The Christmas Present

By Janeal Mulaney





Little Johnny sat at his desk, with pen in hand. The letter he had been writing to Santa had started out well enough, but then he had stopped, while thinking about the little girl that had been in his class for the last three years. Eight weeks ago, her parents had lost their home, after they had lost their jobs the summer before. The old car plant where they both had been employed; had burned down, and instead of rebuilding, the owners of the company had decided to lock the doors. Her parents had found other jobs, and even coexisted for a few months, but their debts were far larger then the money they were bringing home now. Johnny could still visualize the yard sales and the auction that had ended all hope of them keeping their home.

Johnny no longer saw the girl at school for she had quit coming soon after the auction. He hadn’t really paid much attention to her when she had went, until he’d seen her the day of the auction, where she sat in the corner pretending to read her book. He had watched her then, as the tears streamed down her face. The little girl had been at school the next day, even the day after that. In fact she attended for two more weeks, but no longer were her clothes ironed and her hair clean and shining. Her hair was now dull and tangled; her clothes were wrinkled. The girls that had been her friends once, now stayed to themselves whispering, and giggling with sly secret smiles that passed her way.

Johnny’s pen touched the paper once again; he finished one page then began another. He ended the letter to Santa, folded it and placed it gently in the envelope that his mother had given him for his special letter. After getting ready for bed and bushing his teeth, he took his letter and placed it on the mantel for his mom to mail the next day. Johnny kissed his mom and dad goodnight then went to say his nightly prayer. He added one thing after God bless my mom and dad and me. The words slipping through his lips before he even realized what he’d said. “And Lord please be with the Andersons and bless their family where ever they may be. Amen.”

As he finished his prayers, his parents were in the living room opening up the letter to see what their little boy would cherish most this Christmas season. The letter started off like every year before.

Dear Santa,

What I want the most this year is a Play station. After reading the next sentence his parents eyed the paper in shock. Santa, please forget about the Play station. I changed my mind, and instead would like to talk to you about a family that needs a whole lot more. His parents looked up at each other, and then once more continued to read. I’ll gladly give up all my toys if you can manage some extra chores. There is this little girl her name is Chelsea Anderson. Chelsea once went to school with me. Only she can’t anymore, her family lost their home. Now we don’t see her like before. I know her family is homeless and they can’t afford a car, or even an address for you to take her presents to. So instead of giving toys to me, just let Chelsea’s parents find a home this Christmas Eve.

This short story will continue next week, I hope you have enjoyed the first part. Sincerely Janeal

Alabama - Christmas in Dixie

Sanity or Insane

What is Sanity?

By Janeal Mulaney


I have asked this question many times over my lifetime, I still do not know the answer. I would tell my children they were driving me crazy. My oldest son would explain that was their job, and if I was not insane by the time they turned eighteen they hadn’t done a good job. The day he turned eighteen, I asked him whether he had done a good job or not. He said not, but then again how can you drive someone crazy when they had reached that destination a decade before he born.

I agreed with him, to everyone out there who has gone through life, avoiding the norm, you maybe considered insane by countless people.

I was one of those people if it was the normal thing to do I did the opposite, while girls were primping to look their best and fit in, I was primping to look totally different. One of my best friends told me I looked like a two-cent hooker, one day. I told her when she stopped raiding my grandmother’s closet I would worry about what she thought. In high school a two-cent hooker would not have been caught dead in the clothes I wore. For I never dressed up, nor did I own a dress. I did however own a pair of waffle stompers or as they are called now (hiking boots), if I had to borrow a dress to wear those were on my feet. My blue jeans were full of holes with patches on some, while others were left to spread open even farther.

My jeans were skin tight, and as I look back I’m sure my style of dress was copied to bring forth for this generation. Teens now pay seventy or eighty bucks for the clothes I wore in the seventies. My patches turned into decals and my embroidery turned into machine stitching. No one actually wears their jeans long enough to make true holes in them on their own, so the factories now make the holes for them. I started putting the names on the butt of my own jeans long before it was considered juicy to wear words across someone’s pants. I would embroidery my name or the name of my latest boyfriend in a heart on one of the pockets of my jeans or just above the seam of my Dittos. For those of you who do not remember or know what Dittos were, they were the name of the first pocket less jeans, they were sold through J. C. Penny’s and they had a moon shaped seam across the butt that ran down both legs of the jeans. My name had six letters in it so I would embroidery the first three up and around one hip and the other three letters going back down the other side.

So was this insanity, or just not old enough to know what a patent was? I cut off tee shirts and wore short jackets before they were popular. My friends thought I was crazy or worse. I smiled all the time, laughed over everything. Did outlandish pranks and said ridicules things that made my friends die from laughing. I never took a second of life seriously. To this day my high school friends and I stay on the phone and I always come up with some story or say something that starts us both cracking up with laughter. Insanity, is a matter of opinion what is insane to some, others call fun. Why be normal when you can be unique?

Can you say I Love You too Much

I Love You

By Janeal Mulany

Simple three little words. Right or not. Can you say them too often to the ones you love? No, because actions don’t always speak louder then words. There are times, when for whatever the reason you have to be hard on a child, a parent, or yes even a spouse. Sometimes it is called hard love, other times it is called punishment. When you do have to punish or actually demonstrate to a love one, hard love. Your actions may not express the love and concern you feel for them. So using those three little simple words can signify that you have their best interest at heart.

For example when your baby starts crawling or walking they don’t know an electric cord plugged into a wall can be hazardous, so you tell them no don’t touch, three, five, seven, ten times, but they still keep going after the wire. So you need to do something further to let them know there is consequences to playing with the wire and the wall socket. You slap their hand lightly, but hard enough for them to know they don’t touch. You need to let them know that even though you punished them you still love them. You say those three magic little words then give them a hug. Now have you said those three words too frequently?

No, you need to let the people you love now that your love for them is never to be questioned, because no matter what they do you will always love them. I have a three-year-old granddaughter; She yells out grandma, I ask her, what baby? She says, I Love You. I tell her I Love You too sweetheart. This happens anywhere from one to fifty times a day. Are we saying I Love You too repeatedly? I don’t think so. When you leave the house do you tell your family you love them, before you walk out the door? Do you tell them I love you just before you hang up the phone? What if something happened to you or them, and that had been your last chance to tell them how you felt about them? Would you still think that you told them I Love You too frequently?

The only time I think you can use those three little words too often is when you don’t mean them, or you use them as a tool for control over a loved one or to cover up abuse one way or the other. In all those occurrences it is not true love they speak of. For you don’t abuse the ones you love, or try to control them.

If you truly love someone, then no you cannot use those words to repeatedly.

Winter Memories

 I Love Winter

By Janeal Mulaney

The reason I love winter, is as a child we would come together more as a family. During spring, summer, and fall I would spend long hours outside doing what most children do, playing either by myself or with my friends.

During late fall and winter months my family would be force to come into the house sooner and more often, not that there weren’t just as many fun things to do in the house all year around, but most of my family loved the great out doors. So if we could be outside we would be.

As a child, my parents and grandparents would play games, put puzzles together, and read from the bible, while we would all sat around our big warm fireplace with a cozy fire crackling the wooden logs. We would build snowmen, and then come inside for hot chocolate, and homemade cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven.

Our families would gather at our home for Thanksgivings, and Christmases. My dad and uncles would move all the living room furniture to the side so sleeping bags could be brought in from our camper, and we would have wall-to-wall cousins as well as ourselves lined up throughout our living room. Our kitchen would be over flowing with cooks, making all kinds of food, and wonderful desserts for the holiday meals.

All of the adults would chat and talk about their childhood out on the prairie, with my grandparents chiming in from time to time to relate their own stories from their own childhood, about crossing the states in a covered wagon, with oxen instead of horses, or how they would have to go to the outhouse in the middle of the night with three feet of snow blocking the doors. They would tell about the dust bowl days, and teaching school to their own children because they would be unable to get the kids to the closest school for weeks at a time because of freezing temperatures.

It is truly amazing how far the world has come in just a little over one hundred years. My grandparents were born in eighteen-eighties and nineties, just years after the civil war. As a young man my grandfather fought in World War I, I had three uncles that fought in World War II. All these were stories I heard about during the winter months. They lived in the days of the covered wagons, automobiles, airplanes, jets, and watched the first rocket land on the moon. They lived through hauling water out of a creek, and wells, to plumbing water throughout their homes. They live through no lights to television; my grandma even saw the first wave of the computer and electronic games. The games she declared were pure evil, because you didn’t need anyone else with you to play them. (Games should be made to bring families together not separate them.)

So much had changed during their lifetime, and I was in our kitchen listening to every word. To me winter was a time of learning not just in school, but also from the history my family had lived through.

Grandma did not just watch ‘Little House on the Prairie’ or ‘The Waltons’, but she had actually lived through those shows. Through the winter months while watching those shows on television, grandma would pipe in with, that little house looks better then the old ‘soddy’ (sod home) we lived in while on the prairie. That car look like the first one Ed bought in nineteen-eighteen just before Evelyn was born?

Now my grandparents are gone, as well as my mom, who just passed last month, but memories of winters spent will live on in my mind to tell my children and grandchildren all the stories they had to share, with me as a child. I hope my home will be filled with as much love, memories and family as we use to have in my parents home when I was just a kid. These are the reasons I love winter.

The snow seemed whiter, the wind less cold, and our home seemed warmer with the stories they told.

My beloved Mom

Memories of Mom

My mom Esther was a woman filled with love for God, and her family and friends. There are so many good memories, of my mom and our family it is hard to choose just a few. There were numerous camping trips, and family vacations. All filled with laughter and fun.
I think I could write at least three books, if not more of the way she touched so many of our lives. Unfortunately I can only share a very few right now.
This is the first memory I would like to share with you. I’m glad we did not always have a seat belt law our block would have never made it to school if there had been one in the early seventies. We were having major cold spells and freezing temperatures. My mom and dad would go out to start the vehicles so they would warm up before taking us to school. The car wouldn’t even turn over so mom would tell dad, “can you see if old blue will start. We had an old fifty-nine ford pickup one setter and low and behold it would start when all other cars would fail to do so. I remember all the neighbor kids and my mom, with my sister and I, we would all pile in together to ride the four blocks to school. There would be kids on top of kids with a tiny spot for mom to squeeze in under the wheel thank God the standard shift was on the steering console or she wouldn’t have been able to haul anywhere from five to twelve kids to school.
I remember the rides on our horses with my mom riding on Star, and dad and us kids riding along beside her on our other horses. Mom and dad taught us girls to love and respect all animals, except for maybe snakes and spiders.
One day my mom went out to the garage to get a screw out of my dad’s tool drawers and she found this big old black spider in a drawer, she called my dad home from work to kill it and told us kids not to go into the garage. Dad came home, to kill the spider, he walked into the garage and seconds later he walked back out with this huge spider in the palm of his hand, and said. Janeal I think this belongs to you! I loved that spider, and use to terrorize Jan with it, so she had hidden it a few months before and forgotten it.
One night after us kids were in bed, a friend of my parents’ Nadine Garbez called mom and asked her if she and dad could come over to J and N shoes, she had a bat upstairs and Joe was out of town. So mom got us kids up and dressed and we all went to help Nadine get the bat captured so she could finish her paperwork and open the store the next morning.
Mom took part in the PTA with Dorsalie Jones and a hundred other parents. So many memories there are too many to tell. She helped with Chili cook offs, cakewalks, and was always active in town affairs, working right along side so many others. My mom was very out going, she would fight for what she believed in, and stand up for what she believed I don’t ever remember her backing down.
In eighth grade I quit school because a teacher was treating me unfair. I walked home and told mom that I wasn’t going back. If my daddy only had an eight-grade education it was good enough for me. Oh no it isn’t she said. And drove me right back to school. We went to my locker, grabbed my math book and walked down to the library where Mrs. Gallagher’s room was, where the rest of the afternoon Mrs. Gallagher and her worked over all my math problems to determine whether my answers that had been checked wrong were actually wrong or right. After the bell rang she headed for the principal’s office and told him to send for my math teacher. When he showed up my mother politely inform the man and principal what she actually thought of him and his teaching certificate and where he could put that certificate. The next day I was switched to a new class, with a good teacher and received the (B) I actually deserved.
So many memories so little time to tell them, so I will finish up with my favorite and one she loved to tell. It is about a poem I wrote just after my ex-husband and I split up.  Money was truly non-existent and Christmas was just weeks away. Of course my children were like all others and wanted this and that as well as the other new toy on the market. I had talked to my mother, about my worries and she told me about all the times while she had been growing up that money had never been enough to buy all they had wanted, so she had sugested I do what they did way back when, and make gifts for everyone. That night I made up this poem after watching one of my favorite Christmas movies.

The Empty Christmas Stocking


By Janeal Mulaney

I’ve noticed every Christmas, presents get more expensive

Everyone wants more and more.

Are we forgetting what Christmas is all about?

On the twenty-fifth day of December, we celebrate our Savior birth,

Jesus Christ was born.

Do we remember that it’s His birthday we celebrate?

Do we put a gift for Him beneath our Christmas tree?

Do we hang a stocking for Him for the entire world to see?

You might wonder what we’d give him even if we did.

Well, here are a few ideas to fill His stocking with.

There kindness toward each other, and the rest of our fellowman.

Peace on earth, and joy throughout our land.

We could also reach for understanding and forgiveness,

For the people we feel have done us wrong.

Compassion and caring we should give throughout each year.

Is his stocking getting full, or do we still have room for a whole lot more.

We could put in gentleness and tenderness, for they should go hand in hand.

Let’s not forget the love he gives us each and everyday

I still feel LOVE is the most important gift of all.

So, hang the empty stockings on the mantelpiece.

But don’t forget the most important one.

The empty stocking you hang for Jesus Christ.

Don’t forget all the items that make our Christmas bright.

Our Love for the Heavenly Father and our fellow man

For each time we show our love for another.

We show our love also for our savior

Let’s add all the other feelings that God gives each of us everyday.

Not just once a year.

We all love you mom and you will be missed.

Pillow Fights

Pillow Fights

By Janeal Mulaney

It was just days after my children and I moved out of my ex-husband house, the movers were do to unload our beds and other furniture on Monday, but until then my children and I had slept on the floor of our new apartment for the last two nights. My children and I had a lot of emotional baggage weighing us down with all the hurt and differences that were accruing in our lives. My oldest and youngest had been at each other’s throats all day. My oldest son decided to be the mediator as usual, but it hadn’t been working so as we got ready for bed the other two were still fighting.

The first blow came and Mitch hit both his sister and brother with one swing of the pillow. Before long we were all whacking each other with my old feathered pillows. We ended up tearing two of them apart and the feathers were flying everywhere, we were laughing so hard our sides were hurting, but we keep letting off steam and stress as we’d pick up another pillow and start up where a torn one left off. The pillow fight went on and on, the kids were laughing so hard they couldn’t even hit each other anymore. They were missing more then they were hitting someone, but the exercise was therapeutic for four people that had their whole world turned upside down in the space or one afternoon.

I was never so thankful that I had bought pillows every chance I got. We had gone through seven feathered pillows that night throughout our pillow fight. The stress was gone, but the mess was left to clean up before we could go to bed that night. The kids shook out all the bedding and I used the vacuum to suck up all the feathers from the carpet.

As the kids chatted back and forth about who got the best of whom, I vacuumed up all the feathers from the broken pillows. Then made out our temporary beds again. After laying down the kids talked to me about all the things that had been going on inside their minds with the separation, and us moving out of our family home. I tried to answer all their questions truthfully without putting all the blame on their dad. I tried to make them understand how couples some times grow apart, and how dreams can and do change throughout the years, and how some people want one thing and then for what ever reason those feelings aren’t there anymore. I’m sure if I talked to some professional about how we worked through our anger and hurt over the separation of our family, I would be told that I had handled it all wrong. I don’t know what the right way is, all I know is my kids and I bonded that night. That night they learned they had the freedom to ask questions, and talk to me about how they felt about any subject they wanted or needed to talk about.

We had many pillow fights after that, and I learned to buy some foam pillows just for the pillow fights, but that was truly one of my favorite pillow fights.

Artist and Writer

Get to know Janeal through her paintings and writings. Mother of three plus two special children that never gave her labor pains. Grandmother of four beautiful grandchildren who are her pride and joy. She learned how to Love, fight, and enjoy life through her parents. Seeing the world through her eyes is sometimes twisted, other times neon, but always intertaining.

in reference to: Facebook | Janeal Mulaney (view on Google Sidewiki)

Goals and Home

This past month has been hectic, with Tara starting college and the kids going to school I thought I would be able to stay up with the goals I had set for myself but due to unforseen changes in life, I'm sorry to say I'm running a tadbit behind my goals. I'm hoping next month all will be alittle calmer and I'll be able to make my goals plus. For all my readers out there I'm sorry I haven't had anything new for you this month, please continue to return to my blogs and see what gets posted soon. I have quite a few articles in the works and hopefully they will be up and running in time for next month. Thanks Janeal.

A Cherokee Legend

The Great Bear Story

A legend from the Cherokee people about Autumn
rewriten in my own words.
 by Janeal Mulany
Even though my great grandmother was full Cherokee, I have never learned the stories or the legends of the People. She had moved from her reservation when she married my great grandfather, and as far as I know she never really talked about her Cherokee heritage. I’m interested in my entire heritage, and wanted to check out the story and the song of the bear. I will still have to shorten the story for my article I found it is very interesting so please look it up on you own so you can read the entire story it’s well worth the time.
There were four brothers who were known to be the best hunters throughout the tribe. For once they started tracking their quarry they never stopped until the prey was caught. When the cold nights had returned, one day an urgent message arrived at the village of the four hunters. A great bear larger and more powerful than any others had appeared, the people whose hunting grounds the monster bear had invaded were afraid. No longer were their children allowed to play in the woods, and they had all started staying in the long houses with warriors guarding the entrances at night.
Even with extra security in the morning they would find more huge tracks within the midst of the village and each night it was apparent the bear was getting bolder.
The next morning after gathering supplies, their small dog and their spears the four hunters headed to the village, which was close by, as the hunters reached the woods they noticed how quiet the woods were. There was no signs of deer, or rabbits, even the birds did not sing their songs in the trees. While on the path the hunters spotted a great pine tree with scars from the great bear; as he had reared up on his hind legs, and clawed for his prey leaving deep scratches. The tallest of the four brothers tried to touch the highest of scratch marks with the tip of his spear, but it still fell short, “it is as the village people feared, this bear we hunt is ‘Nyah-gwaheh’, a monster bear.” Said the first brother.
“But it is said, that the Nyah-gwaheh has great magic?” Said the second brother.
“Yes, but it is also said the magic will do it no good if we find its tracks” The brother said shaking his head.
“That is so, the old people have told the creatures can only chase the hunter that have not yet found its trail. When we find Nyah-gwaheh tracks and start to hunt it, it has no choice but to run from us.” The third brother put in.
As they started back on their way the forth brother hunter, whom was the fattest and laziest asked. “Brothers, did we bring along enough food to eat? It may take a long time to catch the monster bear, and I’m getting hungry.” The other three brothers ignored him.
Before long they had reached the village, and it was a sad sight in deed. No fire burned in the center of the village and the doors to the long houses were closed with warriors standing guard. No game hung from the racks and the people looked hungry. The elder sachem of the people came to talk to the tallest brother.
“Uncle we are here to rid you of the monster.” The hunter said.
The fattest and laziest brother spoke up. “Uncle is there some food to eat and a place for us to rest before we have to head out to find the great bear? I’m hungry and tired.
The first hunter just shook his head and smiled at the elder. “My brother is a jokester, for we head out now to pick up the monster bear’s trail.”
“I’m not sure you can pick the trail,” the elder sachem said. “Our warriors have tried to follow the tracks that are amidst our village in the morning, but all to soon they disappear.”
The second hunter said. “With all do respect, uncle you warriors do not have a dog such as ours”, he knelt down and pointed to the black circles above the small dog’s eyes and continued, “Four-eyes can see any tracks even if they are many days old.”
“May the Creator’s protection be with you,” said the elder sachem.
“Do not worry Uncle, once we start our hunt we do not stop until we have caught our prey.” The third hunter said.
“That is why I think we should eat first,” said the forth brother.
Once again his brothers ignored him, and they nodded to the elder as they took their leave of the village. They continued to follow the little dog, he kept lifting his head, to look around with all four eyes, but the bear’s trail was not easy to find.
Soon the laziest and fattest hunter started to whine, “I think we should rest, we’ve been walking a long time, brothers.”
His brothers paid him no mind, though they could not see a trail yet. They could still feel Nyah-gwaheh’s presence and did not want to fall too far behind him, or they would be the ones who would be hunted by the bear.
After his brothers ignored him the laziest brother took out his pemmican pouch, at least he could eat while they walked. He opened the pouch to shake out the food he had prepared so carefully by pounding meat and berries together with maple sugar into strips to dry in the sun. But instead of pemmican, pale slimy worms fell out into his hands. Nyah-gwaheh’s magic had changed his food into worms.
The hunter shouted to his brothers, “Let’s hurry up and catch that big bear! He did away with my food, I’m angry now.”
The Nyah-gwaheh had circled around and was now a pale giant shadow lurking through the woods tracking the hunters, with eyes that flashed red and huge sharp teeth he would soon be the hunter, if they did not pick up his trail, quickly.
As though sensing his presence the little dog lifted its head and yelped.
“Eh-heh!” The first hunter yelled.
“Four-Eyes has found the trail.” Shouted the second hunter.
“We got Nyah-gwaheh on the run now.” Cried the third hunter.
“Big Bear, we catch you now!” the laziest and fattest hunter snarled through clenched teeth.
For the first time the great bear felt fear in his heart and he began to run. As he left the cover of the pines trees all four hunters spotted him for the first time his gigantic white shape seemed to glisten in sunshine as he cumbersome body stretched out his stride to run faster then the deer of the forest. The hunters quickly followed him with the sound of their loud hunting cries. The bear lead them through swamps and thickets trying to lose the hunters, but they ran swiftly too with the little dog leading their way, The trail was easy to follow with the bear in a hurry he was shoving everything aside no long was his path and tracks hidden. On and on they ran, over hills and through valleys, they ran up the slope of a mountain as they followed the trail higher and higher the bear climbed with them close enough behind to catch a glimpse of him here and there.
The fattest and laziest hunter was getting tired so he decided to pretend to fall and twist his ankle.
“You must carry, brothers, for I can not go on otherwise.” He called to them.
So two of his brothers took turns carrying them while the other carried his spear. They ran more slowly, but the bear was tiring also so they didn’t fall far behind with their extra load. As day turned into night, they were still able to see the glistening white giant bear ahead them, and they had reach the top of the mountain now the ground below them was pitch black as they ran across the smooth surface. The little dog had closed in enough that he was leaping up to nip at the bear’s legs and tail as he ran.
“Brothers, I think my leg is better now you can put me down.” The laziest one said.
“The brothers anxious to be rid of their heavy load, put him down, and since he was well rested unlike the other three, he grabbed his spear and ran ahead of them. He leveled his spear and thrust it into the heart of the bear, and Nyah-gwaheh fell dead. By the time the other brothers had arrived he had a fire built and was cutting up the skinned white bear.
"Would you like to join me in this feast, brothers for I am hungry and can wait no longer to eat.” The fourth hunter said as he speared pieces of meat to roast over the fire.
As the meat of the great bear cooked the fat sizzled and dripped from their fire, they ate until even the fattest and laziest one was satisfied.
They leaned back in contentment, and the first hunter looked down at his feet and exclaimed. “You need to look below us, brothers!”
The other three looked down to see what their brother had seen, below them were thousands of sparkling lights shining brilliantly in the darkness, which they realized were not only under them, but also all around them.
“We aren’t on the mountain, we’re in the sky!” The third brother stated.
The great bear’s magic had let the bear climb up into the sky to escape the four hunters, but due to their determination to not give up they had also been allowed into the heavenly sky. Just then the little dog yipped twice.
Look, at the great bear!” The second hunter exclaimed.
Where they had piled the bones of their feast, now stood the great bear once again. As they watched, the bear turned to run the small dog took off without even thinking. Once again the four brothers grabbed their spears and took off after the great bear the chase once more was on.
So over the years, the generations of our people have told this story. For each autumn the hunters chase the great bear across the skies and kill it. As they cut up the meat to feast the blood falls from the skies covering the leaves of the maple trees it changes their color to scarlet, while the fat drippings through the fire colors the grass yellow and white.
If you look closely at the skies when the seasons change, you can read their story. The great bear is the square shape of the bowl of the Big Dipper, the hunters and their dog make up the handle. When autumn arrives the constellation turns upside down and that is when the laziest hunter kills the bear and his blood drains upon the earth changing the colors of the leaves and grease changes the color of the grass. When it’s spring the bear rises again to be chased once more.
This story tells the people how autumn came to be.
I would also like to think the Cherokee people for the wonderful legends, making this article posible.
Also my thinks to National Geographic for the original picture of the polar bears.
http://www.ibiblio.org/storytelling/cherokee.html
http://kids.nationalgeographic.com/kids/stories/animalsnature/polar-bears-threatened/

Painting redone in adobe art Butte 2

Through the Eyes of a Child


By Janeal Mulaney



In the midst of a summer sunny day I sat and watch all the little children outside at play. Some with fair hair, some with dark, swinging on the large swing sets, down at the park. How sweet and innocence they all appear. Within his or her heart there is no fear, hate, or prejudice of any kind. They’re just happy to be playing with others or alone. They laugh and they smile, while enjoying their play. Some slide down the slide or go around and around, some pair up to go up and down. Blessed are the children for they know not better, but to love everyone as well as each other.

Every adult needs to look through the eyes of a child. For we forget to see the beauty of each precious day, that the lord has granted us. Their caring, thoughtful, and loving ways help to show us how we need to live each passing day.

A child’s pride does not keep them from asking, for the help they may need, or the love that they grave. Grudges they hold not for more then a day, to them it is wasteful to spend their life in that way. Right now they know not, whether they are rich or poor, neither do they care if a wolf is at the door. For they are children they’d just invite him in, feed him leftovers and let him stay within. Life is fascinating, and something to cherish, while young and carefree children wallow away the day, with dreams and play. They do not worry what tomorrow may bring, for today is all that matters, and yesterday a past dream. Their hopes, wishes, and wants aren’t very many for most of them receive their happiest moments, through the games that they cherish.

Now as they grow they learn by example serious, and business like, they no longer smile. Their job will come first, maybe their family second, but now they hurry all through the day. There is no more time for play, too many worries, too many bills that must be paid, that’s what it takes to keep the wolf away. Somewhere in time the dreams were long forgotten, the carefree days of their childhood gone. Some now know they are poor, while others are rich. Now fear, hate, and prejudice dwell within their hearts, while leading them on their way. For now the all mighty dollar has replaced their cherished days. The more they make, the more they want, and independence is highly valued, by everyone. There is no more us, nor are there we. The thought they now have is what’s good for me.

Most adults are too busy or maybe we’ve just lost our way, to remember the peaceful and happy times we’ve all had at play. Too often we forget that there is life after work, no time to appreciate our family and friends. Our spirit is broken; we’ve forgotten what love truly is. For yesterday was not enough, today is too short and tomorrow will bring only despair.

Every adult needs to listen to what their children say, for one day they will be just like you. Are you sure that is what you want for your child to do? Or do you wish for them to look at the world through the eyes of a Child?
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In The Rain

In the Rain
By Janeal Mulaney

I love to take a walk through the rain

The fresh air, the gentle drips that splash in puddles at my feet

The gray clouds with an electric currant running through them opening for more to fall

The sound of rolling thunder, as though God is speaking to those who want hear

As I wander in the rain

Just a tad of suspense and fear of the unknown

Icy fingers reaching out to lick my skin through the clothing I wear

Flashing light beyond the trees, as I count until the crack of thunder comes

The energy I absorb from the air that swirls the drops of rain all around me

As I wander through the rain

I see the flowers reaching out to drink

The grass turns greener with every step I take

The leaves flutter with the breeze that brings the drops onto my head

I breathe in to absorb the wet cool breeze as I search the sky

As I wander through the rain

Teens and Positive Rebellion

Teens and Positive Rebellion

Teens and Positive Rebellion
By Janeal Mulaney

Rebellion is a very important step to becoming an adult, not only will teen’s benefit from the experience so will their parents, and their younger siblings. There are many stages of rebellion, which accrue at different ages, during the adolescent years. During adolescence, bodies begin to mature and so does the mind. Teens will start to question, the morals, values and standards that their parents taught them. This is one of the first steps to becoming an adult. They feel that they have a right to be included in the process of the decision-making that will personally affect them. Their own insights and understanding will help decide what solution is right for them. This does not necessarily mean they will make the same decision that their parents or friends would. During this time, their siblings gain insight for their own personal future rebellion, as well as gaining more freedom from the older sister/brother’s rebellion.
As younger siblings witness their parents and older brother or sister’s conflicts, they learn from the sidelines, different ways to get through to their parents, when their own values and morals start changing. The younger child will learn that discussing a particular want or like with their parents might add more leniencies. On the other hand they may feel it is better to do what they want then face the punishment later. They may also learn where the definite line is drawn; in other words, what they cannot do until they are out of the house or after they have turned eighteen. After learning from the sparks that are ignited over fashions and other fads from their older siblings, the younger child may decide what fashions are really worth doing battle over. The younger siblings now have a better understanding and a more lenient set of parents to work with. Some issues, parents will not tolerate, even with all the discussion in the world.
Although parents do realize that rebellion goes with being a teenager, they are still responsible for guiding the teenager through the troubled fazes of this difficult time. Many teens can head straight for misfortune during this period. For this reason, it is most important that even though parents are afraid of losing their baby, they also remain calm and collected while figuring out how to handle each child with the best care possible. Friendships and other circumstances that teens are facing require parental control. Some parents have realized that stating no or absolutely not will in no way be the best answer; for some teens, these rebuttals may drive them even farther away from the people that indeed love them the most. They soon find that either saying no and here is the reason I feel this way, or manipulation of the teen in subtle ways works better to bring that teen around to the parent’s way of thinking. By giving the teen reasons, or stating the way the parents feel and why, the mother and father are helping the teen to realize that he or she believe that they are capable of dealing with that particular choice. Having teens see both sides of the situation, parents are able to help them make a clear coherent judgment on their own behalf.
With most teens, rebellion is their way of telling their loved ones that they are indeed growing up and are ready to take on more responsibility, including the teens own decisions. Through this period of time the teens are simply learning that they are able to rely on their own judgement. Even with some issues, the teen will indeed want mom and dad to be around if a mistake is made he/she still feels it is time for them to pursue their own verdict. If the teen knows that the parents will give them sound advice on subjects and explain why Mom or Dad have chosen that route; the teens are more apt to listen to their parent’s advice. Although the teenager may consult their friends or other people that they tend to admire. Many teens have rethought those decisions after a concerned adult or a loving parent has stated both aspects of their selection. Growing into an adult is a very important process.
Rebellion can be a very positive experience for the teenagers and their families, with showing the teen respect, caring, and trust though out their childhood years. Parents have established a good foundation for the adolescent years to come. One of the most essential elements is realizing that the child is flexing their wings for the first time, and the teen needs their parent’s encouragement to learn how to fly. With the parent’s belief and trust they will find that not only can the teen stand on their own. The parents will acknowledge that the teen’s judgement and intuition will be able to prepare them to become the competent, responsible, and productive adult. Improving the relationship or friendship as your teen grows will bring out the self-esteem that is essential to the teen’s development. As children grow all parents need to base their relationship on the idea of what form of kinship they want with their child in later years through communication and love this is a very easy process. Families can conquer the biggest problems with the greatest of ease, using respect, trust, communication, love, and guidance. Therefore teen rebellion can be a positive experience, for the family along with the teens.