The Sunshine Factor

where sunshine is a way of life


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English: A logo for the Quote of the Day on Si...

English: A logo for the Quote of the Day on Simple English Wikiquote (but may be used elsewhere). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Being perfect is only a figment of someone else’s imagination.”

— Debbie Loesel Stanton

 

I wrote this during my anti-perfectionism series in April.  Even more so now, I don’t believe I am or ever can be perfect; that is why me being perfect (or needing to be) is in someone else’s mind.   I love myself, imperfections and all.

How do you feel about this subject?


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Poetry Saturday – The Grumpthings

The cave

The cave (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today’s poem will use neologisms (invented new words).

THE GRUMPTHINGS

The kids discovered a new type of plaything

They were called grumpthings

who lived at the edge of town

in the entrance of a cave

 

The grumpthings were like tall trolls

with piercing and small eyes instead of large

 

The grumpthings were furry

and, when touched, they seethed and spit

Maybe they wouldn’t want to play with the kids after all

and it seemed like they didn’t want to be looked at either

 

The grumpthings eventually indicated to the children

that they wanted to play ooingasasana

Each child snapped their fingers and pointed at a grumpthing,

“their” grumpthing would then go to the top of the child’s head

and rest on it

holding on with his owl-like claws

 

Six children, six grumpthings, and six hours later

the furry creatures grew wings and flew out of the cave

The ooingasasana game

had given the children the ability to grow wings too

The children flew home

before their parents could hear about

the grumpthings, their strange little game

and their strange looks


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Happy Birthday, Mom!

English: Pink roses in the garden

English: Pink roses in the garden (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Unidentified pink hybrid tea roses against lea...

Unidentified pink hybrid tea roses against leaves and sky. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Wildflowers

It’s your birthday again
but you’re not here to celebrate
you live in a perfect place
very far away – and I miss you very much

If you were still here
you wouldn’t believe our weather:
snowstorm in April
Sandra would have seen her birthday
covered in snow!

Pink
you were the original “lady in pink”
I’m sure you’re feeling in the pink now
and loving those heavenly roses

Happy Birthday!
Love,

Debbie

Pictures from Debb

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Debb on left with cousin Mary, shortly after my cancer surgery.  The bulges under my shirt are from the drains that I lived with for 2 weeks...

Debb on left with cousin Mary, shortly after my cancer surgery. The bulges under my shirt are from the drains that I lived with for 2 weeks…

Internet Glorious Sunrise

Internet Glorious Sunrise

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Gumby

Gumby

I love this picture I found on the Internet!

I love this picture I found on the Internet!

When my old computer crashed a little while ago, I lost all my pictures. 😦  Now I was looking through my Facebook pictures and transferred a few to my computer.  The other pictures are from the Internet.   Enjoy…


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Poem: The Writer I Am

Hi folks, my friend Nesher at http://nesherehrman.wordpress.com kindly put this poem in his blog.   I am including it here so that maybe you can get to know me a little better.
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THE WRITER I AM
by Debbie Loesel Stanton
Ever since being a little girl
the one with the Saturday curls
To be a writer, I said, I just might.
I have written on everything in sight.
I wrote words on the inside cover of books;
I didn’t care if I got looks.
It was me the other kids ran to
if they needed to know how to spell something.
Don’t they know, those silly grumpthings?
Later on, with great imagination
it was fun to write stories
even writing about being stuck in rock quarries.
My time spent in writing
dwindled after I wrote the start of a book at age 12.
Reading I loved, so into that I delved.
Then came the time that EVERYONE was saying,
“Journaling is good for a person,” and I was supposed to be obeying.
I have journaled on and off for years
but never made a daily habit of it during the tears.
After that, I went to writing school
where a vivid imagination becomes a great tool.
My professor told me, “You’re a writer
even if you haven’t published anything;
if you’re a writer, your writing will sing.” *
I took his words to heart;
it was hard to keep me and writing apart.
I ate it, breathed it, slept it
and instead of journaling,
my poems and stories became my daily habit.
Today I carry on that same habit
I’m so glad I can do this
I have reached the gold at the end of my rainbow
For even more happiness, to my writing I can always go.
*  This is what I believe; my professor did not tell me this.
___


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Day 2 – Antiprocrastination Series

When dealing with a list of the things you want to change about yourself:

Two at a time is just fine.

— Debbie Loesel Stanton

 

Try to do any more than that (like being Superman who can do everything without growing into a quality),

and you’re likely to give up trying anything, simply because you have stretched yourself too thin ( and remember, you’re not Gumby).

It is not advisable to burn a candle at both ends – take it from me – I’ve tried that many, many times.

There’s just something about taking things nice and slow to stay on course.


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The Myth of Delicate – Part One

English: Surf at Clipperton Island in the Paci...

English: Surf at Clipperton Island in the Pacific Ocean (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She was a lady of the ocean, the girl that the song phrases “Brandy, you’re a fine girl” and “green-eyed lady, ocean lady” were written about.  Yes – she did work as a cocktail waitress at a seaside bar, and she had beautiful green eyes like that of the sea she loved.  Her long hair of copper hue made her look like a princess.

This girl was named Delicate at birth, and indeed she lived up to her name.  Her limbs were long, and she had a charming delicacy about her.   She loved the ocean and birds and animals, often wishing she had a horse that she could ride up and down the coast.   Delicate rented a room above her grandmother’s duplex, so her waitress salary was adequate.  She spent her spare time at the ocean’s edge, frolicking in the surf or painting an oil picture of her favorite subject.

Delicate had many friends and was loved by all, young and old and anywhere in between.  This is why a well-known fact was a mystery.

Delicate had only two great loves in her whole life.

Her first love was actually just a school-girl crush, and he wasn’t actually hers.  She was a pretty although timid girl, so did not make moves on anyone.

Her second and last love was what all love stories are written about.   They had the love of the century, and of course Delicate thought it would last forever, till the day he came to her and announced to her his intention of leaving.

He, the seaman, who had treated her so well and gave her a silver locket bearing his name, had resolved that he was ultimately more in love with the sea than with her.

Delicate understood this because she loved the ocean with the same passion and fervor too.   But she didn’t understand why he couldn’t love both of them.  How could the ocean, this fluid, wonderful friend of theirs, be her enemy and competitor?

Delicate was in an awful state of mind.   She stopped eating and sleeping, lost her dreams and her passion of music and artwork.  To be sure, she stopped swimming in the surf.  She even said goodbye to her dolphin friends and to her grandmother.

Delicate unceremoniously quit her job at the bar and ran away to the forest, to where the sunlight only partially came beaming down on her.  This was a pretty dark place, matching her mood exactly.  She lived there for days with the beasts and birds of the forest and ate berries for sustenance.

Weaker and weaker this girl got, and she yearned for the ocean.  The sound and sight of it had always calmed her down before…but this time, when in the forest she could hardly hear the ocean anymore, it provided no help.

Delicate decided that even though she was mad at the ocean for taking her love away, she needed to go to it.  To lay at surfside and let the water wash over her and tickle her feet.  To splash its water and maybe even frolic in it once again.

By this time, Delicate was fading fast.  She was so weak, it took her a week to crawl back to the water.  When the ocean saw her, it rejoiced.  It celebrated with exploding waves that imparted happiness to Delicate.  She got in the water, and then something incredible happened.

See you on Saturday with the conclusion of this tale


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Debbie’s Experiment!

With time to rest now during this “sick time”, I’ve had more time to think…to reminisce…and to create.  🙂  First of all, I was thinking about the seven-at-one-time pen pals I had as a girl, and how much fun that was for me.  With one pen pal (and mind you, this was in the day before Internet) in particular, the day I got a letter from her, I’d write right back and mail it the very next morning.  Then, I would every time accurately predict when her next letter would arrive for me.  Sure enough, as expected because she loved this as much as I did, there would be a letter on my desk from her when I got home from school.  We even had a section of our letters called “exclusively ours” where we would ask and answer questions from each other.   Can you guess who instigated that?  Yes – it was yours truly.

Then I thought back to all the Christmas newsletters my family and then now, me, received stating all the news from one family in one giant letter.  Even for people like me who love to read, sometimes these letters get overwhelming.  When I heard about a family separated by distance writing a paragraph, mailing it off to the next relative, on and on until the originator gets to read all the news – this intrigued me.   This way they can hear from others during the year and not have to rush to write one big newsletter at the end of the year.   If they wanted to, they could start the cycle over again, and they could consider themselves “caught up with the news” periodically.

What’s to say we can’t do that here on WordPress? Members and our friends with email could embark on a totally cool adventure.  If you have time to go to Facebook every day, then you can spare about 5 minutes a day and be included in “Debbie’s Experiment”.  The basic tenet would be I would start off by writing one or two sentences, the next person could add to it, pass it on, etc.  A little story would emerge, and it would be exciting to see it grow!  Right?  🙂

Just think – this can be as exciting as the NaNoWriMo every November, and it would take infinitely much less time on your part.   Those wanting to participate could together come up with the rules and where we will publish this project – on Sunshine Factor on its own page, or maybe a separate WordPress blog, just for this purpose, or something else you come up with.

Please humor me and take a couple minutes to click on the poll link below to answer the one question – you will be allowed to expand upon it if you wish.   Even if you answer is “no”, I would still like to know.  In fact, please consider reposting this so that those you know who might be interested can join in on the fun too.   In fact, dear reader, if you have stumbled across this post by mistake,  we are glad you are here and would love to have your participation, too.

  <<————please vote!

With love and great hope,

Debb


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Poetry Saturday – “Faith, Hope and Love”

Today’s poem uses the “negative description” style – example:  “love does not live under stones.”

FAITH, HOPE AND LOVE

Faith does not hide in the gutter

and it usually doesn’t disappear in the hard times.

Rather, it burns brightly in the heart

and gives the soul something to hang onto.

 

Hope does not drown in the ocean

since it does not disappear somewhere in the tide.

Hope springs up like a tiny tulip

in the last of the winter’s snow.

 

Love does not discriminate

and it is not just for a certain age group.

The demographics of love

are rooted in the universal language.

 

Faith, hope and love exist today

like the Good Book says,

But these three entities are not equal.

The greatest of these is Love.

__


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Debbie Goes to Court

The Moot Court room.

The Moot Court room. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Debbie Goes to Court”
~ a story ~

This court case was unusual. A judge was present, but no attorney or jury. Who was being tried was not a person or corporation, but rather a belief and value of some. This enemy was called Perfectionism.

Debbie brought Perfectionism to trial since her belief in it, and what was taught about it by her parents, had ruined her life. Far from the blissful existence it tried to portray, perfectionism was sickness, sorrow, and a sad form of insanity.

In this case, the judge heard Debbie’s opening arguments. She spoke them to the judge and audience, some of whom were victims of Perfectionism as well.

Debbie began:
“Perfectionism has made me hate myself when I couldn’t be perfect. I spent all my life, time and emotions trying for an impossible goal. This wore me out and robbed me of my life. I didn’t really live during this time, I barely existed, because Perfectionism made me feel I didn’t deserve to live.

Furthermore, Perfectionism has killed ballerinas and models and others who have to be thin for their professions. Movie stars and others have had their bodies cut and manipulated to look like someone else. Writers and artists throw out their pet projects if they think they can’t “get it right.” They sell their souls just for the state of perfectionism, which does not actually exist. And I can’t stand it anymore!” Debbie concluded.

A loud cheer arose from the audience. Anorexics and bulimics and militant dieters echoed Debbie’s sentiments and heard the words of freedom for perhaps the first time. Other guests listening to the court case agreed as this reflected how they, too, had been affected.

The judge pounded his gavel and asked for silence. He then praised Debbie for uncovering the truth.

“So how then should we live?” he asked.

“With patience and love for ourselves,” was the answer. “We need to remind ourselves that no one is perfect, nor do we have to be. If there is perfectionism at all, it should be the perfect letting go of unreal ideals that make us hurt ourselves or others.”

“Amen!” shouted the judge jubilantly. “Court stenographer, make sure you get this dowm: I grant peace and freedom to all those who have ruined or wasted their lives for Perfectionism’s sake. I’m announcing that Heaven is the only place that perfectionism exists.”

“And Debbie, since this is not a typical courtroom, I will now allow you to say or do anything you’d like in response to this.”

Debbie laughed with glee. From her purse she took two lipsticks and one small jar of paint. To the audience she waltzed up and stood in front of the Hollywood director. Quick as a flash, she drew designs all over his face with the lipsticks and poured the orange paint into his hair.

“Good luck, then,” the judge called to her retreating figure going out the courtroom door.

“Thank you, sir,” she called back. “I’m in a hurry to live my real life now!”

FINIS


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Where Does She Get Her Ideas?

Have You Any Ideas^^^ - NARA - 534177

Have You Any Ideas^^^ – NARA – 534177 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I wrote a post last fall, when Sunshine Factor was pretty young, about going for a walk and getting a lot of good writing ideas.

Today I found out that I can get a lot during my meditation time.

And yesterday as I was on my blog I got the words “wax bikini”.   Weird, huh?  But I decided to go with it.  The result was the limerick I put on my other blog for today’s post, http://poetryweekly.wordpress.com.   I figure, I get these thoughts for a reason.  🙂

Inspiration hits me through many venues, so I go about my life aware of the possibilities.

Audience participation segment:

How do you get your inspiration for what to write?  Or, if you are not a blogger but get ideas for other things, i.e. hobbies, how do the ideas make themselves known?  It would be fun to find out.


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Cherish

There were songs with this title, sung by Kool and the Gang and The Association.  Much as I love their versions, I am not talking about music here.

I’m talking about the privilege to cherish people, love, freedom, and our dreams.

Cherishing someone or something adds a wonderful quality to our life.  It fills in the bare spaces and somehow makes the unknown less scary.  It adds value to our days and peace to our nights.

What and who are

Publicity photo of the music group The Associa...

Publicity photo of the music group The Association. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

you cherishing today?


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Daily Prompt: Quote Me

Do you have a favorite quote that you return to again and again? What is it, and why does it move you?

My favorite quote is something I came up with just today as I came out of having a massage at the spa.   I felt so good and relaxed and happy, that all the way to the grocery store and then back home, I kept running it over and over in my mind.

The phrases that linked themselves together made these sentences:

You can’t improve yourself unless you’re good to yourself.  And you can’t be good to yourself unless you love yourself.

Most of my readers know that I like to redo or rework the negatives…I framed my phrases in a positive way, and here is the quote I came up with:

“When you love yourself, you end up doing things that are good for yourself.  When you are good to yourself, it’s easy to improve yourself.”

This quote moves me because I have finally figured out what would help me with my quest to improve myself.   Loving myself the last couple of years makes it possible to improve myself without going all militant and perfectionistic.

seagull.jpg

 


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How to take full advantage of Sunshine Factor

Whoah, now that’s different! Encouraging someone to take advantage of another? Well, in this case, it’s about using this blog to your best advantage.

Those of you who read Sunshine Factor in Reader on WordPress, or read me on your email notifications, don’t get to see that there are several tabs for this blog.

I have recently added a new page (tab) to Sunshine that you can click on to read about to follow my recovery walk (recovery as in recovering from (getting over) unhealthy lifestyle habits or old tapes that play in my head, and also recovery from cancer and leading a healthier life).

Poetry Castle Gift Shop is a place where you can order a story or poem to be written for a special person or occasion in your life, the author being myself.

All of the tabs are for different purposes, and when you feel like reading something specific, or follow what I am doing in my recovery, they’re there at your disposal.

How to see all the tabs?

Sunshine Factor’s web address is https://sunshinefactor.wordpress.com.  Put Sunshine Factor on your desktop as a shortcut, that way you can just click on that and there I am.  (On a PC, once you’re on the site, right click and create shortcut.  Are there any Mac users that could tell us how to put a shortcut on your desktop?)

From reading Sunshine Factor, you might have guessed that I like to use metaphors – words that say something is like something else – so here’s another way I can describe my blog:  Sunshine Factor is like a home in a neighborhood, and in this home I talk (post) every day about something of interest.   The other tabs on Sunshine are like my favorite neighbors in the neighborhood that I like to visit and chat with.

When I post something in one of the tabs, I will not notify you.    I will continue to post on the home page daily, and the tabs are for you to open at will.

Please help me get the word out about the improved Sunshine Factor – and if you’re another blogger, could you be so kind as to reblog this and tell your friends who might benefit from this site?  Thanks ever so much!cropped-795040-r1-026-11a_011.jpg


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What’s In a Name?

Argentinian nativity scene

Argentinian nativity scene (Photo credit: Eduardo Deboni)

December 25th is the day that Christians celebrate Jesus Christ’s birth. I researched lately and found that the name Jesus means “Savior”.  Another name for him is Immanuel/Emmanuel – “God with us.”  These definitions are right on.

What about other names?  Do they appropriately describe the people they are connected to?   In my husband’s and my case, for example, I think they do.  Debra/Deborah means “seeking one” (yup!  I’m always looking for answers, always asking questions) and “the bee”.  Another truism, as bees are always seeking out flowers.  David means “friend of God”.   This describes my David quite well, as he has always loved God from a very young age.

Time to comment:  I’m curious if your name matches you, whether its meaning is one you live up to, or if it doesn’t describe you at all.  It’s so fascinating to use your favorite search engine to type “meaning of —-” and it comes up with the meaning.

Let me hear from you, and meanwhile – please enjoy a blessed Christmas!

Debb

Debb and Dave’s Wedding Pics

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Okay, folks, ideally I wanted to present the pictures in an organized fashion so their progression would tell a story. But…the pictures are out of order, and sometimes the caption belongs to the picture above, and there are some duplicates but either way – this isn’t too bad of a job, since it’s the first time that I’ve put pictures on my blog. Right? 🙂 I figured you would like to see them sooner than later, yes?  I reserve to show you more pictures if I can find the good close up ones we have!  I guess this is me not trying to be perfect.  🙂

look at those beautiful curls!

look at those beautiful curls!

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the veil gets adjusted

the veil gets adjusted

"Princess Bride"

“Princess Bride”

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going to meet her groom

going to meet her groom

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bride and groom listening to the readings

bride and groom listening to the readings

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Debb with her "dad friend", Ort (Patti's husband)

Debb with her “dad friend”, Ort (Patti’s husband)

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Vows

Vows

Debb receives her wedding band

Debb receives her wedding band

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Mr. and Mrs. David Stanton 12/12/12

Mr. and Mrs. David Stanton 12/12/12

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Dave and Debb leaving for reception

Dave and Debb leaving for reception

Mrs. and Mrs. David Stanton 12/12/12

Mrs. and Mrs. David Stanton 12/12/12


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Poetry Castle Gift Shop Now Open

castle-by-lake_w725_h544

Hello,

I’ve added a gift shop to this blog – please check out the Poetry Castle Gift Shop page.   Thanks!

 


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My Christmas Wish List

English: Christmas tree

English: Christmas tree (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

free_126364

As a person who likes to cross my T’s and dot my I’s,

I’ll write this list in two parts.

The first part will be what I NEED.

The second part will be what I WANT.

I NEED:

  • for wars to stop.
  • for peace to come to all peoples.
  • for homeless people to find food and shelter.
  • for all children to be able to have breakfast each day.
  • for all starving to end.
  • for love to prevail and judgments to cease.
  • for psychological help to be sought after by the criminals who kill others without caring.
  • for safety in our schools and workplaces – safety from evil killers.
  • for other things I’m sure I can add to this list later.

I WANT:

  •  a decent camera – the disposable ones we bought for the wedding just did not work well.   Plus, I was always told in writing school that each writer should have a good camera available at all times – like my friend Mary Louise Eklund.  Her stories are highlighted by the fantastic pictures she shares with us.
  •   I’ve debated about whether I want a laptop or not.  If I had a laptop, then I probably would be writing all the time – and I still need to live my life.  🙂  So cancel the laptop…
  • Time and funds to start self-publishing in the new year (yay!) and balance in my life.
  • My head not to grow too big.  I want to remember that it’s not all about me.


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The Tribal Dance [or:]/Let’s Stop the Hate!

English: This shows the population concentrati...

English: This shows the population concentration of Native Americans and Alaskan Natives in the United States during 2008, by state. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I don’t know if Hollywood is accurate

in portraying Native Americans,

their tribes and ways and dances;

If these portrayals are accurate,

then I think the Native American culture

is one I respect and admire.

Their movements are so fluid,

their fellowship thick and a shelter,

and their sense of community shines through.

 

Each dance of a tribe signifies something specific,

each telling a story.

A dance could be a request for rain

or one of sorrow

or even war.

 

Many of my good dreams come true,

so I am dreaming, especially lately,

of a tribal dance that we of many

tribes and colors and languages

can all share in.

Instead of many tribes dancing in many circles across the land,

we would form one gigantic loop across this country,

arms intertwined and hearts in agreement.

 

First we would dance the dance of anger and injustice

against people who would kill others for no good reason.

Then we would express our wish for peace

with our bodies and united souls.

With this powerful force we can stop the hate.

We can and will conquer this land as a harbor of peace,

where children and adults are safe in their schools and places of business.

Where we can all grow to fulfillment and realize our dreams –

if we can just put down the hate.

 

Lastly, we would join with others and make come true

the wishes of the Great Spirit,

where peace would reign, love would inspire and heal,

and hate would disappear as does the smoke around a campfire.

 

Amen – Lord, may it be so.

 


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Story: The Wedding Crasher

Today’s story is ghost written by a wedding crasher of mine – uh….use your imagination.   🙂

THE WEDDING CRASHER

— by B. E. Bugg

Last week it suddenly got cold in the Twin Cities, and we had almost a foot of snow.  I had taken refuge in a local church.

I had been taking a very nice nap in front of a sunny side window, when all of a sudden I heard a “click” and saw a bright light.  Ah yes, I’ve seen those human types before.  The ones who want to take pictures of everything.  Well, at least I was in the spotlight for a few minutes, my moment of fame.

Now there’s something you should know about box elder bugs.  Our hearing is very superb.   I heard this man’s conversation when he told an angel (I guess they would call her a bride) on the other side of the church that he managed to see me and so he snapped my picture.

What?  She was delighted?  Ahh, my red and black wings parted when I felt as proud as a peacock.  It turns out, the angel had petted one of my own a long time ago when she was four years old.  She had felt sorry for it because her mother hated us box elder bugs.  AND, the angel’s frother Jim had mentioned that as a child, he even thought we are fascinating bugs.

So here was a lady that didn’t step on my people and exterminate us.  This fact made me so glad, I decided to watch the procedure they call a wedding.

Yes, us box elder bugs do fly a little bit.  I had decided to fly over to one of the guests and sit on his suit coat so I could watch the wedding from right next to the aisle.

My excellent goodness, I had another bright light experience.  Only this time, it was coming from the person walking up the aisle.  This angel, the bride, dazzled me with her smile.  It was so full of joy and not faked.   She looks to be a big person, but her smile was so warm and happy.  Her eyes sparkled, thus making my world all the more bright.  I could’ve used some tiny sunglasses in the sanctuary!

I say the bride was an angel because she looked like one of those things they call a cherub – round but pretty face with rosy skin and whitish-colored curls framing her face, with a pearl tiarra holding a beautiful embroidered veil in place.

Now my life is complete.  If only those big people monsters could be as nice as the bride and not step on us.   If only I could keep on writing like I wrote this story.

Dear Mrs. Bride,  I thank you for allowing me to tell you my story.  I knew that you wouldn’t hurt me, so I got brave and took a flight of faith.  You are welcome to post this story on your blog, so that my story can live on.

Thank you for being so kind-hearted.  But please make sure your ginger tuxedo tabby cat doesn’t eat my relatives when he finds them.

And by the way, sorry I crashed your wedding, but I couldn’t resist.

Best wishes and Love always,

B. E. Bugg477640,1284652459,1


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My Wedding Prayer Poem

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This was the poem I wrote for my wedding – it started out to be a poem but then became a very long prayer.

THE LONG ROAD

Words and feelings of David A. Stanton and Debb Stanton

Composed by Debbie Loesel Stanton

 

It took us a long time to arrive at today.

Seventeen years of joy, heartache and remorse.

Nine years of continued friendship but separation, realizing what we had lost.

We thank God for cancer and unemployment, since those were the vehicles that brought us back together again.

 

Thank You, Lord, for never giving up on us

and for your grace that saves and frees us.

You give us free will

but you always remembered the covenant we first made together.

As it says in Romans 8:28 (with our loose paraphrase),

All things work together for those who love God and are called according to His purpose.

 

We believe it is your purpose for us

to walk this road together as one

to love and be with one another eternally.

The road we are on now is just the beginning, as Heaven is our true home and we

will be together there as well.

 

Jeremiah 29:11 states that you have given us a future and a hope, that you desire

good for us and not evil.

How well we can attest to that in our lives!

Debb has always called You “The God of the Second Chance” – because You let us learn through choices and just living in general, and You never turn Your back on us,

but let us try things again.

 

Dear Lord,

We would like the love you have given us for each other to be examples of how You

love your bride, the Church.

We are eternally grateful to you

and so desire to bring glory to Your name.

 

Thank You for this marriage,

and may we always live this life to honor You.

We love You now and forever

and are thankful the road is long

because it starts here and goes into eternity.

 

Amen.


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Word Study: words beginning with p-a-n

Close up of a cute baby 7-month old panda cub ...

Close up of a cute baby 7-month old panda cub in the Wolong Nature Reserve in Sichuan, China. Photo by Sheila Lau. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today I am posting all the words I can think of starting with “pan”, without looking in the dictionary.

pan

pant

panting

panted

pandemonium

pancreas

pandering

Pandora

pants

pandemic

pantaloons

pantomime

pantry

panhandle

panorama

panaramic

Can you add to this list?


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A Poetic Ballad

THE SEASON OF RACC’S DISCONTENT

Racc was a raccoon who lived in the woods with his family.

He got tired of the life he was living and thought he could and should do better.

So he set off one night without saying goodbye to his family.

 

“Why content can you not be?” a Voice said.

Does not the Creator know how to create?

All of nature, hear My Voice.”

 

Racc traveled many days and could not find one single body of water, and he was getting tired of berries and earthworms.

Finally he happened upon a farm with chickens, cows and goats, and he knew he would find eggs there.

He slept during the day in the hay mow.

 

One afternoon he woke to find two cats staring at him, and they meowed.

Tab, the orange tabby and Fussy, the calico were sure beautiful.

Why can’t I have nice stripes on my tail and front legs like Tab, he wondered.

 

“Why content can you not be?

Does not the Creator know how to create?

All of nature, hear My Voice.”

 

One night in the moonlight, Racc followed the cats to the chicken coop.

The cats gracefully lept to the top of the fence and gently dropped down to the ground near the coop.

Racc began to follow their lead…

 

Once on top of the fence, Racc fell face-down in the mud.

Embarrassed, he left the farm immediately.

He traveled another several days until he saw a clear, sparkling river.

 

Racc thought he had washed the dried mud off his face, but alas, his reflection showed otherwise.

The mask covering his eyes was not mud, but brownish-black hair.

When he took a bath in the river later, he even discovered that now his tail had stripes like Tab’s!

 

“Why content can you not be?

Does not the Creator know how to create?

All of nature, hear My Voice.”

 

“But Voice,” Racc questioned.

How come I have a mask and stripes on my tail now?

My tail is wonderful, but I don’t deserve to wear a mask on my face.”

 

“Why content can you not be?

Does not the Creator know how to create?

All of nature, hear My Voice.”

Voice went on, “You’ve not been happy with anything lately.

I decided to grace you with rings on your tail since you admired Tab’s.

But the mask – – that, I’m afraid, is proof that you had a season of discontent.

From now on, other animals and people will see you and know what you did.

You didn’t appreciate your life and what you were given, so you ran away.

You stole food from the chickens and did not lead an honest life.

The mask will let people know they shouldn’t trust you.

 

Racc lived out the rest of his days constantly on the move.

He was not trusted, so he didn’t trust anyone either.

He even began to show up in cities where he could knock over garbage cans.

 

“Why content can you not be?

Does not the Creator know how to create?

All of nature, hear his Voice,” Racc tries to warn others.

 

–Debbie Loesel Stanton


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Another Pink Ribbon Day

English: pink ribbon

English: pink ribbon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

published on debbieloeselstanton blog on 11/3/12.

“Another Pink Ribbon Day”

Now that October has come and gone,

The Pink Ribbon still has an important mission.

There are still breast cancer survivors

fighting for their lives

and other breast cancer survivors past the hurdle

doing all they can

to raise money for research, education

and patient care.

We wear pink ribbon clothes

and use pink ribbon goods

because we have formed an alliance

to let cancer know that we will defeat it.

We know not when, but

it will be done.

All the other colored ribbons

representing other cancers

need our support too.

We need to help others

so that they can afford medical care

for their treatment,

so parents don’t have to choose

between feeding their kids and getting treatment.

I thank all the corporations for funding research for us

and helping to raise awareness.

Dear Lord,

I pray for those who are dying from cancer,

that they receive hope and life on earth,

or with an ultimate healing in heaven.

Grant them strength and peace

and the same for their families and friends.

We know you’re not forgetting us Lord,

but it’s hard to believe sometimes

when things look grim.

We place ourselves in your capable hands

and even if we don’t know the outcome,

you do, and you will help us through.

Grant us to have one more pink ribbon day

and the promise for a better tomorrow.

Amen.


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Story: My Coronation Day

Ocean's Melody

Ocean’s Melody (Photo credit: QY qinn): not quite the opal and ruby and aquamarine crown this story talks about ~

Debbie was all excited because someone had sent her the first telegram of her life.

A company in England was going to pay her expenses to visit their country.

Is this a joke? she wondered.

Even though gullible, and knowing she was gullible, Debbie did fly to England.  There really was a plane ticket and then a taxi cab waiting to take her to a beautiful garden, of which there are many in England.

It was such a beautiful, sunny day.  For what more could she ask?

It turns out there was a whole crowd waiting for her, waving and smiling and calling out to her.

Oh no, she gasped inwardly.  How is this going to turn out?  I’m all for adventure – but a crowd gathering for me?

Soon a dignitary approached her.  He held out a red velvet cloak, and she obligingly put it on.

“My dear woman,” began the man.  “We have brought you here to crown you for your efforts.”

“What efforts?” she asked.

“The efforts to be content in your life and deciding that you were glad to be who you are,” the man, Sir Tuttle, explained.  “Most of us are still searching, trying to be someone else or being frustrated that they aren’t happy.  You, most gracious woman, have arrived at contentedness and acceptance.  For this achievement, you must be crowned.”

“Well, okay then, sir,” Debbie answered, fighting an overwhelming desire to faint.

An army of giant nutcrackers arrived when the trumpets began to play.  They were in exact formation as they came to her and saluted.

“Debbie Loesel Stanton, I hereby crown you Queen of SSS,” Sir Tuttle announced.  He put upon her head a crown covered with irridescent opals, rubies and aquamarine.  She nearly fell down with the weight of the crown!

“What is SSS?”  The Queen of SSS asked.

“Ahem, I suppose you must know.  SSS stands for sensitivity, silliness and searching,”

Sir Tuttle explained.

“Uh, because…?” Debbie ventured forth.

“Tsk, tsk, always asking questions, aren’t you?”  Sir Tuttle mildly scolded.  Well, I guess that fits you.  You are forever researching things and asking questions.  Oh, and your friends nominated you for silliness.  They think it’s great you found your voice (and also your literal voice after it got affected negatively from chemotherapy) and that you’re not afraid to let loose.  You love to have fun, but it is only at your expense, never others.”

“Thank you, I think,” Debbie said.  “What about the sensitivity part?”

“Well, didn’t people used to tell you you’re too sensitive?”

“Yes, but I’ve decided that it’s okay to be sensitive and being that way is an asset sometimes,” Debbie explained.

Sir Tuttle went on, “Good, but I just want you to know how you’re sensitive.”

Great, Debbie thought.  Let’s hear the list of how I’m super-sensitive, like I didn’t know!

“Debbie, your skin and stomach are sensitive.  You are allergic to so many medications.  Your feelings get bruised easily (but less so now that you’re older), and you have a heart of gold.  You can feel others’ pain almost more than they can.  You never want to hurt others, and from the time you were a child, you have felt sorry for inanimate objects.  Everyone and everything!”

“Oh,” Debbie recalled, “like when I felt sorry for the box elder bugs that got into the house, because my mom hated them?  Or the dolls with the chopped off hair that the other girls didn’t want?”

“Precisely,” Sir Tuttle confirmed.

Debbie, Sir Tuttle, and the whole crowd took one collective deep breath.

Then the string quartet began to play, little children grabbed hands and danced in circles together, and the light in Debbie’s eyes started to blind Sir Tuttle until he looked away.

Oh, what a day!, thought Debbie.  Now I really can be glad that I ask a lot of questions and hurt for other people and make people laugh.  It’s good to be the queen of something!

~THE END~


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About Me and My Blog

Hi, I’m Debbie Loesel Stanton.   My friends call me Debb…

I am a:  writer, small-time philosopher, small-time get out of debt and  stay that way advisor, big-time lover of  people/animals/nature/beautiful writing/beautiful poetry/beauty-period/peace/photography; a reader, cancer survivor, comforting and encouraging friend, bringer of sunshine to the soul and spirit, and appreciator of life.

I am for:  peace, love, joy, and other such blessings; fairness, equality, and respect.

I am against:  hatred, violence, abortion, abuse of people and animals, wasting the earth’s natural resources, and judging one another.

My political stance:   I believe we each need to study the arguments and vote according to what our conscience states, and not what side we think we are supposed to be on.  Suffice it to say, just make sure you get out and vote.

What my blog is for and about:  a smile for your day, loving thoughts and encouragement, sometimes whimsy,  sometimes a recipe or two, a movie review here and there, and always a love of life that I hope to pass on to others.  I’ve been writing a lot of poems since being on this blog but I also write in other forms.   I post daily because there is so much we can talk about. . . I welcome your comments.

Thank you for joining me on this adventure we call life.