Writings by Lynn K. Scott

All posts in the Writings by Lynn K. Scott category

Take a Moment; Make a Memory

Published July 12, 2017 by lynn k scott

I found myself, on two separate occasions, talking about memories.  The first time I mentioned memories was on a Facebook link that was in response to a woman who said she was glad women had evolved and didn’t do things like grind their own meat or coffee, can food, prepare homemade meals, etc.

I was mildly offended by that.  While I was born in the early 70s, I take great pride in working a full time job, coming home to cook a homemade dinner (six to seven nights a week), and sitting at the table, with my family, to enjoy it.

I still hang clothes out on the line and I can a lot of different foods throughout the year. To me, I am making memories with my daughter.  Years from now, she will see a jar of preserves and think of my “armageddon shelf” that was always stocked with a variety of jams, soups, stock and vegetables.

Tonight, I was speaking with my Pastor and I used that exact example.  It got me to thinking, “that’s a blog post”.  All to often, especially in today’s society, it’s a “now” or “me” mindset.  While I am guilty of having the same thought pattern on occasion, I don’t seem to do it as often as some people.

It takes hours to make bread from scratch.  I enjoy mixing some flour, yeast and water and getting bread when all is said and done.  I teach my daughter how to measure, mix and make food from ingredients instead of a box.

She and I will go for a walk in a local park.  We might stop and watch the dogs play in the dog park.  We will hunt for pinecones for crafting projects.  Finding a bench and listening to the birds’ melodies as they communicate with each other.

So, I encourage you to spend quality time with those who matter most.  It doesn’t have to cost you anything.  Go to the beach, sit on the sand together and watch the waves crash against the shoreline.  Spend time in the kitchen making culinary creations.  Go to sporting events.  Rock your child in chair.  Go the library and cultivate a love for reading.

When I am finally called Home, I want my family to have memories that will make them smile when they think of me.  That they will feel the love I had for them, when I can no longer physically wrap my arms around them to offer comfort.  Now is the time to take a moment and make a memory.

Will You Remember Me?

Published June 27, 2017 by lynn k scott

Tomorrow will mark 10 years since my father passed away.  In the last two weeks, I have remembered the loss of my sister and mother.  I have lost three family members; all in the month of June.  All by the time I was 41 years old.

Mortality is in the forefront of my mind. It’s hard to ignore it.  All three of them had cancer, two were defeated by it and one passed, due to illness complications.  So, yes, wondering if I will meet an early demise, in June (no less), brings up lots of questions.

I didn’t have the best relationship with my father, but my sister’s and mother’s deaths hit me hard and their angelversaries elicit uncontrollable emotions.  There are specific things that I remember about each of them.

Remembering Dad:

  • Cook
  • Hot-tempered
  • Alcoholic
  • Recovering Alcoholic
  • Sports fan (Mets/Giants)
  • Friend to Chuck
  • Unable to show love to his family

Remembering Mom:

  • Faithful
  • Hard Worker
  • Loyal
  • Dedicated
  • Friend
  • Compassionate
  • Horrible Cook
  • Family-oriented

Remembering Sis:

  • Stubborn
  • Opinionated
  • Argumentative
  • Loyal friend
  • Loved the outdoors
  • Gardener
  • Dedicated mother
  • Straight-forward
  • Couldn’t cook rice (LOL to the family)

Gets me to thinking how, or even if, my children will remember me.  There’s history that hasn’t been discussed on this blog.  My youngest child will be the affected the most.  I can’t say the other children will be that upset or even care.  It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but I am not ignorant to my reality either.

What will my friends think of me?  Will I have a large attendance at my funeral? Probably not.  I can’t see that.  I’ve done a lot of personal reflection.  I am planning the details of my funeral.  I never want to have to put someone through that.

Death is inevitable.  I choose not to fear it.  I believe God has chosen my path.  It certainly hasn’t been an easy road to follow, but I will continue on it until I am called home.

 

Rant: Selling/Buying on Facebook

Published June 21, 2017 by lynn k scott

*Steps up on soapbox*

*Taps mic*

Hello…I’m going to say my peace about buying and selling on Facebook.  Feel free to agree (or not).  Having been an admin a sales boards, as well as a buyer or seller, this is how I see it….

SELLERS:

  • Provide the city your item(s) are in.
  • If you are willing to travel to meet buyers; say so.
  • Go in order of contact.  If someone by-passes the comments and PMs you (hoping to jump ahead of someone), let them know their place in line.
  • If listing more than one item for sale, either use the “Start Discussion” option to get out of listing a primary price OR list the most expensive item first and subsequent items/prices in the description.
  • STOP using screen shots from other groups.  It’s harder to see the item (and that’s just for starters as to why you do don’t do that).
  • READ the rules for each group.  They are there for a reason and you’re not so special that they don’t apply to you.
  • If you get permission to post something, add “Admin approved” to the beginning of your post.
  • Keep all appointments.  Do not cancel at the last minute.
  • Remove your post when it has been sold.

BUYERS:

  • Have the exact amount of money the item is being sold for.  No the seller doesn’t need to make change for you.
  • Keep your appointment and be on time! If you agree to buy something, then show up to buy it. Time is valuable; including the seller’s.
  • Be prepared to pick up the item. It’s not the seller’s responsibility to get the item to you.
  • If you respond to purchase something, be prepared to pick it up.  If you need to make arrangements for a later day/time, let them know that upfront; not after you should have been at the meeting location.
  • Ask ALL the questions about the item BEFORE agreeing to the purchase.  Do not ask them after you have agreed and set a time/location for pick up.

BOTH Buyers and Sellers need to be respectful of each other.  Times are hard.  Facebook allows free advertising and the ability to stretch our paychecks by getting rid of items we no longer need and/or want.

*Says ‘Thank You’, nods and steps off soapbox.*

LME Weddings

Published June 21, 2017 by lynn k scott

I’ve gone and done it.  I’ve started my own wedding planning business.  I attempted this several years ago, but now the timing is right.

LME Weddings & Events has taken shape and I’m in the process of building my business. At the moment, I’m still working my “day job”, but the goal is to have a profitable business within the next three years.

Yes, I’m tired of working for someone else.  It’s not even that as much as it is, while I’m good at what I do, I’m not happy doing it.  Work is currently and ends to a means.  Why not be in business and see happiness in yourself as well as your clients?  Right?

So, that’s what I did.

LME Weddings is still a work in progress; as far as the website goes.  I also have a Facebook presence.  Advertising is advertising and the more I get the word out, the sooner my business will grow.

With returning to homeschooling next year, I want to be home with my daughter.  While I may have to work for someone else during her junior high years, the plan is to be home while she completes high school.  I’m excited to finally see a dream, that’s been years in the making, taking shape and having life breathed into it.

If you’re in the Solano, Yolo or Sacramento areas, let me know how I can help you with you wedding/event planning details!

God in my life

Published June 4, 2017 by lynn k scott

Disclaimer:  This blog post will probably be lengthy, however, I feel it’s time to share how I’ve seen God in my life.

I wasn’t born into a wealthy family.  My father only had an eighth grade education and my mother only went as far as to graduate high school.  I was the oldest of three daughters and often had to help raise my younger sisters, while my mother worked two jobs and my father worked what jobs he could.  My dad was also an active alcoholic during my childhood.  He chose to get help when my mother kicked him out.  Then he sobered up and stayed that way. However, my sisters and I spent many nights playing in the a church room, while my mom attended Al-Anon.  We were pretty shielded about why she attended. I will say through all our hard times, my parents never accepted government assistance, although looking back, we more than qualified; at times.

My mother was the foundation of our family.  She made sure my sisters and I went to church on a regular basis.  Back then, it was what was required.  We didn’t always go willingly, but we went.  We grew up in the United Methodist Church where we attended Sunday school, were confirmed in the faith, joined the youth groups and choir.  It was the only church I ever knew and it was the church I set the standard for my future adventures in faith.

Was I devout?  Not, in the least.  I believed in God, but rarely said grace before meals, prayed or reached out to anyone in my church.  I was missing a connection.

I married at just 18-years old.  I had no support, but my family went through the motions of my marriage anyway.  Needless to say, they were right, along with everyone else, and my marriage was doomed to fail.  One thing I did take seriously, was my marriage vows; esp., ’til death do you part’.  Little did I know, that vow almost cost me my life.

That quick foreshadowing was meant to segway into how my (now) ex-husband was extremely abusive.  There were two separate times he actually tried to kill me.  In the six and a half years we were together, we had four children.  I was a typical abused wife, caught up in the cycle of violence.

I believed if I had dinner ready on time, I wouldn’t have gotten yelled at.  If I wasn’t so tired, from being pregnant, the house would be cleaner and I wouldn’t have gotten hit.  I believed him when he said he was sorry.  “It won’t happen again.”  If there were ever famous last words, those were it.

We attempted counseling.  It was couples counseling, in addition to individual sessions. When your therapist tells you privately, “have a bag packed and be ready to leave at a moment’s notice”.  Go ahead; it’s ok to read into how serious the danger level was.

Yet, I had two small children and I had no place to go.  No one knew of the abuse; esp. not my family. My mom didn’t even find out until I was pregnant with my fourth child and we woke up to our house on fire.  We ended up staying with my parents again; which my ex-husband made for a less than amicable time.

I had been journaling about the abuse and hid the notebook under my mattress.  When we moved out, I forgot about it.  Months later, my mother found it, read it, and called me crying asking if I was being abused.  I broke down and admitted everything.

I had attempted leaving before, but my ex-husband convinced me to come back; esp. after he cleaned out our bank account and left me financially broke.  I had little choice (or so I thought).

I will spare the rest of the details I can remember. I used to cry myself to sleep asking God, “what did I do to deserve this”?  The abuse only escalated.  It got to the point, I ended up having to leave my children behind, in order to survive.  My youngest son was only six months’ old.

I left and ended up staying with a guy I barely knew.  I had no job because my ex-husband told the restaurant I worked at that I abandoned my children and they felt the need to tell me to go home and be a better wife and mother.  Wow!  I was floored.  I felt like enough of a failure without my boss and coworkers passing judgement on me.

One day, when hopelessness was overwhelming, I made the decision to just end it all.  I went and bought a bottle of sleeping pills.  It was the easiest way; just go to sleep.  Little did I know God had other plans for me.

I carried out my plan.  I didn’t leave a note.  Got a large glass of water and began swallowing three pills, at a time, until the bottle was empty.  I laid down on the floor, with a pillow and blanket, and planned to go to sleep forever.

I fell asleep and then felt convulsions.  It was like I was having a nightmare and I couldn’t wake up from it.  I heard in my mind, “you’re not going to die today.”  I continued to have convulsions, as if a doctor had paddles to my chest and was yelling, “CLEAR!”  I have no idea how much time passed.  It was dark outside, I woke up, still alone and thought, “I can’t even kill myself right”.  However, after that ordeal, I did believe I wasn’t supposed to die that day and never attempted to take my life again.

Long story short, I ended moving to California.  The state I grew up in had horrible domestic violence laws.  They didn’t have anti-stalking laws.  I had no protection.  Once my ex learned of my change in states, he chose to give the children to my mother and followed me.  I lived several years looking over my shoulder.  I even arranged for someone else to check my post office box, in case he would be waiting for me one day.

Skip ahead years later, and I remarried.  My children were still with my mother.  I would call and speak to the kids, but they wanted me home and it wasn’t possible.  Anger and resentment festered from them.  I was losing my children and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  I admit it.  I was a bad mom.  I wasn’t strong enough to stand up for myself and it cost me my children.

I did have one more child.  My second husband had no children and I had to prove to myself I wasn’t a horrible mother.  With the abuse factor removed, I didn’t suffer the severe depression I had with my other children.  I wasn’t hospitalized for postpartum depression, as I had been twice in the past.

My mother and I chose not to tell the children about their half-sister.  They resented me so much already.  I knew them thinking I just left to start another family would be first on their mind.  I knew this because that is what their father had told them.  He eventually left California and returned to my home state to get custody of our children.

Meanwhile, when my youngest was 5-months’ old, I started looking for a church to go back to.  I was missing something.  I was so alone.  I found a United Methodist Church, close to home.  I took my little one with me and walked into Wayside UMC for the first time.  I figured, if it wasn’t for me, I could use the baby as the reason I had to leave.

We stayed and I eventually became a member of the church.  Even though the church reminded me of the church I grew up in, I still hadn’t made any close connections.  I went through the motions, but it wasn’t 100% what I was looking for.

In June 2007, my father, whom I’ve always had a strained relationship with, was diagnosed with Stage-4, stomach cancer.  He was given three to six weeks to live.  I called to speak with him while he was in the hospital.  He had forgotten he had an older daughter; he thought I was my sister playing a joke on him.  After five agonizing minutes, he finally remembered who I was.  We spoke til he got tired.  It was the last time I was speak with him.  He died exactly three weeks from diagnosis.

A few years later, I reconnected with my sister.  A sister that I didn’t speak to for 10 years.  Yet, after all the abuse and loss I had already experienced (which I glossed over quite a bit), my 37-year old sister was diagnosed with Stage-4 breast cancer. Diagnosis: less than a year.  My mother and I prayed, but we were also facing reality that her breast cancer was aggressive and odds of recovery were slim to none.

After her passing in June of 2012, I was lost.  I had survivor’s guilt.  I stopped going to church.  No one called to check up on me.  I didn’t feel missed or cared for.  I flew home to bury my sister, flew back to California and had to pretend my life was fine.

Let’s add insult to injury and have my youngest sister call me one morning while I was at work.  Seems my mother was rushed to the hospital with food poisoning.  After some testing, it was determined it wasn’t food poisoning.  She had a bowel blockage and required emergency surgery.  My mother never made it out of surgery as she died on the operating table because she didn’t have a small blockage; all of her intestines were dead. She couldn’t be saved. My mother passed away one year and 13 days after I buried my sister.

To say I was angry with God was an understatement.  Nothing made sense.  I was being punished and I didn’t know how much more I could take.  My older children, except for my first born, didn’t want anything to do with me.  If I didn’t have my youngest at home, I don’t know what drastic steps I would have taken.

I became guardian to my two youngest nieces.  They were my sister’s children, whom my mother was raising.  Life was turned around.  There was a huge struggle to bring two children to California.  Resources weren’t there, but I felt this is what I had to do. Raising two more children, trying to mourn my sister and mother and a family who had a huge adjustment factor, was more than I could handle.

I am thankful for my friends on Facebook.  Ironically, they became my only support system.  Some were friends I knew personally; others were strangers.  They were the only beacon of light, during those dark days.

I would attend church sporadically.  Everyone was nice, but no one really tried to know me other than the polite exchanges we had before service. There was still a disconnect. My nieces eventually returned to my home state; without my consent.  That’s another story, for another time.  With the way the events played out with my nieces, it ended my relationship with my youngest sister; my last relative in my nuclear family.

I began to look for other churches to attend.  I tried to stay within the United Methodist community.  It was all I had ever known.  I also tried some non-denominational churches and even went back to Wayside a few times.  I joined another local church; but that lasted about a year.  It wasn’t the right fit.  Nothing was right.  Nothing made sense.  I gave up.

A couple months ago, I began another search for a church to call home.  I had exhausted all the options within the local United Methodist organization.  I Googled some local churches and found one within a couple miles of my home.

What caught my attention was they spoke of relationships and not religion.  They also offered hot coffee.  Ok, was it wrong, I was drawn in by coffee?  I figured, I could use a free cup of coffee, listen to the message and just leave if it was like all the rest.

I was pleasantly surprised.  I’m used to a “welcoming” committee, but it seemed everyone who first saw me, made an effort to say hello.  After the service, I several people came up to me and wanted to get to know me.  It wasn’t what I expected.

I returned week after week.  I even joined a weekly Bible study group.  While I don’t share much at church or within the study group, it’s been nothing but a positive experience.

With this June being the fifth angelversary of my sister’s passing and the fourth angelversary of mother’s passing, I don’t feel as alone this year as I have in previous years.  I can attribute that to attending Harvest Community Church – Fairfield.

Again, I left a lot of details out of the struggles of my first marriage, the abuse, the nightmare of family court and the memory loss from the abuse.  However, I believe there is a purpose for all of this.  While I don’t know God’s plan for my life, I trust in Him.

 

 

A Place to call “Home”

Published April 7, 2017 by lynn k scott

About a month ago, I was searching for local churches.  With the cost of gas, driving back and forth to our old church isn’t really feasible.  While I adore the pastor there, I still don’t feel like I did when I attended the church I grew up.  Mind you, I’ve been attending this particular church on and off for 11 years.  I started attending when my daughter was only five months’ old.

The problem I was encountering, was I wanted to stay within the United Methodist community, yet I had been to all the surrounding churches, heck even joined one, and they just aren’t for me.  What was I to do.  I feel a calling to go back to church regularly.

Facebook, with its, “suggestions”, based off my Google search, showed me nearby churches.  There was one, very close to my home, awesome reviews.  It promised to have coffee (don’t judge me on my caffeine neediness), fellowship and to feel welcome.

Sounds like a lot of churches, but I thought, heck, it’s just me.  I can walk into church, grab some coffee, and listen for a bit, right?

Well, I did just that.  However, I was greeted by several people.  Lord help me and my horrible ability to remember names.  I’m just awful about that.  Yet, they showed me to the coffee, SCORE, introduced several people to me, and were genuine.

It sounds silly, but that’s what I needed.  Not just pleasantries, but a sincere welcoming, caring about you being there.

My other concern was a traditional service.  This was a non-denominational church and I’ve had some experiences with them and had been less than impressed.  I’ve spent over 40 years singing hymns in church.  Contemporary elements were for special services, normally by the children.  Yet, the music they play is what my daughter is being exposed to at her private, Christian school.  Another comfort level met.  I know some of these songs.  I hear some on the radio too!

Just to interject, I’m becoming a huge fan contemporary Christian music.  I can say, Chris Tomlin, is my favorite singers.  His songs speak to me.  My current “addiction” song that he sings is, “Amazing Grace:  My Chains Are Gone“.  It combines one of my favorite hymns and a contemporary twist.

Last Sunday, my daughter joined me for service.  She actually joined the kids’ group during the service; virtually unheard of.  You’d think she was a fly and I the paper.  She had a wonderful time.  I stayed with the adults, of course, and heard the Message (aka, Sermon).  It’s relayed in such a way that it follows scripture but can be applied to modern times.

I now look forward to attending service every Sunday.  I am making local friends and I feel like a truly belong.  It’s almost silly.  At my old church, I typically the only one with visible tattoos.  I felt I needed to keep them covered as much as possible.  My new church, there are several people with arm tattoos and it’s just another level of welcome; in my eyes.

I am blessed to have found Harvest Community Church at this time in my life.  I believe it’s where I am meant to be.

All in the View

Published April 7, 2017 by lynn k scott

Daniel Angeles:  an artist, my (writing) muse, my friend.

This particular piece will highlight some of his work as it pertains to my life.  Dan has an uncanny talent for painting what people are feeling.  His vision, brought to life with strokes of a paint brush and water colors that in turn, revive memories, elicit emotions and can put feelings into perspective.  I know my world wouldn’t be as bright or beautiful without Dan in it.

So the journey with paintings begins…

all better bearThe “It Will Get Better Bear”.  While I knew Dan prior to his drawing this piece for my sister, Kathi, after her breast cancer diagnosis, I never fathomed it would become her memorial tattoo or the face of the Kathi Cares Program.  This simple teddy bear, meant more than words could adequately express to Kathi, my mom and to me.  Again, THANK YOU, Dan!

I can’t speak to Dan’s motivation as to how his thoughts transcend the mental plane and make their way to canvas, but he creates such works that one can’t help but take a “Trip Down Memory Lane.  Trip Down Memory LaneLooking at his work, you see your past, the memories become vivid. Painful or joyful, the feelings return as the mind wanders to a place in time that is just for you.

Sometimes you have to do what you have to do to get by.  I know as I have grown older, moved across the country, remarried, buried my father,  sister and mother, I am constantly evolving.  Sprouting New BeginningsIt seems I am always “Sprouting New Beginnings”.   When I feel my life is turning upside down, when I am having a bad day, perhaps even slumped down on the hall closet floor, having a good cry, it’s not long before I feel the bloom of life opening the a new chapter on my life.

My mom installed a love a reading in her children. Artwork depicting books in different facets speaks volumes to me.  There are times that I am literally Turning the Page“Turning The Page” in my personal book of life.  I have seen the personal growth in myself over the last several years.  Life sometimes has a way of making you experience what you never contemplated.  I can’t say I have had the best reactions to what I have endured.  Weather the StormI can say I have grown and I do my best to see the positives in situations now.  It’s all about how you “Weather the  Storm”.  This one made me smile in particular.  I swear, it’s lucky I’m a verbal alcoholic, because if I drank every time I said I would, my liver would not be happy with me.  But a few times, yes, a glass of wine has helped me through some rough times.  Ok, it took the edge off til I was ready to deal with whatever it was.

I know that there is still much more to experience.  I know my trials are not over.  There will be more to deal with.

Counting the DaysI am “Counting the Days” until I am able to finally meet the man who has brought me endless smiles and plenty of (happy) tears.  Who made my sister feel special and loved with the drawing of bear.  “The Burning Question” will be what will I ask Dan to paint for my 50th birthday.  I will be treating myself to my own very own Dan Angeles painting. Actually, I have already decided on a topic.  It will be up to Dan if he is able to display my request in watercolor:  “The Impact of Friendship“.

“Underneath It All”, I cannot imagine my life without Dan.  I’ve said it before, but my life wouldn’t be complete without his amazing artwork, his support and his thoughtful words.  My heart will forever harbor a special place for such a caring soul.

Underneath it all

XP NUGGETS

Your daily source of positivity, motivation and inspiration: Available for you in a charming consumable nugget!

Fact Based Truth

Truth based on facts

Coach Daddy

It's about fatherhood, futbol, and food.

The Recipe Hunter

Cook and Enjoy

The Purple Almond

Where food is medicine.

Wedbites

"The Most Important Part of the Most Important Day of Your Life"

Mommy Usage

Perfectly Imperfect. Always Working Toward Better.

But I Smile Anyway...

Musings and memories, words and wisdom... of a working family woman

A Thomas Point of View

My high horse journalistic point of view

Agatha Chocolats

Mystery Writer & Chocolate Enthusiast

Jo Robin Blog

2am Conversations ● College ● Unqualified Advice on Adulting ● Awkward Dates ● Catholicism

518-songofmypeople

A town everyone hates, yet no one leaves...