Hello Everyone,

August 2019

It's been over 3 years since I have posted any material.

Today I begin with a trilogy based off a challenge someone gave me.

Enjoy the read

~g

June 23, 2011

Inspiration me...Crazy Pasta

Letting go of panic - today I will - not be over-whelmed by panic. Panic will take my mind off my goals. It's normal to feel panic, but I simply feel it and let it go. I can get back on track by treading water until I regain my composure. I relax and know that all is well. ~Language of Letting Go by Melody Beattie

The loving innocent world of animals serves as a good example for me. The more you stop to observe animals and learn from them, the more healthy and peaceful your life will be. ~Inner Wisdom Cards by Dr. W. Dyer

Even my dreams are gloomy and morbid.  How does one control that?  Heart heavy and mind full, I can only muster the energy for work.  Once the time comes to go home, as the commute begins my mind begins to numb.  I don't fight it as it has become a way to deal.

The one memory that keeps coming to mind is Crazy Pasta.  Many years ago I was very sick.  Most Dr.'s gave me an end date.  A few would just tell me to hope.  I prayed.  No insurance, no job and a small boy with beautiful hopeful eyes.

One day I was down to the last of food.  A few boxes of pasta, individually each would not fill an infant, together it would fill a child and perhaps give me a nibble.  I prayed the whole time I emptied each box into boiling water.  Psalm 23...my favorite.

The milk was gone, plenty tap water, no dessert and bread was a luxury.  Oatmeal was our staple food for breakfast and lunch.  But whenever that boy looked at me... I smiled.  It would take time before I would receive charity.  I prayed for my health to turn even against the odds, I prayed for food, I prayed for a job, I prayed for my son.

The pasta was ready...I drained it; amazed.  It was incredible how much was in there.  Angel hair, penne, spaghetti and ziti.  Honestly, barely 3 or 4 strands or rolls in each box....but then it was plenty.   There was enough to feed my son and myself for a couple of days.  The bit of sauce mixed with water seemed to thicken before my eyes.  Enough to cover the lot.

As I teared I poured the mixed pasta onto plates.  My son looked and said 'CRAZY PASTA'.  I cried while eating in both amazement and gratitude.  A past co-worker had stopped by unannounced and watched the plates.  As I poured him water he said nothing.  A British man that I will never forget, long gone back to his country now.  He said he would be right back, he walked out of the apartment and he came back with 4 bags of groceries, left them at the door, rang the bell and left.  For a month thereafter another past worker; a friendly guy from Guyana had gotten word and would bring groceries, take me to appointments and watch my son.

A couple of months later I was working, my health vastly improving, I came home and asked my son, 'what would you like for dinner?'  CRAZY PASTA.  For years he would ask at least once a week and I would take different boxes and make it for him.

I guess it is the hope that was born in me at that time that makes me remember.  I guess it's the fact that the small boy now a young man no longer asks or may not even remember Crazy Pasta.  I guess it's in knowing that I kept poverty and sickness from him while smiling.  I guess it's knowing that even though Crazy Pasta won't help, letting go of panic and remembering the start of it all....Psalm 23 helped.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures...........

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