Friday, April 30, 2010


I'm really into Ladies . . . . not in the gay sort of way (I prefer men . . . the Damon type). . . . .however . . . I LOVE WOMEN. Women are who I relate with best . . . . as I am a one.

A VERY AMAZING woman wrote this blog, and I just fell in love with her even more because of it. I must share.

"Durable . . . . . .

How many times have I walked passed this little patch of pansies? They line the pathway to our front door. The little English garden is dead/dormant...except for this remarkable beauty. The weather this winter has been dry... but at times, bitterly cold. How beautiful and durable is this amazing plant?

Allow me, if you will, to be sentimental. Seeing this flower, smiling at me in the morning sun, reminded me of the durable beauty of the women in my life. How many women do you know who endure bitterly cold trials in their lives while maintaining amazing grace and beauty? Life around them may be falling apart yet there they stand with a smile on their face, if only for the benefit and morale of their loved ones. In Austenland (not the book but the general genre of literature) men described women as delicate flowers requiring careful attention and handling.


Women are, in fact, flowers. But the kind that push up through frozen earth, the kind that emerge unscathed from under three feet of snow, the kind that may go unnoticed because they don't need to be carefully attended to, they can handle themselves.

I am grateful for these flowers in my life."

I am so very grateful for all the "flowers" in my life as well . . . . . .

Who stick with me through thick and thin (literally),

love me despite my many faults,

love my children as their own daughters or grand-daughters ,

serve me and my family unselfishly, when they are the ones who really need the break,

pray for me and my sanity,

inspire me to become a better mother, wife, sister, daughter, and friend,

laugh with me when I am happy, laugh at me when I am an idiot, and on those rare occasions when I cry . . . . . cry with me,

listen when I just need to vent,

and just plain understand . . . . . what its like to be a woman.


. . . . . you know who you are.