Be Brave!

I posted this picture on Facebook this week and truly believed in what it said.

Today I had an opportunity to share a small piece of my life story with a young woman. It is interesting how the conversation came about and I believe with all my heart that it is always, always divine intervention.

Sometimes it takes a lot of bravery to tell your story. You fight back tears but you know in the core of your being you need to be strong and tell it anyway. Sometimes, the tears need to be shared also.  I have been blessed to be presented with more opportunities than I can recall to share my experiences and learn later how much it has helped someone. I have been able to tell one or two of my life stories in front of large crowds of people and allowing so many people to see your emotion is not always the easiest thing but I am always amazed at who my words touched. I don’t take credit for that because the words that seem to have the most impact are the ones I never intended to say. They weren’t in my notes, they are what I call “Heart Words”.

Today’s conversation was also a healing process for me. Because of sharing with someone of my trials, I was able to relive those just a bit and address some of my feelings by sharing.

By sharing your experience you also meet some of the most incredible people and you get to know them on a level that most superficial relationships never attain. When you see those people the next time, you look at each other, really look at each other, and that look is with knowing eyes and hearts.

So…..Be Brave! Share those thoughts and feelings. Listen to your inner voices that tell you it is okay and this is what you need to be doing. You will have an opportunity to help someone if you just pay attention. Guess what? It probably helps you more than them.

Brothers and Sisters Day

I just saw something that said this coming Wednesday was Brothers and Sisters Day. Interesting that came up because I have been thinking a lot lately, actually the past year, about my little brother. We were 6 days shy of 2 years apart in age but really were like twins. We grew up in a very small town so we were playmates and best friends. He was tragically killed in an unintended firearm discharge. (A friend recently explained the difference in that and the word accident so I am choosing that for now)

My world changed the day that happened. I recently read an article about grief and it said that we need to celebrate all the time we had with someone instead of concentrating on the day they died because that was only one day in their life. I choose to do that. So this is about Charles Spencer Grover and his life, not the day he died.

I started this blog to put into words my journey into a new life after my husbands death and to share those experiences with you but I believe it is time to pay honor to my baby brother, Chuck, or as I called him, Chuckie. Thinking of him is a big part of my journey. 

If he were a child today he would be diagnosed with ADD or some other alphabet soup something or other. We could not have been any different in looks or temperament. He was blond, piercing blue eyed with a light complexion just like our dad. I was darker skinned, brown eyed and dark hair like mom. He was always, always, always in trouble for something and I was the good kid who never got in trouble. Maybe I played the game better at not getting caught. Who knows now.  It would be nice to share some of those memories and hear what his take was on all of it. I am sure he would be picking on me in some manner and maybe even remembering events differently. The good side of that is there is no one to dispute my side of the story. My memory is pure fact!

He was insanely musically talented even at a young age (I could only turn the radio on). He constantly found injured, wild animals and brought them home to nurse back to health. I like to think he would have been a veterinarian  or a very popular musician. No matter what he would have done with his life he would have been my brother and best friend to this day had he lived. We had another brother who was 7 years older than me and we were never close. He ended his life when he overdosed on cocaine many years later. His alcoholism and drug addiction prevented us from ever being close so my memories always go to Chuckie when I think of a brother.

A few years back a client of mine was sitting across from me and looked peculiar suddenly. I thought perhaps it was just the personal questions I was having to ask as a mortgage banker. She told me she had a gift and I could choose not to believe her if I wanted but she needed to tell me there was a young spirit with me and it was the purest soul she had ever encountered. She asked me if “Chuckie” meant anything to me. Whoa! She went on to tell me he was always with me. Still not certain what I think about all that but for her to know the name “Chuckie” and then to tell me he was always with me was startling to say the least. I don’t know a lot about guardian angels but I like to think he is mine.

I keep a picture of the two of us on my bedside table and frequently look at it and smile. Is he really by my side always? I don’t know but I do know he is in my heart always and no matter how many years have passed he will always be my little brother and I will always have the good memories. This is my homage to Brothers and Sisters Day on Wednesday and to my brother, Chuckie.

Do you have a special brother or sister you want to tell me about?

RANDOM RAMBLINGS ABOUT HAIR

Girls have a thing about their hair, at least most do (and Steven Tyler maybe). Our hair dictates what kind of day we are going to have many times. You shower, do makeup, pick out clothes, jewelry and shoes and then the hair doesn’t cooperative and bam!....confidence gets tweaked because of it. 

(I still drool like this somtimes,too)

I have had wild, curly hair all my life but recently got it professionally straightened.

What a difference the change made in me. It may have been coincidental to other things going on in my life but I think the hair played a part. I even posted pictures on Facebook showing off my new straight locks.

Where do we get the psychology of hair being so important? Our mothers putting bows and ribbons in it when we are tiny? Pressure from advertising/media? Does it go further back than that, Cleopatra maybe? This site tells the story about hair through the ages and perhaps explains somewhat.

A friend of mine recently changed her hair from her normal blonde to dark brown. I think it made a difference in her thinking. How does this happen?

And what about men and the long hair thing? Is that ancient thinking with visions of dragging the woman around by her hair ala cave man?

I change my hair frequently depending on where I am in my life. It may be long and straight today but who knows in 3 months what I may look like.  Short and blonde maybe? Probably not but you just never know.

Chime in and let me know.  Girls, does your hair affect your thinking/confidence? Guys, does your hair impact you the same way (at least you have the option of growing a beard, mustache or goatee  to change your appearance)?

Since I no longer have the wild and crazy curls I guess I will have to move the wild and crazy to my new attitude.