In One Blink


 

photos3

Memories of promises

made of tule and lace

lace

lost inside a moment

in one blink it’s been erased

floor crying girl

learning lessons can really hurt

and the pain can seem unending.

couple hugging melancholy woman's face

Smiles and sometimes laughter

stashed behind a heart’s pretending.

letter bundle

Faded letters now just memories

along with promises once made,

ring

by all the ones who’ve let me down…

the ones who should have stayed

bride walking in the waves

It’s hard to face  yesterday

when I stopped believing;

sad couple

 the day when I  realized promises

 don’t stop those you love from leaving.

woman crying outside the door

Diane Reed

2013

For my book…

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TODAY


I have had it all wrong. All of these years, I have laid back upon my past resting comfortably on it’s memories.  Whether it is  longing for it, or blaming it. I have bought into the theory that you can’t help what haunts you. And yet, you “can” choose to embrace TODAY. I have learned that… Tomorrow is the chain reaction to how we each live our todays. When you finally GET that your life will change from the inside out.

door little girl peeking out black and white

Yesterday I chose to embrace NOW. I enjoyed and appreciated who life put in front of me that second. And you know what? I wasn’t miracuously filled with so called joy, but I was less annoyed and simply happy.   I realize that I have been stuck in a pretty sad place. People actually noticed that I was different and it made me sit up and take notice…. That people actually noticed that I was different, made me realize how they might have been seeing me before.  It is not easy for me to admit that I need to work on places that are so simple and that I have been so stuck, but it is exciting to realize that I have the power to choose how I want to live my life each day.

winnie the pooh's tigger boing

Over the years, I have accumulated layers of sadness that I can’t deny. My heart has been broken a few times, I have been disappointed and dishonored. But those who dishonored me have done nothing more than i have done to myself by denying my own passion. If you’ve only known me for a while, you probably know I am a writer. Each day, I feel that I am getting closer to connecting with the right people and just perhaps, walking the right paths where opportunities will rise up to greet me.

All I know, is that…

You can  blame, or embrace the challenges you face

You can stay in your pain, staying  stuck in “that” place

sad girl brunette

getting lost in  the layers you’ve known through the years

as you collect and are the keeper of all of your tears…

crying girl

Or you can choose to believe that today is God’s gift

and be part of the lesson teaching others how to live

BeFunky_triumphant.jpg

You can rise above all the pain you’ve experienced in your life

as your message sings a song that reaches new heights!

Diane Reed

2013

My Story…. From my Archives


my story

I have come to the conclusion that in-between being a kid, a wife, a mom, single or married. Working for myself as an artist or a store owner or  working for someone else,  the one thing that I have always been is a writer. It is what defines me. I have filled books with ideas and half started  stories I have written poems and lyrics for songs. I have a million, trillion words inside of me that I want to share.

book store

I have listened and asked questions. I have read a thousand books and I have come to the conclusion that everyone has a story worth telling. We all can learn lessons from each other and so I feel that… we ALL should really be writers. But I “get” that some (well probably most normal people)  don’t have the “need” to share their stories. Their words are kept neatly in their brains! Thank you very much!

shel head

But I will always write! I have to. It is what I was made to do. I know that I drive people crazy by needing to know details and asking questions. I never really understood myself, why I have such a need “to know” stuff…  but I think in the end… I will use everything, every little detail…  to write stories that I haven’t even  thought up yet!

All of  us have different talents and weaknesses, sorrows and joy. We all beat to a different drum and so not everyone feels the same passion in their soul for the same thing another may. Which is a very good thing because not all teachers can design a building and not all Mechanics can assist in open heart surgery. But if that ‘thing’ that I call “magic” wasn’t squelched by life, most of us do have passion for something we want to be when we grow up, no matter how old we are.  I truly feel sorry for the kid who doesn’t know what he wants to be when he grows up.  I actually, believe that writers are born to be writers…  and they know it. AND some even get to get paid for doing it .

Passion is important.   It makes you get up in the middle of the night to write what is in your head or else you feel as if you will burst kind of passion.

typewriter glowing

Sometimes it does kind of get in the way of life, when I have to get up early for a job and I have been writing all night, those ideas don’t always happen at the most convenient of times…. But no matter how inconvenient…  I am glad I have it. When I was little, I’d escape my world of pain, by just opening a book. Each page I turned, had me slipping into a world far away from my own problems. Long ago, I knew that I wanted to do that for others.  Writing is a gift that can make the whole world go away or bring it straight to our front door through the archives of our memories.

door little girl peeking out black and white

A singer has to sing. An actress has to act, an artist has to create, a dancer has to dance and a doctor has to heal. A carpenter has to build, a comedian has to cause laughter, a swimmer has to swim and a writer has to write! Like a florist in her garden who takes time to smell the flowers, a writer’s words have their own sweet aroma that only her soul can smell.

Image

Moving Day


mirror renass

Looking back into the mirror,

split personality mirror

a reflection of my past…

mirror brokennnn

The doors I chose to walk through

and the ones I closed too fast…

three doors

Messages I never got

letter bundle

and the ones that I received…

phone call

the ones I knew were just your lies

and the ones that  I believed

phone off the hook

all pour through my memory

like rain beating on my heart

RAIN

years are not the only thing

that have torn my dreams apart.

breaking up

and made me see the strength in me

as I gather them up with care

moving day suitcases

and move on to another day

memory alone

where I won’t find you there

Diane Reed

2012

looking back quote

In Every Word I Write


The other day, my good friend Sandy,  a great writer herself,  sent me a  quote on how writing is courageous and how we put our flesh and blood down on paper and what a powerful thing we do, allowing someone in our mind of tangled and beautiful thoughts, in a way saying “here, untangle me.” And it inspired me to write this…

 writing a blog

I invite you inside  of me,

past the paper and the words,

past the adjectives and nouns,

between the errors and  adverbs…

writing poetry

 to see the rawest part of

the pain that  I feel

the fantasies I write about

 that I wish could be real.

reading more

The joy in the

very depth of my soul,

the triumphs and failures

that lead to my goals

words of dreams

you have followed me on every journey

and walked on every path.

You’ve been there through my tears

and  know what makes me laugh.

peaceful forest

Each word has been a trail,

weaved throughout my written life.

I give you each a part of me

in every word I write.

writing just hand view

Diane Reed

2013

Chapter Nine – Revised


This is a revised version of the very last chapter that I published (a while ago)  from my book that is still in progress! In honor of those who have taken the time to read and even help with editing. I have tried to take all the suggestions and though I know there may be more to work on… I’d love anyone’s feedback who might take the time to read it. As always… I have mentioned before that if you have not read the first previous chapters (one through eight) you might not follow… but for those who have… Here is Chapter Nine revised. Thank you for your time!

Diane

open diary

Chapter Nine

In the weeks that followed, Keri learned to handle  her relationship with Jack on her own. It was a balancing act. She thought that she was doing  fine. But people began asking her if she was okay.  She caught herself snapping back. Keri trusted no one to talk  about Jack’s mood swings, Keri carried it all on her own shoulders. Then one day, Mrs. Walker came to her with tears in her eyes. She’d been worried about Keri and actually read her journal, “not all of it, but enough” she confessed. Keri was horrified. She’d always trusted the agreement they’d  shared, without so much of a second thought and through the years, she never suspected otherwise and became quite unconcerned and free about what she’d write. If truth be known, her teacher never breached that trust ever before, until she had she’d seen a change in Keri. Keri was coming  to class  upset more and more often.  One day Keri came to drop off an assignment and hadn’t waited to talk to Mrs. Walker who called after her. Keri did  not hear her. Or at least  acted as if she hadn’t.  Mrs. Walker was pretty sure she had.

Keri scrambled inside her head as her teacher stood in front of her with a pitiful look of concern. She tried to recall what she might have written recently.  When there’d been no other place to go but inside the pages of her journal. Mrs. Walker laid the leather-bound book in front of her. Tears of anger burned in Keri’s eyes. All this time, Keri had believed that Mrs. Walker was just initialing each new entry without reading a word. Now, she didn’t know what to believe. Keri snatched the book up and held it tightly against her chest. She wondered how far back that Mrs. Walker might have read.  Her teacher saw the look of betrayal on Keri’s face and rushed to explain. She’d just been concerned,  now, she couldn’t ignore what she’d read. Keri stiffened as Mrs. Walker tried to touch her arm. She pulled away and picked up her books and ran out of the library without a word.

woman crying

Keri agonized all night long. She couldn’t talk to Jack about this. He would be so angry with her. He did not know about the journals. She’d read poems to him from them, but her journals had been hers. They were not even for Jack to know about. She had not wanted him to ask to read them so she never mentioned them.  Her head swam. All of a sudden the room started spinning. Keri grabbed her mouth and ran to the bathroom and got sick. Keri kneeled by the basin coughing and crying.  She’d never felt so betrayed. And yet the hardest thing about her anger was that  she knew that her teacher really did just care. And yet she was just so ashamed that anyone  knew that she’d allowed Jack to treat her the way she’d described in those sacred pages.  Now, she felt naked and as if she wanted to run away, far away where no one knew her. That night she decided that she was going to finish High School even earlier than she’d planned. She did not want to have to deal with Mrs. Walker or anyone. She was so confused. During their conversation, Mrs. Walker told Keri she’d always be there for her if she needed her and  suggested that perhaps she’d really wanted her to read what she’d written. It just made no sense to Keri  and more angry at her teacher.

The next day Keri  went to her counselor to find out exactly what credits she still needed. She was happy to discover that she could complete them all  by taking the required exams through a few independent study classes that she could do on her own through the counseling office at the local community college. She was surprised how everyone seemed to support her plan. Keri  explained that she wanted to finish her Senior year early since her schedule was so minimal. She told everyone that she planned to start working at the Speech and Development School full-time, and have a little time  in-between before she had to start her college classes. She decided that rather than going away to school, she would take some of her general education classes at the  same community college where the counseling office was that she would be reporting to until she completed her High School credits. Surprisingly,  her counselor and her parents didn’t question her new change of plans even though she’d be forfeiting the scholarships she’d applied for. In fact, her mom and dad didn’t seem to discourage or encourage her to go to college. Jack was the only one who really encouraged her to go and yet the idea of  going away to school now,  seemed less and less appealing to both of them as they fell more deeply in love.

The weeks passed quickly and her own graduation was uneventful. There just wasn’t one. A few months later, after completing all of the requirements.  She’d gone to pick up her report card and diploma from the office, only to be told that her official diploma would not be available until after her graduating class had gone through the actual ceremony in June.  Suddenly the realization of what she’d done and was missing out on, hit her. Her choices impacted many things she’d been looking forward to. She’d known that she would miss her prom and other school activities the following year, but she’d also reasoned that Jack would not have wanted to go to any of it and she did not  want to go without him. And yet, Keri couldn’t help feel a tear slip down her cheek as she headed for the parking lot, with her report card in her hand.

The year before meeting Jack, she’d been invited to a boy’s Grad night who she’d met at church and been dating casually for a few months. He was valedictorian of his class and Keri was honored to be his date.  They’d gone to Disneyland after she’d watched him speak to his graduating class and the entire night had been magical.  She was glad that she had that memory, and decided it was going to have to be enough. She was just relieved that school was  behind her and that  Mrs. Walker  had not said anything to anyone else about what she’d read in Keri’s journals. Keri was sure she would have called her parents but for some reason she hadn’t, and Keri was grateful.

When Keri ripped open her report card and saw the A+  in English, a melancholy feeling came over her. She walked toward her car as she scanned the paper. Memories flooded her thoughts as she remembered  all the things she’d learned about writing from Mrs. Walker. She remembered the first time her teacher approached her with tears in her eyes after reading something that she’d written and telling Keri that she had a gift. Tears blurred Keri’s eyes,  just as she was about to  bump into Mrs. Walker herself, who looked equally surprised. She’d not seen Keri for several weeks though signed off on her class after  learning of her plans to not pursue her current scholarship she’d been disappointed but decided not to interfere. In fact, she decided to do nothing.

Keri had seen the familiar signature and had felt uncomfortable. She hadn’t seen her teacher since that day in the library. Only she and Mrs. Walker knew the truth of why she was really graduating early.  “Thanks for the A” Keri said uncomfortably. “You earned it as always, Keri”. Mrs. Walker smiled “Good luck to you honey, you are very talented, I hope you do something great with your writing.” Keri knew that graduating early had ruined her chances for several of the scholarships she was up for,  ones that they worked on together.  Suddenly they just hugged. Though it wasn’t clear who reached out first. The embrace was long and genuine. “Thanks for everything Mrs Walker” Keri whispered hoarsely and Mrs. Walker hugged her a little tighter and then slowly let go. At that moment, she knew Keri better than any adult in her life. The years of mentoring and long talks about her dreams to write, and then watching her progress and win awards, had been her teacher’s own reward. She wanted to say so many things to Keri at that moment and yet she knew that they were all things she would have to learn on her own.

hug

A Letter To The First Commenter On My Blog


At the risk of tooting my own horn. And the need for a good affirmation every once in a while. I just had to share this idea that Leah had! For us all to go and thank our commentors! They are the ones that keep us going. I totally am blown away by this recognition! But I thought it was such a stellar idea. As one of her followers said… they’d trade one great comment for 100 LIKEs. It really does make a difference. You never know. At the risk of breaking the 500 word rule which I probably do everytime 😉 Here is my sweet friend’s wonderful blog of the day! Oh yeah did I mention it was about me? ;D

LITTLE MISS WORDY

Red Circle Days

Dear Diane,

I imagine it was just a regular day for you as you held your coffee mug and surfed the internet for a quick morning read. Maybe you were running late and after reading some of the blogs you normally follow, you had a few minutes to spare before you absolutely had to be on your way. It is possible you saw my Gravatar on one of those blogs and something compelled you to click on it or maybe you just happened to search through the WordPress Topics regarding 9/11 that day when my newly birthed blog lit up your screen.

Truth be told, my blog didn’t consist of much that would light up a screen back then. I hadn’t a clue what I was doing. I had no idea about the rules of blogging. I didn’t even include an image in the post. I gave no thought…

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The Most Distressed


I don’t often post a series except of course in posting my chapters 1-9 from my unpublished book’s rough draft…  So this is unusual for me to do a two parter but I just was so inspired by the message I received yesterday while picking grapes at our friend’s vineyard, that I had to just add this today….

In the course of yesterday while I was picking grapes at my friend’s Harvest Day Vineyard Grape Picking Party… I was told to avoid the clusters where there were over 50% “raisins” (shriveled grapes).

grapes raisins

However, later as we were chatting over wine and good food, I learned different lessons of the art of winemaking and one of them was that the stressed grapes make the better wine. (Not to be confused with the raisins!)

It’s in the fruit that is the most distressed,

the one that ‘s weathered and withstood the test.

it’s the fruit that’s clung onto the vine

that someday makes the better wine.

RAIN

Oh Lord, I’ve finally begun to see

the message today, you had for me.

I may not always understand the pain

but growth is found beneath the rain.

grapes distressed

inside the storm as we hang on..

It’s in those times that have made us strong.

For those who’ve held on longest to the vine…

They are God’s reserve…

HIS finest wine!

wine glass

Diane Reed

’13

The Bucket Dumper


grape young girl picking

Today was an amazing day. I got to hang out with great friends in their vineyard and be part of their harvest! They invited us to help pick their grapes and it was an awesome experience.

larry baldwin1

The group of people that gathered this morning happily worked like a fine oiled machine. We each got a bucket to fill, a glove and pruning shears. And though I missed church (which I have been doing a lot lately, another blog for another time…. ) I kind of had my own service all within my own few rows of grapes.

grapes bucket

I am kind of competitive, even with myself. So I had fun seeing how fast I could fill a bucket and how many I could fill. The only thing was that the fuller the bucket got, the further down the row I got and the place to dump the grapes was all the way back up the row.

grapez

So after a few dumps, I jokingly made a comment that we needed a bucket dumper who went around and took our filled buckets in exchange for an empty one. Low and behold someone took on that task.

larry baldwin

Of course “me” the lover of a good metaphor is not going to let this one pass. So, I started relating the bucket dumper to what God does for us… He provides us with a bountiful harvest and takes the fruits of our labors and lessens our load with His grace. The job of the bucket dumper is not a glorified one.

 grapes bucket being emptied

I’ve always loved it when I get to  cook a great meal and someone will come in behind me as I go and wash the dishes.

They are the ones without the glory and yet most appreciated by not only the chef and the winemaker but everyone not having to do that job..

So… whether it is a  meal or a bottle of wine, it is not in just the end result but all that goes on behind the scenes. It’s all about the entire process and sometimes, it’s not just about how many buckets that “I” fill but it is more about being grateful for  the dish washers and the bucket dumpers that help create the magic!

wine bottle

Sometime it’s not about how full the bucket is, but what’s in the heart of the one who fills it.

                                                                         Diane Reed ’13

Oh My Soul


The Joy of The Lord

The mystery of our souls and the way that they are formed

makes me wander back to a place, long before I was born

healing waters

I imagine heaven and God preparing me for earth

big bubble

and how I must have played up there long before my birth

bubbly pic

It’s makes me kind of sad that we forget it all so fast

the memory of how we started and why it couldn’t last

closed curtains little girl

It must be in the lessons and the things we’ve yet to know

the ones that we hang on to and the ones that we let go

floor crying girl

My soul has always been there, though sometimes I feel it more

soul

through the darkest times and the times it’s been restored

water raining in a stream

Carrying me through trials and when  I felt most alone

Jesus answers prayer

floating upon the memory of the promise to return home.

praising Jesus in the clouds

Diane Reed

2013