My Special Rock Garden

I collect stones from the beach when I visit. I don't choose a stone for its shape, I just let the stone draw me to it. I decided to decorate my front door step with the stones and painted them with uplifting words and sentences.

I then decided that I would paint the names of my friends who are fighting or have fought cancer. The idea is that as I cross over the threshold of my house each day (a few times a day) I see my friends names and my thoughts and prayers go out to them.

If you cannot see your name on a stone and you would like me to put your name on one then please let me know by leaving a comment. Barry Fraser, there is a stone with your name on it, it is small and white and I don't think it was captured in the shot.

I find painting the stones very theraputic. I don't know what colours I will use or what I will paint until I feel the stone in my hand.

Several friends have commented on my stones and how pretty they make the door step look and I have explained to them the reason for my particular rock garden.

If I come home feeling sad or angry, I just glance down at my stones as I turn the key in my door and I am reminded that I am surrounded by love, family, friends, hope, faith and strength.

PS: you see the Race for Life badge on my blog? I am doing the 2010 Race for Life in May for Cancer Research. I would appreciate sponsorship and this can be done online by following the link. Please help me to realise my vision of the future where all cancers are treatable.

Tiny Tim and Rocking Chairs

Yesterday I posted all about Christmas plays. I was feeling a bit emotional because it will be the last one Joseff ever does at primary school. So many plays over the year, costumes made and memories treasured.

This morning it is the dress rehearsal of Scrooge and Joseff is quite aptly cast as "Tiny Tim". He is pictured above in the costume I have put together. What a medoly of memories are contained within that costume....... His boots are his riding boots, his trousers were old school ones belonging first to Joe then to Harry and the patches are made out of Jasons old ties. The shirt was bought as part of his outfit for my friends daughters naming day, the waistcoat was mine from about 25 years ago and I can't part with it and the best bit....... the neckerchief! Well..... that was one of my chemo bandanas! What a fantastic way to turn a negative into a positive!

As Joe sat in the old rocking chair to pose for this photo, my minds eye was taken to the photograph of my great grandfather....... Joe's great, great grandfather "Tom Ty Canol". His photograph was taken in the same pose, walking stick in hand (not the crutch) the same look on the face although no smile because that wasn't the "done" thing in those days!

The rocking chair is special to me as well. My mum was "left" some money and she used the money to purchase the chair which was quite expensive at the time. She has used this rocking chair to nurse my brother Peter, me, my younger brother Gareth and I have used this rocking chair to nurse my boys....... Not only is it comfortable to sit in, it holds such special memories for me. Who knows..... maybe one day I will be nursing my own grandchildren in it!

Session 3/12: Behind the Stage Curtains

I have talked on my blog before about "show time" and how when I step out of my front door, I put on my smile and the show goes on..... Equally; when I am at home, the costume is removed, the makeup taken off and I am me..... bald, tired, pained... me! My home is my sanctuary, it is the place where I can be.... My dogs accept me, so does my husband and my children.

So when people enter my humble home, I expect them to accept me as I am. Why is it then that people feel the need to make tactless remarks. Oh, don't get me wrong, I understand that they are remarks which are misguided attempts at making me feel better but they wound me.

The same remarks don't penetrate the costume when I go out of my front door, they fall off me like water off a ducks back but at home, with my protection removed, I am scarred.

I didn't ask to be bald. I didn't ask for someone to "go ahead and shave me". I detest it, I hate it. When I look in the mirror I am repulsed. I don't want this look, its not my sense of fashion! However when I am at home, I like to be comfortable. I wear my woolly hat because my head gets cold, I snuggle up in my husbands jumper becauses its warm and comforting then I take my hat off when I have a hot flush..... Don't judge me for my looks, accept me for me like my animals and my family do.