Don’t Cry Daddy

Don’t cry, daddy

Just makes it harder to let go

I’ll come back ’round real soon

be over before you know.


Yeah, we had some good times, daddy

Making the most of the time we have.

Even though I heard it a million times,

You know just how to make me laugh


I know you wish I didn’t have to leave,

and it’s a few months til Christmastime

Yes, California’s so far away,

but please, please, don’t cry.


It kills me to see you like this

So, I’ll board that plane again soon

That crowded little tin can,

That brings me back home to you


I’ll see you at the gate again

You’ll wear that big ole cowboy hat

I’ll smile and get that “daddy hug”

And you’ll help me with my bag


You’ll joke about how heavy it is,

And I’ll say “These things roll now, dad”

You’ll open the door for me and say,

“Well, Christy, it’s sure good to have you back.”


But the West Coast has the sunshine daddy

And you know how I love to be outside,

I’m living near the ocean,

I’d say I’m doin’ alright.


I have me a boy I love

And he really does love me

Maybe it’ll go somewhere this time

And even have a family


So, please, please don’t cry

Cause I’m doing alright…



Maybe you and momma can come for a visit for a while?

The sun would do you some good,

And it’s really not that far to fly.

Yeah, I know momma’s sick and scared to be that high.

But, please, please daddy




copyright 11/19/2010


Soul Cravings

This touches upon exactly what I’ve posted recently, but a little more eloquently maybe. 

I am not religious, I am in love.  I am not a Christian as much as I am in a relationship with Christ. Wanting to do the right thing not because of a set of rules, but because I want to make my partner as happy as I can. When you take the social stigma and strip the “religious” reputation from your views, you might possibly see how loving and beautiful connecting with your One true soul mate can be.

Dumbest things I’ve ever done: Part 1

I wanted to be Mary Lou Retton. Yes, back in best era EVER  – the ’80s… when your dreams could be reality. Yes, I too could own a life-size poster of Mary Lou with her Olympic size smile! If only I ate 25 boxes of Wheaties. And that is just what I did. I was the ONLY one to eat them too. While all the other kids were eating Fruit Loops and Sugar Smacks, Christy gagged down bowls and bowls of brown mush.  (I blame my ability to eat green drinks on this early training with health foods).  All for a dream. If I had a poster of her, she would be my muse, my inspiration, my guiding light. And I TOO, could be an Olympian.

Ok, enough of the build up. Althought that was pretty dumb for me to eat that many Wheaties.  SO…gymnastics.  It was my all-encompassing dream.  While day-dreaming outside on the swingset, I noticed how perfect the metal tube above me could suffice for an “uneven bar” like the one at my gymnastics gym.  I climbed up the triangular frame and grabbed hold of the bar. Seemed sturdy enough.  So I went through my practice session doing hip circles, round and round. No problem.  And then, the big trick.  Straight arms, toes to the bar to a handstand on top of the bar….although, I never made it that far. Because, my 11 year old body came falling backwards from about 8+ feet up with the swingset falling with me.  You see, the bar at the gym was tied into the floor.  The swingset was grounded in nothing but muddy Tennessee clay. 

I laid there, paralyzed, motionless, not able to breathe, looking up at the peaceful blue sky and leaves on the big oak tree. I couldn’t hear anything, just the sound of ringing in my ears, and my heart beating in my head. I wasn’t even sure if I was alive…I was at peace.  But then my auto-nomic pulmonary function took over and said “Not yet, sister, you’re not dead yet!” I got a little air in me, and started to cough. I looked up to see my sister and brother kneeling over me yelling “Christy!! Are you okay!?”  I couldn’t say whether I was or not. I still had very little air in my lungs. Little by little, I got a breath.

In the meantime, my brother ran to the house to get my parents’ help. And they got a huge piece of plywood to roll me on to. I don’t really remember anything after that except that I got enough air in my lungs to cry.  I don’t know if it was this that made my back crooked, but it was a year later I was complaining of back pain and I made a trip to the chiropractor.  That’s when I was first diagnosed with Scoliosis.  My dream of being an Olympic gymnast was not to be stifled by this little setback though. It was the fact that I grew.  I was soon too tall to be the “ideal” gymnast.   My dreams of flying through the air would have to be put on hold for a while.  Maybe that’s why I don’t have alot of fear rock climbing…I mean, I did live to tell about it.

Feeling like something is missing…

I’m yearning for something I can’t quite put my finger on.

There’s an empty space that needs filling.

Lack of inspiration?

What is inspiration? The word itself renders the visual of something filling up a space…like inhalation. Filling up a void with air – even though unseen to the human eye, it is there. And it gives life.  And energy. And fulfills.

Do I need air?  Yes. Without it, I die. It’s the first thing that determines life outside the womb… or brings closure to it.

Tonight I will be inspired, fulfilled, by simply breathing. 

Do you need inspiration? Maybe you’re forgetting to … sighhhhhhhh.  Breathe.