To The Apples Of My Eye:
My dearest faithful followers,
I am here today groveling before you, begging for your forgiveness. I must offer my sincere apologies and show my deepest remorse for my misdeeds and any mistreatment. I don’t own you, and I never have. You are individuals and you are my companions, not my slaves.
Sometimes I forget that this is a family, not a tyranny. I did not gain this power through great deeds or victories, I don’t even deserve it. I have no right to oppress you and ignore each of your individual interests. I don’t have the liberty to inflict pain in any form. I asked for you. You are my gifts, not my soldiers. You aren’t obligated to heed to my every command or execute my every decree.
I am not authorized to punish you with painful scoldings or harsh criticism. I must use words to express my wishes, and I must always remember that requests can only be asked, not commanded. I can’t enforce on you senseless demands, and I can’t penalize you for when you don’t please me. You can’t suffer because of who you are. Read the rest of this entry
I have delivered three babies but somehow that doesn’t even come close to battling a canker sore. For that you need a Hulk-type of stamina. These ulcers are claimed to be only shallow sores, but this time I can assure you it is no such thing. Under a microscopic lens you would see that the gaping hole on my lower lip has the depths of the Grand Canyon. I am pretty sure there are even little tiny miners piercing through the raw flesh with minuscule Cold Steel shovels.
It is known that they hurt more when they are agitated, but I can promise you that mine has a life of its own. I don’t even have to think or bother the lesion, it just burns like a lit firecracker at all times. The white circle of fire surrounded by the inflamed red halo has parked itself on my lip and refuses to leave. Read the rest of this entry
I spent the last weekend with my family in Itamar, a settlement in the West Bank of Israel. I went with a group of people to support the community in their mourning for the slaughtered Fogel family. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what good I could do over there with three little kids, but it was worth a shot.
I had a truly amazing time, to say the least, and that says a lot for me. For starters, I had abandoned my comfort zone and stepped into the vast, scary world. Next, I left what I consider normalcy and joined a somewhat camper/wilderness gang far below my living standards. I had gone from civilian to girl scout in a matter of minutes upon exiting the car.
We stayed in a little caravan set out on a cleared mountain top. At one point, it was so windy, the little camper almost took off. There were no screens and four little cots. I am not sure I can call them cots. They were thin paper-like mattresses on a metal frame. The linen was washed and smelled clean. There was a fleece kind of blanket which I refrained from sniffing because even in 5 star hotels, I know they don’t wash those. I just threw those aside and paid dearly for it as I shivered through the night. Read the rest of this entry