The Language of Love………and Pain…..are the Language of the HEART

I have been talking every once in awhile with a young girl from another country. She has a translator for her face book messages. I don’t. At first, I was unsure about this person because I didn’t understand the language. Tonight she messaged me again. She was trying to get me to support a cause. I understood and immediately did what she asked and drew a butterfly on my wrist. When I couldn’t find the site to send it to, she sent me a facebook video call. I didn’t even know there was such a thing.

Don’t kill the Butterfly…..don’t slice your wrists.

At first I thought it didn’t work, and I gave up, but I drew the butterfly instantly and kept revising it, then sent it to her. So, the computer freezes and I have to close facebook. I see a download. I click it, and next thing I know, I’m on the phone with someone from another country! I grabbed my camera thingie and there we were. Me and this young girl who speaks Spanish and I speak English. My Spanish is simple words, that’s it, and she was going fast. I could catch a few words here and there, but in the end it didn’t matter. From the moment we saw each other, I saw her wipe a tear away. This encounter meant so much to her that she wiped a tear away. I was honored. We giggled and used hand motions. She was jabbering away and all I could do was smile this huge smile.

We showed each other our rooms, and spent an hour together. Not understanding each others words, but understanding each other. I showed her my hair braids and she showed me her beautiful long curly hair. I showed her some of my goat curls and showed her how I pull them apart so I can spin them. The majority of the conversation consisted of smiles and laughter. A smile is the same in any language. I did sign language for I love you and she recognized it and lit up like a Christmas tree. We spoke the language of love.

The language of love and the language of pain are both easily spoken and felt by the heart. Why the butterfly on the wrist? It is called, The Butterfly Project. It is designed for people who harm themselves. There are many forms of harming oneself, but this is more for the ones who do what is called…..Cutting. I’m familiar with cutting. When I was in a 30 day rehab place, people confided in me. People have always confided their most hidden secrets to me. In the middle of a meeting, a young man stands up. He asked if he could talk with ME, in another room. This guy never spoke, and wore long sleeves buttoned at the wrist. We were given permission and I had no idea what to expect. When the door closed behind us, he undid his cuffs and pulled up his sleeves, revealing scars and fresh slices from the wrist, all the way up. He just needed to unburden himself and he felt that I was the one he was safe to do that with. I was honored by his honesty and trust in me.

I have lived in severe physical and emotional pain, so t is easy for me to relate. I have also cut my wrists, so I can relate to the butterfly project as well. The butterfly is placed on the wrist, by tattoo, to prevent them from ‘killing’ the butterfly. A reminder, not to die. They didn’t have those when I was suicidal. I wasn’t a cutter, I was a want to die-er. I was alone. My new friend is not alone. She has me. I love you Sweet girl, and I want to meet you in person someday. The good of Life hasn’t even begun yet. I promise you. You are beautiful and you are loved.

Pain seems to be everywhere lately. My new friends from the grief group stay bogged down in the mud of despair, throwing out lifelines, hoping someone will grab theirs and pull them to safety, to comfort, to dry land. Another friend is about to lose the baby she has fostered, and her pain is so fresh and raw. It is this raw pain that changes us, forms us, sculpts the beautiful work of art that we end up becoming. It is in the reaching out for help, that we find ourselves. We find our hope, our Light at the end of the tunnel. Tunnel is a good word for this. Like a narrow tube, with only two ends…the in and the out, or the out and the in. If you find yourself in a tunnel, and you don’t know which is the in and which is the out….look for the light. It will be at the OUT end. I will meet you there. In the meantime, poke a hole, and peer out. I will be there, and God will be there. Hang on tight and watch for the light.

Oh ya. I just told you about the foster mom. You may remember the other day I was giving examples of thought power and I mentioned seeing the adoption complete, seeing the adoption papers…well, same person, and that brings me to the need to explain further. We can have desires, dreams and passions, but if they are NOT meant to be, then all the visualizing in the world won’t help a bit or change a thing. Sometimes, it’s not the right perfect thing for you or for the other people involved. Sometimes the answer is no. When the answer is NO, we must wait for the perfect thing that will be a YES. And there Will be a Yes. There will be good. There will be happy. You will be happy again. How many of the 365 days of last year do you remember? Life is a series of moments, and you have some great moments coming your way….

Back on the farm, I told you that I had figured out how to fix my catch system. I did it! It’s still not perfect, but oh, oh so much better. I was at loose ends this morning and just couldn’t get myself outside to shear. I stalled and stalled until Cathy suggested we try my idea instead. Yay Cathy! It didn’t take us all that long either. We just took the two remaining horse round pen panels and sectioned off the area near the catch pen, so it’s kind of like a chute now. Now, if I just had a few more……lol.

This is my bad catch system. Before I fixed it today. (We, Cathy helped me)

fixed…..a chute, catch system!

And………it works! Sort of. 🙂

We were able to keep Little Boy out of the Girls water today, thank goodness, which reminds me, I need to turn the water back on. 🙂 Don’t want my fishies to die, lol, or the goats. I keep goldfish in the troughs and they eat all the gunk that builds up. It’s a win win.

Before the video call last night, I was able to get some fiber work done. It’s been awhile! I love goat curls. I love the smell even. Not the buck rut smell, no, but the everyday average goat fleece smell.

Preparing curls to spin…..unpulled curls on the right. Yes, I’m wearing men’s sleep pants. They are so comfy.

Single curls to show you what they look like. See how shiny?

I was busy last night….pulled enough for part of a project. Need to pull some green next to finish it up, then I can spin. Or, I can spin this first…ahhh, freedom.

Today I had email problems with my IPhone, so I had to use my good camera for the goat pictures. Love it when that happens. So much better accuracy. I know, it’s more photos than usual, but they’re just so darn cute! Plus, I did make some small, to make up for it. I still have more but they can wait for tomorrow or maybe a rainy day.

Opti is my pal. We have fun together

Pure Handsomeness. That’s my Opitmus

Ahhh, my Valey Girl, named after my sister, isn’t she gorgeous?

 

As I’ve said, this is my story. These are things I see, hear, go through, and do. I’ve had these experiences lately with hurting people and I feel that I need to share. It’s not just your story, it has now become a part of mine. Please take no offense in my discussing things here. No names are ever mentioned, and your privacy is my utmost concern, aside from you being happy and content. I will always include you, if you’ve been a part of my day. I really do have love for all of you. I really do pray for peace and joy to all who read these words. God bless every single one of you. And YOU too! Signing off at Curly Locks Ranch.

 

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