
Love Me For Who I Am



Morning came too soon today,
I wanna crawl back in my bed.
I wanna close my sleepy eyes,
and cover up my head.
There’s no rest for the weary,
at least that’s what they say.
I guess I’ll have to suck it up
and go on about my day.
I’ll make myself some coffee
just a pot or two,
then I must get started
on all I have to do.
I should tidy up the house
pay the bills now overdue,
decide what to make for dinner
and wash a load or two.
I haven’t dusted in a while
I should get that done,
no one else will do it
I guess I’m the only one.
Then again . . .
The mess will just return
later on today,
the bills are late already
what harm is one more day?
No one’s gonna starve to death
if I don’t cook and prep and bake,
they can forage in the pantry
for something they can make.
And if they truly wanted
their laundry done each day,
they’d put it in the bin
instead of where they lay.
So . . .
I’m goin’ back to bed
to close my sleepy eyes,
I’ll do it all tomorrow
when the sun begins to rise.
Crystal R. Cook

I have many pet peeves, there are just so many things one can find to be peeved about. Have no fear, I won’t be entertaining you with a list of them . . . not today.
This particular peeve involves books. I love books. I adore them, I collect them, and I cherish them. I respect each and every word between the covers, as well as those printed upon the covers themselves, especially the back covers. There, I can sometimes take a sneak peek at what lies within, it’s like licking the spoon before the cupcakes are ready.
While on vacation not long ago, I found myself in an amazing little book shop. It carried an alluring mixture of books, the old and the new and the in-between. I walked each aisle, running my fingers along the spines of each book, pulling from the shelf the ones that called out to me.
Excited to see what they wanted to say, I eagerly read what tale was to be told, but I was dismayed to find large stickers haphazardly covering the precious words on more than many of them, so I slowly peeled them back, searching for buried treasure.
While peeling back one of those unnecessarily large and ill placed stickers, a young woman approached me. She said, “Ma’am, could you please not peel off our stickers?” I politely informed her I was merely peeling them back enough to read the synopsis, she looked annoyed. “I’m sorry, but you can’t do that.”
Now I was annoyed, “How am I supposed to know if I want to buy the book if I can’t even read the back?” She looked at the book in my hand, “I’ve read that one, trust me, it’s good.” Trust her? For all I know, she is the one who slapped the awful stickers on those precious books! She feigned a smile while saying, “You’re just going to have to buy it and see if you like it.”
What is wrong with this child? “So it’s like Obamacare then?” was my response . . . She said, “Carry on.” and shuffled off.
It was actually quite a good book
Crystal R. Cook

Before I had children I thought I knew a bit about life, I was young but confident. It turned out I knew a little less than I thought I did, lucky for me, I’m a quick study. When I realized I’d been blessed with new life inside of me, everything changed. The things I thought were so important just the day before were all but forgotten as I thought about the magnitude of the journey I was about to embark upon. In that moment, I grew. In that moment, I changed. Over the years I’ve continued to learn, I’ve continued to grow and to change.
There comes a time in the life of every mother, when we suddenly realize we are mothers. You may think I’m merely stating the obvious, but there’s a special moment, a moment of beautiful clarity you cannot describe until you’ve experienced it. That moment when you look at your child and think in amazement, this is my child, I created this person. It’s an amazing moment that weaves itself into the fabric of our lives.
The bonds I’ve formed with my children began with the first lullaby I softly sang as they slumbered in my womb. I took to motherhood naturally and with joy, the lives I’d created were each an extension of my own, the best of all I had to give. I’ve always been in awe of my children, each unique and special in their own ways. They’ve provided me with a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment I never dreamed was possible. I cannot begin to imagine what my life would have been like if I’d chosen another path.
For me, this moment of sweet epiphany has occurred more than once. With each little life I’ve brought forth into this world, I’ve been given the gift of this divine revelation. You never know when it will come, you cannot plan for it and it takes you by surprise when you least expect it. When it happens, a feeling of warmth overcomes you, tears form in your eyes, and the meaning of life reveals itself.
I remember gazing at my firstborn son as he lay in slumbers sweet solitude and thinking, this must be what angels look like when they rest. I then realized the tiny angel I was so taken with was mine, a precious gift of God, and I was his mother. It was a monumental event in my life; I knew I would never be the same after that night.
I was as unassuming the second time I found myself experiencing the powerful emotions that accompany this precious moment. I never wondered if I could love another child as I had loved my first, I somehow knew I would and I was right, my second baby, another son, was as delightful and amazing as his big brother. As it did the first time, that moment hit me like a ton of bricks.
He was standing there, one hand gripping his walker for dear life, and the other mischievously reaching for his big brothers hair. The sun was shining brilliantly through the blinds, illuminating him in golden silhouette, soft shadows played alongside him, and there before me stood another angel, this time at play.
I began to cry just as he took hold of the soft hair beneath his fingertips, he giggled and his brother let out a holler. I couldn’t help but join him in the giggle, soon the injured party joined in our laughter. They may not have known why we were so happy, but I did, they were mine and I was the luckiest person on earth.
The years seemed to disappear right before my eyes; they rolled by as quickly as the day itself. I often looked at my sons with the solemn awareness that comes with acceptance and thanks. The Lord had been so good to me, I was blessed beyond measure. I did not know that He, in His infinite wisdom was a long way from finishing the job.
Another life, another miracle. I’d forgotten all about the joys of new motherhood by the time my third son came along. I was euphoric and treasured every moment, for I knew all too well how quickly they would pass. Life was again full of midnight feedings and diaper changes. I looked upon my three boys with thanks in my heart.
I was always on the go; three boys will keep you running from dusk till dawn. I stopped calling them precious angels and switched to the more appropriate term house apes. They were little treasures, each shining with a brilliant light of all their own. I think in the back of my mind somewhere I knew another moment was heading my way. As usual, it caught me off guard.
We’d had a tough day, the kids were ill and I was cranky. I was trying, unsuccessfully, to get the youngest of the trio to nap. I looked at him in exasperation when he began to cry and asked him to please, please just close his eyes; I was at my wit’s end for the day.
I must have been more animated than I’d meant, his tears turned to laughter and he said, “You funny hunny!” Within seconds his little eyes closed and I scooped him up in my arms. I realized this was it, this was the moment. His little hand stroked my hair and we fell asleep together. It was glorious.
Shortly after the birth of my third son, the Lord saw fit to bless me with a little girl. She was five years old the day she came to live with us. She’d always been a part of my life, a piece of my heart. I’d felt her little feet kicking the palm of my hand before her birth, and I was there when she took her first breath. I held her and changed her diapers and rocked her to sleep just as I’d done with my own.
She’d been born to my younger sister, her birth was a blessing, an unexpected blessing. Life sometimes has a way of unraveling the careful plans we’ve tried to weave. Letting her little girl go to let her grow and thrive would be one of the hardest decisions my sister would ever have to make, It was an adjustment for us all in so many ways.
I never would have imagined there would be a moment between this child and I, but there was. I awoke in the early hours of the morning, before the sun began to rise, to the soft kiss of innocence upon my cheek. I feigned sleep as I listened to a little voice whisper “I love you Mommy.”, and then the scurrying of little feet back down the hall.
She had unknowingly transformed into my daughter in that instant, I may not have given her life but she had become mine, a child of the heart, one of my own. That sweet kiss sealed our souls together; I walked into her room and whispered a prayer of thanks. I tucked her back into bed as my tears once again fell.
There comes the time in the life of every mother, when we suddenly realize we are mothers. It happens throughout the lives of our children, during different stages of their lives. Perhaps when they are helpless little babes, or maybe when they are trying little house apes, we’ll be blessed with this miraculous revelation.
It may happen again during a school recital or in the midst of teenage heartbreak. It may take us by surprise once again when we hold our grandchildren tightly in our arms. Whenever it happens, it will be an amazing blessing from the Lord above. It is these moments that will carry us when our children are grown, we will remember we were once mothers, angels that softly walked the earth . . .
Crystal R. Cook
Art by Paul Peel, 1888

Perception
is everything
Your reality
exists in
their delusion
Their fantasy
has become
your fact
Only the
ignorant
understand
what the
geniuses
have to say
Forget what
you’ve learned
since the world
began to change
You were taught
nothing but lies
by those who speak
the solemn truth
They spew
sugar coated
sickly sweet
aphorisms
even they
do not
believe
You may
speak out
but only
in silence
you are
not welcome
to be heard
They try to hide
the fools
they truly are
with transparent
attempts
to extrapolate
and deceive
Nothing
more than
breath wasted
time squandered
beneath the guise
of progress
Breeders of
destruction
suffocating
what could
and what should be
Mindless yes men
hide beneath
masks of honor
and truth
and trust
without intention
to change
Senseless sheep
promise freedom
as they herd
precious little lambs
to the wolves
for slaughter
Perception
is everything
Crystal R. Cook



I was sitting at my computer one morning, keys clicking and words pouring, when all of a sudden I get a pop-up. I hate those things so I always have them blocked, this one snuck right on by though, It said . . .
“Coffee does not equal food! I love you!”
First of all, coffee HAS to be a food group, they just forgot to give it its own spot on the pyramid. Secondly, I love you? That wasn’t creepy at all. Upon closer examination, I see my husband had found a way to set little alarm messages to pop up at certain times of the day. That was the first.
I tend to forget about the world around me when I sit down to write and I often forgo the essential snacks and meals I should partake of. I remember having two articles to write and without any conscious effort on my part, I think I managed to drink four cups of coffee, got all of my writing AND my proofreading done PLUS managed to squeeze in some time on Facebook. I did not however, eat anything but a few glucose tablets.
For some people, this may not be too terribly bad, but I happen to be diabetic, so my sugars are rather off when I have those days, it always gets my dear hubby a bit peeved. This time, he had dispensed with the lecture and simply set my computer to turn on me. The next day, there were more pop up messages for me.
“Put down the cup and eat something!”
Geesh, fine, I will. I grabbed a yogurt and sat back down, then something totally creepy happened. After a few bites and a few more sentences another message invaded the screen –
“One yogurt isn’t going to cut it! EAT!”
Does the man have cameras on me? Is there a P.I. outside a window or something? Am I really that predictable?
“Make some toast!”
FINE! Enough already, I have things to do! Toast in hand, crumbs on the keyboard and yogurt half empty I see –
“Put peanut butter on it!”
I kind of wanted to hurt him a little bit at this point so naturally, I made another cup of coffee. Next time he hacks my life center I’d better see some pop-ups saying things like, “I love you and I care for you and you are wonderful and I cherish and adore you blah, blah, blah.”
I suppose the messages he sent my way really meant the same thing. I still say coffee is a food though.
Crystal R. Cook
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