Tuesday, September 14, 2010

A Reunion of Sadness

Funerals bring people together like a warm bonfire on a cold winter's day. Black-clad people from all walks of all life join together to tell stories, shake hands, share laughter and tears. People who know each other only by name cry and hug each other in a slow, sincere, sorrowful way. Hidden smiles are released as well as hidden tears. It is a reunion of sadness.
It's sad when relatives and old friends have to gather together on such an occasion as death. My Uncle Nathan died about a week ago and I attended his view the other night. It was hard, seeing my family cry like that. It's the type of tears that come straight from your heart, sobs that never end, empty stares. I don't really feel sad for his death since I hardly knew him. He lived in Colorado for the past few years. I do feel sad for all those who are hurting because he left.
I've experienced that sadness leaves when we're around others, especially those who love and care for us. All those people in the room of the viewing shared in one universal unspoken language of sorrow. They all felt that sad emptiness that comes with death and because of those feelings they shared, they were able to connect. People who hadn't seen each other for years would embrace as if they were the best of friends. It was amazing how as soon as the people filled the room, comfort and happiness entered too.
I was thinking about this years reflections theme, 'Together we can...' I know that a lot of people may take this to mean together we can do anything or together we can make a difference. I've been thinking of it in a more solemn, every day sort of way. Together we can make it through this. Together we can heal.
9/11 was this past weekend, and we watched a few hear-wrenching videos with footage of the tragedy. That was a hard thing for America, and when that occurred everyone across the U.S. shared in that unspoken language of sorrow. I believe that we have never been more united as a people than we were at the time of that awful tragedy. People came together because that sadness and fear was too great to bear alone. Together America is still healing.
We have families, we have friends, we have people because we, as humans, need company but we also need comforters, people who share our hardest feelings. We need people to listen to us, to hold us, to lift us up. We, as humans, cannot stand to live alone. I don't know how the hermits do it. Only together are we strong enough to face the tragedies and awful events that shape us as a Nation and as individuals. Together we can...

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Ironic: opposite of what is expected

I think I'm going to talk about irony. You see I had to make a poster on the vocab word, 'ironic' for English. The picture I drew depicted a more coincidental situation than an ironic one and I got docked points. It seems ever since then the world has been try to show me what ironic truly means. Lately I've been trying to go to bed earlier so that I can get up earlier therefore giving me time to work on my online class. Well, every night ended up the same and I stayed up a lot later than I wanted and never did get up earlier. Last night, though, I finally went to bed at nine o'clock and had set my alarm for six in the morning. I was just falling asleep by nine twenty when my step dad came in, turned on my light and told me to get up I'm leaving with my mom.
It's ironic that the first night I actually go to bed early I end up staying up till midnight. To make a long story short, my mom and step dad were having some problems and she called the police. I always wanted something different to happen in my life to sort of mix up the ordinary routine, but having three men in uniforms in your house isn't always so fun. At least my mom let me skip school today to catch up on my homework and sleep.
Another ironic thing. Today would probably have been the only day in a while I would get either time to myself or, if my mom stayed home, at least alone time with her. Having seven younger siblings can be fun when playing games, but having seven younger siblings also means that there's seven other kids competing for two parents' attention. I was hoping that, when I found out my mom had stayed home, we would have some time together, but then I saw my step dad. Well, that's how it goes right? Thank you world I think I understand what ironic means now! I can say one thing, I will never again misinterpret a vocabulary word, I mean what if next time I get 'chaos' or even worse, 'annihilation?' I think I'll keep my dictionary close by.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Caught up in the Tornado

It seems I was sitting there enjoying my summer vacation, then school starts and its not too bad, then I hear this rumble and it's getting closer, and closer and then what hits? Life. I have something planned every day of the week. Even now I am not supposed to be typing this blog, but I feel like I need to get one post in here since I haven't written for so long.
When your little your birthday is a big occasion but as you grow older you realize that life goes on. The end of the term is coming up and I have three big tests this week, on my birthday, it's just the way it works. Adults are always telling you to grow up, and in the end you don't really have a choice. You get caught up in the crowd pulling you along through life and your sort of forced to forget how it felt to be carefree. During the teen years you seem to be in between adulthood and childhood. I'm transitioning from having nothing to do but watch T.V. to having too much on my plate that I can't eat it all.
I have compared life to an airport. How much it can be like one! It is an organized chaos of people all pushing and bustling around to get somewhere. It's hardest when your one of the people without a real purpose yet, when your still trying to figure out where your headed. My best friend is moving an hour away. It doesn't seem too far but it is still really hard. Right now I feel like I'm caught in a never ending tornado that just keeps picking up more problems as it goes along. I feel like if it could just stop, for one day, I could get things in order. I wish life could just halt for a few hours so I could learn what it's like to do nothing again.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Blue Eyes

A few weeks ago my great-grandma on my step dad's side died. I only knew her for a year and loved her dearly, still though I did not feel sad when they told me she died, I knew she was old and lived a good life. My grandpa said he could hear her talking to her husband, he said that her husband came to get her and she went with him. It's funny but the days before she died I cried when no one else did, when my step dad told my family that she was gone it seemed I was the only one who didn't feel sad.
The reason I bring this up is because I wrote my great-grandma a poem I never got to give to her. I wonder if she can read it from heaven, if she can know that I wrote this for her. The poem may not be that great, I wrote it on a whim one night when I couldn't sleep. Anyway here it is.

Blue eyes

By: Elizabeth Leatham

Dedicated to my great-grandmother Pala who

I was lucky enough to have as a part of my life.

What secrets do those blue eyes hide?

Tales of heartache, pain, and sacrifice.

A person hurting deep inside.

What secrets do those blue eyes hide?

What heart is that that feels for me?

A heart so true, of noble breed.

Loving, deep understanding.

What heart is that that feels for me?

What lips are those that call my name?

What secret prayers,

Said with no shame.

What lips are those that call my name?

What person is that who loves and longs?

Wisdom of years,

And courage so strong.

What person is that who loves and longs?

Why who can hold secrets behind such eyes?

She who will reveal the story’s behind.

What heart can love with such freedom?

The same who now dwells in God’s kingdom.

What lips can call so many names?

She who loves them all just the same.

Why what a person can love and long,

Is she who has an Angel’s song.

Come tales of heartache, pain, and sacrifice.

What secrets do those blue eyes hide?

Monday, July 27, 2009


Imagine being up in the mountains. There's the wind in your hair, the smell of smoke on your clothes, a fishing pole next to your cheap folding chair, and the sound of eighteen kids screaming and running in the background. For the majority of our week long camping trip we had only eleven kids, but for one night we made it all the way up to eighteen. I'm starting to get used to my big family, in fact I even could say at times that I enjoy it. There's always actors for a movie, or inspired characters for a book. You can always find someone to read your school essay or to tell you how you look.
Sometimes, though, when your trying to get to sleep in a thin sleeping bag on top of four rocks in a thin tent and the sound of the crickets is drowned out by six boys voices carried over from the other tent, yes at those times I wish I was an only child. Really the camping trip was quite enjoyable, but the ratio of eighteen kids to seven adults wasn't very good odds. Once I learned the art of hiding and reading the trip was more fun I could say.
I had another experience this camping trip. I've been called many names before. People have called me pretty, cute, weird, strange, and random people have often times come up to me and called me beautiful. It's sort of a strange experience but I suppose it's always flattering. This trip however I had the chance to overhear a couple of boys calling me hot. Well now I figure I've been called practically every name to simply describe a person. Something my dad always taught me, though, was that you can never get caught up in names. Every girl should always believe she is beautiful but the moment that a person starts becoming vain and thinking that they can get anything with their looks is the moment they fail on a very important test. The test of the heart. It's our spirits that really matter, our bodies only last for this life but our spirits go on forever. My dad told me once that he had met many beautiful woman who had such ugly spirits on the inside. I never want to become like that. Sometimes I even try to bring myself down which is the other extreme that can't be any better than vanity. My grandpa told me this trip that one day I would have to realize I'm beautiful and stop trying to make myself not. I think he meant the way I always try to criticize myself to prevent from getting to caught up in my looks. I'm trying harder to just expect myself and stay at a happy medium. I am still young, growing and learning. I want to become as beautiful on the inside as others see on the outside. The world tests us all with its views on how people should look and behave. I will hold to my religion and my standards, for they are the only true firm things I have.

Sunday, June 28, 2009


I've decided to post a few of my favorite poems that I have written.
I'll post them in time so that there is not an overwhelming amount of new text here.
This first one I wrote for my mother for mother's day.
This is dedicated to her.

By: Anne Ivy

A darkness deep,
Surrounds my child,
In restless sleep,
Lost and tired.

There is a light,
A beam of hope,
To give sight
To a world unknown.

A smile, a sigh
A lifelong friend.
A loving angel
I will send.

To bless, to help,
To save, to bring
All my children
Back to me.

Through lives trials
My children will fall
She is a soft pillow,
To catch them all.

She will never be
As any other.
My dear, lost child,
I send you a mother.

I am so grateful for all that my mother does for me. Every child deserves to have a mother, even when at times a teenager would wish they didn't, just ask the orphans or those who have lost mothers, I bet each one of them wishes they had one. This poem is written from God's point of view in case you were wondering.
Thanx to those who read my blog, I enjoy sharing with you.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Getting Somewhere

Life can be compared to an airport. It is a chaotic organized jumble of people all trying to get someplace in the world. The planes are each leaving to a certain place in life, which places the passengers are trying to reach.
One passenger has awaited his flight his whole life. He arrives at the gate hours early and simply waits. Another passenger never really cared where he was going and made a last minute decision to board the plane. He arrive barely in time.
Now the third passenger flys standby. He arrived at the airport with only an idea of where he might be going, yet he might be the most prepared. He will go through the airport checking boards, making phone calls and gathering information before he selects his flight.
There is no telling which of the three will be more successful with the direction they've chosen. It might be the man who took all the classes to be on that flight, if he fails he has no other choice, or maybe it will be the one who didn't care about his class selections and simply picked a random place. Possibly it could be the man who took every class available to him. The man who, though he did not have a ticket upon entering the airport, took the most time in making a wise decision.
I do not know if or when I'll get married. I don't know which college I'm going to. I don't know which teachers I'll have next year or how they will affect later decisions. I do know that I am entering that airport. I only have a few small bags but I am ready to fill them with knowledge. I will travel through the halls for as long as it takes to find my place. I can use my talents to help influence my decisions so that one day I can walk up to a ticket agent and say, "I'm ready to board."