A HEART INSPIRED

"Why do you judge other religions"? A question posed to me. It seems harsh to non-believers when a Christian takes the stand of dismissing other religions. It's more inclusive and tolerant to simply not be bothered by other's beliefs. 'To each his own'. Yes and no - (more on this later). The truth of it is - if I sit with it. Ponder it. Wrestle with it - I'm left in tears. My heart aches for God. I know He most absolutely does not need my pity nor my empathy - and still, the thought of Him, being rejected shatters me. When you take into account that there are those who don't believe that the Bible is The Word of God - Or even believe that there is a God, the argument simply stalls - comes to a halt - a complete full-stop. Where does a follower of Christ go with that? How do you walk away and not be affected by someone's strong disbelief? It comes at a cost. This unbelief. A deliberate denial that has the gravest of eternal consequenc

Rusty. Me. Sorry. This is probably the most idiotic thing I've done in quite some time. Attempting to write this piece. I'm out of practice. Crusty and rusty. In the very least, I shall try... The hard fact is that I may very well be responsible for a number of people not having a faith or a belief in God. This is nothing short of devatstating and tearfully unacceptable! This is my humble attempt at remedying this catastrophe. If you know me, you know that I say what I'm thinking. (Often to my own detriment)I rarely mince words and if I do, its only momentarily. I will get it out sooner or later (much to the dismay of my many unsuspecting casualties). Articulate, yes. But not always accurate - yup, that's me. I've been complimented by some very scholarly folks on my diction and writing style, which is great. But bring up the topic of God, Theology, The Bible and I'm a babbling idiot. I've been cursed with the gift of my ' delivery '

It's a new day. A new decade. A new look. A new feel. A new attitude. A new truth. A new gratitude. A new excitement. A new longing. A new road. It is ~ a new lease. Fifty. I'm being truthful when I say that I wasn't all too sure that I'd ever see it. Dramatic, I know. I mistakenly believed for a long time that fifty was the inevitable end. Even unatainable. If I were to be blessed to see it, that too much time would have passed to even consider looking towards the horizon. That it would be the kids turn to live and accomplish and dream. My turn to sit in the shadows. I had my chance. One and done. Today, it feels like there's a whole nother life to live. Like I'm only, actually, half way there. Which in itself is promising. Be it fruitful or dismal - it's mine to determine, explore, relish. Getting to the place where the kids are well on their way and doing great is a mother's ulitmate joy. Few things can put my heart at ease as knowing that

It has been a minute and a half since I've been on this blog. She has a new fresh look and feel, which I'm really excited to share. So welcome back to us both. I've grown somewhat weary of the current events and wanted an engaging read to provide a bit of an escape - and well, I found myself here. I'm not planning on ducking out on reality just yet and may even bring some of it here to you. Nothing too heavy, possibly some comedic relief along with a good dose of banter. This world certainly does not turn up short when it comes to discussion topics. Can we agree on that much? (wink-wink). Firstly, I'm a little giddy to embrace the change of seasons coming. I'm already noting the changing of shadows falling across my yard each morning. A tell-tale sign that fall is nigh. Our evenings are cooler as well. You may be surprised to learn we are living in NC now - and missing FL, as it were. Three of my four kids are currently in FL, however - finishing un

Every year for the past twelve years - I wait. I wait for November to come around. The 'wedding' anniversary.  Then I wait again. I wait for March to come around. The 'it's over' telephone call anniversary. But between November and March I'm hit with December, January and February. It will occur to me out of the clear blue, 'hey, wait a minute - it's February, he's talking to her. January. 'Oh yeah, they're already together'. December. Ouch. How much longer before My November? I remember  September, August, July. The empty house. Surely he brought her there. Twice I was leveled to my core being in there. My soul knew.  Still, I hold onto November, because it's mine. Although, I'm pretty sure he squandered that day too. Then, I wait. For the memory to pass. For the air to come back to me. Usually it does. Sometimes, the recalling forces the realization that the deceit went way beyond that first November, twelve years back. Waiting.

it happened in a dream within a dream within yet, another dream. the embrace of all embraces. all of the words of a single soul and an entire universe. unspoken. experienced an unrelenting embrace. that came after the stroking of my hair. i didn't have the heart to explain. i wanted to live in it. i wanted it to never end. a world where dreams collided.

Thief. You took what was not yours to take. Stolen. While I drown in the wake. Taken. From me those images I can't escape. Lost. Can't get them back it's too late. Forever. They should have been mine. Gone. Into the misty shadow of time. Shattered. My heart forever broken. Left. Without even a glimpse or token. Tears. I shed upon remembering.  Hands. Shaking and trembling. Story. Ends and pages are torn . Life. Each precious one was born. Can't. Even look back at times like those. Pain. Aches from my head to my toes. Never. Should have been can't wish it away. Please. Don't make me long for another day. If. We never met and never did. They. Would be missed, who am I to kid. So. Thank you for the memories I cannot keep. Because. Looking back cuts too damn deep.

When each one of my babies were just born - brand new. Tiny. Perfect. Helpless. I used to spend countless hours staring at them. At their uniqueness. Their perfection. Just sit and stare. Admire. Take them all in. I was in amazing awe. It never did get old. No matter how much time ticked away, whether they were asleep, eating, playing, interacting - I just could not get enough.  My heart eagerly seeking to behold them. It was simply captivating to be in their presence. ~ In a different way, well before the children came along,  a re-done closet would call my attention. Or newly picked up room. Or even earlier on, an essay. Attentively orchestrated. The penmanship. The ornately stacked, crisp paper. Blue scrolling of script. Recently, its my garage. We tore into it the other week. A place for everything. And everything in its place. I find myself yearning to take a peak. I'll even stop what I'm doing elsewhere in the house just to go and walk in the space. I'm

The Mid-Life-Crisis. We all know someone who has been through it. Forcing others to go through it with them. We may, ourselves, be the ones who are going through it. This is not a bashing piece. It is, however the human condition. We mock it. Society giggles. "There goes another one". We shake our heads. Because we know. It's a given. It will happen. And it never ends well. Here's the way it unfolds. You wake up one morning. You can't breath. Where has all of the air gone? Panic ensues.  You look next to you. You see the same person you have been nesting with your whole adult life. You decide you don't like them. You look in the mirror. See a stranger. You don't like him either. You drag yourself through your day. Barely present. On auto pilot. Dying. Just dying to see it differently. You long to end this angst. You want a do-over. All day long. You just want a do-over. Because somewhere in the midst of all you have become. All you have created. You a

Paper dolls dazzling as the sun Walking down the aisle one by one The span of 3 lifetimes a kiss and a song Quick and swift as the day is long Youth did shadow the mind and the heart One foot out the door right from the start Never really there just a shadow in the mist A silent movie a snare and a fist She needed a hero and a moment and someone to love Sadly there was not one -not one to speak of So in the end it's all he knows it's all he tries As she quietly watches  his wandering eyes Years of denial and a life built on lies The heart hardens as she cries and cries A paper doll who crumbled shriveled and fell The hands that held her the oceans did swell Moving to yet another doll - as if he could Love this one better - love this one good {Valentina Silver©️}

Can you hear it? Listen. Can you hear it? Maybe you've already heard it? Is the smoke choking you? Blinding you? Are you oblivious to it? Do you choose to ignore it? Is it simply that you hide from it? Cannot fathom or rationalize it? Are you in the thick of it? Have you become a part of it? It is the cry of the nations. The echo of the lands.  S.O.S.  A lack of benevolence has gripped humanity beseeching a universal reckoning. The cry resounds. A roar. A hysterical calamity. Jaw shattering. Heart thumping. Fist pounding. Gut wrenching. Sorrow. Children killing children. Men raping babies. Girls and boys being stolen, just to be sold. Rampant is the sex slave industry. Society dictating our worth. Governments perverting our ideals. Countries hijacking countries. Ego's blowing up borders. Lies presented as truth. Darkness swallowing light. Death beating out life. And we are all scared to death. Scared into silence. But as a believer, I know that Justice is comin

I've fallen for this before. Being put in a place of make believe battle. For the purpose of enabling the villain and his blame game. But it was necessary then. I played a role. Too weak to bow out. Although my role was not really necessary then, it is most definitely not necessary this time around. That I am certain of.  I  feel blessed to have had the revelation necessary to free me of the bondage and evil that so desires to ensnare me. Allow me to express myself.  I am oftentimes somewhat cryptic in my writing. At times, maybe not so much. I am at a little bit of a crossroads with this piece because I try so hard to not be so pointed. If you are a reader of my stuff, and you know me, you may know what I'm talking about. If you just stumble upon my writing, you'd have to guess. Let's proceed in the fashion of a minuscule Novelette. Or more of a Narrative. The characters: Leading Man ~ Cale. Leading Lady ~ Priscilla. Lady in the shadows ~ Gertrude. Second Lady

I just met her. The "Me" I always thought I wished I was. She was fabulous. Fabulously young and confident. Smart and savvy. You could tell she was a hard worker. Did I mention confident? This girl was definitely going places. But only if she doesn't let herself get in the way. Initially, one would think she was unapproachable. Tall, blonde, polished. She's got it all together. Now, the funny thing is....at that age, I never would have been able to start the conversation. So even though at first glance, I found myself  wishing I was more like her, it's the me I am today that allowed two complete strangers to have such a connection. She is my oldest child's age.  I remind her of her best friend .  She and my daughter are living parallel lives. School. Work. More school and more work. So...we talked about school and we talked about work, while we sat waiting for our oil changes. "So, you're in school? And you're working. Awesome. So is my d

This is a funny time in our culture. Well, not funny haha funny...just blah funny. Never before in civilized history, that I can recall,  has the "Family" been so disposable. There seems to be no stopping it. Not even the  desire  to stop it seems to exist. Families were not meant to be disposable. Razors, yes. Cash, maybe. Disposable connotates temporary. Some things were just meant to last. So. We adapt. We accept. And we hope to God that it doesn't kill us. Eventually your kids see you go through one wife, then another and then, possibly another. And its all good. All acceptable. It's such a funny notion to me. Yet so many of us are living it. Not only have we come to accept it. It actually is more okay than its not. Its a funny notion, I say. Today I got to meet the "new" one. The one that made the cut. For now. Don't get me wrong. She seems quite lovely. I knew she would be. And quite frankly, we deserve a good one after the hell we've

What will we do at the end of time. When words and pages are no longer yours, no longer mine? Hair is of midnight, eyes are of sea-glass. Greener than any depth, most dazzling, you've ever seen. She writes and she reads the pages and every word in between. Heart worn on the outside of her chest. The words are like morsels of nourishment to our souls. Without them our very breath would be lost. So bring us each letter all flaxen in gold, sprinkled and brazen, there's so much more to behold. Mysterious and driven, by the hearts yearning to say. All that is in us all that wants to escape. Fear has no boundaries and damn the beguiled. For the pages beneath the pen each one is compiled. Is but a vessel for the ship that has sailed. The journey, it may be long and ragged. But the bleeding of pages is the cure for the heart turned to ash. Release my dying sweet splendor of rhyme. Love me dearly, my poem my crime. ~ For my sweet Meggy {Valentina Silver©️}

Forty years have passed. The ache is new. Yet Familiar. Its tugging a strange comfort. Happiness has never made its nest, never quite settled in. You know why. Yet you choose oblivion. Its safer you know. Than the reality. You wait for the phone to ring. For an invitation. You sit alone. And wonder how your life turned out this way. Such a fool. An arrogant sod. The generations filling in. Impressive in numbers. You don't know them. You couldn't possibly. Why oh why, you ask again and again. The ego. A false friend. A bitter enemy. You cling to it. Its all you've got. In the bitter end. You quarrel with yourself. Blame yourself. Despise yourself. Forty years have passed. Forty years ago. The pain you caused. Devastation and turmoil. Such a hollow aching. Bitterness you bore. And selfishness you knew. The lonely won out. And you bailed. A lost child. Hurt. So hurt. Could not see past the longing. Could not see all the pain you were causing. For the mere chance at this ha

She has forgotten and can't seem to recall. It was  but a dream. After all. She awoke but didn't rise. To seize the day before her. So it shall lay in wait. For the evidence one must consider. The heat was flush and misty dawn raw. Sensing the thrill but not the fall. Lest the bliss cease and the joy escape. Memories are dust beneath her faith. Secrets be damned and the truth be told. For who should stand and be so bold. The artist creates illusions and plants the seed. But the heart is cold and driven by greed. Bring to me all that is mine. Declares the one who draws the line. Yet the truth is simpler and much sweeter than this. But forgoing the remedy leaves a fool remiss. It's not in the desire and its not in the want. See the mortals who so easily flaunt. Its in the tender heart and its in the truth. Test it and see. Its there and its proof. Its always been and always will be. Alive and well. An age old thing. For all of eternity and all

Unfortunately...she did.  Ok, I wasn't going to go there...because, honestly, I didn't think I really cared. I have been of the mind set lately that 'people are going to do what they are going to do and to hell with everyone else.' I mean, really, I have way too much going on in my own life to worry about what little 'Hannah" is up to. Who cares!?! It hasn't gotten the press that you would think it would. We all know what I am referring to without me actually saying it. I just didn't want to give it any more attention that it doesn't deserve. But...I do have children I am raising in this world. And I do have an 18 year old young woman for a daughter. Who I think is beautiful and dare I say, she's got the whole sexy thing going on. But I will be damned if she were to come even close to this behavior, even for one moment. As much as I tried to ignore what the whole world witnessed the other night on television, I guess I just can't. What

Stretched before him, the hushed whisper of a lark Distancing itself, pulling him towards the dark Fighting for a disclaimer, a renewed sense of self Forgetting all the while, how he squandered his wealth A new body and lips that sting, never a thought of his own device Searching for that stardom that eludes him,  but at what price Words are mere words, that's it and nothing more  Without the heart to back it up, empty at its core In its depths of stupidity, mire and lust Leave a man watching, as his dreams turn to dust Try as he may, he spews only wrath No one is to blame, he's created his own path He speaks of rules, disclaimers and boundaries on words that sting And yet he knows of no such honor, knows of no such thing Happiness deceives him, its just out of reach  Trapped inside out, twisted and breach He wouldn't stop wouldn't listen, put up those fists, fought and fought  The result of a life tossed aside, a life lear

Mirror, mirror on the wall, whom is it that you see, after all?  Who do you see? Who is reflecting back at you? There are so many images of ourselves that we portray, which one do we believe in? Which one is true? Which one is it that the world around us can trust? We are all so unique, yet so much alike. Put us in familiar surroundings and we lose all inhibitions. We're 17 again and life has no boundaries. Put us in a corner and you may have the fight of your life on your hands. Put us on a pedestal and you'll forever have a treasure in your hands. Complex and adaptive as we are, we are all the same. Deep down, beyond the surface. Underneath the facade. Our hearts beat with the same expectation. Our arms ache for the warmth of an embrace. Our minds race with thoughts of adventure. Our spirits thrive for freedom, yet at the same time for a sense of belonging. Mirror, mirror on the wall, whom is it that you see, after all? We are reflections of one another. You, looking

Valentine's Day. That oh so special day. It comes but once a year. You'd have to be an idiot to not see it coming. The jewelry commercials, the love songs, candy everywhere. Balloons. Flowers. Red. Red. Red.  Chocolate. Measuring in the tons. It is a sweet holiday, kids love it. Moms adore it. Guys sorta like it, if it means a little extra affection. We shower our kids with heart shaped boxes and bears holding treats. Sweethearts spend days planning special dates. It really does bring out the best in people.    Wish everyday could be Valentine's Day. Could you imagine, having that kind of excitement and anticipation to look forward to. The funny things is, it comes and it goes. Just like every other longed for event.  How can we keep the thrill and excitement for longer than one day? How do we make it last? Feelings are so fleeting and iffy. We, as a race are so fickle and I can surely empathize with the masses. It's like everything in life. We

I've been thinking of a "word" to live-out through all of 2013...It would have to be positive and inspirational. Uplifting and honoring. One that would remind me to be good to myself and others. Daily. It would need to possibly challenge me, although not too much. It should, as a result, improve my outlook on life and benefit everyone I know. The first word I pondered was...grace. Give it, receive it, be abundantly generous with it. That was quickly rejected two days later when life kicked me in the teeth. Okay. So next choice...decadent. I would simply find something that I would label decadent each and everyday. Be it an experience or a treat. A sunrise or a sunset. A breezy, balmy tropical storm. An emotion or a memory. This one seemed simple, after experiencing some lovely moments two days in a row. Wonderful, we're on a role. Except, yeah...not so quick. The kids went wild, work got nuts and let's just say the cash wasn't flowin' and it got pretty

The dawn of a new morning is shining bright. The alabaster haze breaks through the night. The pulsing beat of a heart surrendered. Revealing the mask of a great pretender. The drift of sleep and a midnight's cry. The difference between a truth and a lie. Confusion and wonder lead the way. As the dreamer yearns for one more day. The scope of reality is nothing more. Than the embers of illusion nearing the shore. Adrift and alone in the mighty depths. Reaching the light searching for strength. And all the while the light shines through. The darkness recedes, releasing you. And once again, an alabaster haze will come a'beckoning. Whilst your midnight's cry is left reckoning.  {© Valentina Silver} ~ The dream world. It fascinates me. It thrills me. It can, on occasion, frighten me. I have always had movie-like dreams, in that they play-out like a prime-time mini-series. At times, I have full command of their direction and ending. Other times, I am a mere o

I often, cannot seem to find the words, when in conversation with a non-believer, to express the true majesty of  God. The creator of everything. I feel like a bumbling idiot more than half the time and more recently have found myself, surprisingly, quieted. That should be proof enough right there that there is a God...me quiet. That's funny! Anyway, I just wanted to talk about what I know to be true and the One great thing that truly inspires my heart. It's the love of God . Plain and simple. My daughters wrote a song...and it goes a little like this...." It's a love like no other ...it's a love I can't describe"  {It is just beautiful. BEAUTIFUL. I hope you get to hear it someday.} And that is true to some extent. The, 'I can't describe part.'  But really, I can. I know I can. My aunt gave me a New Testament Bible when I was just five years old. I have moved more than 30 times in my life and this little Bible...is on my desk as I wri