I'm sorting through saved mementos again

Before I moved from my old apartment, in Omaha, Nebraska, I sorted through all of the memorabilia that was in three old footlockers that I had. I didn't do a good job of getting rid of alot of those things from my past although I tossed some out. I allowed myself to be impractical about that chore and overly sentimental toward too many things, that I then lugged along with me to my new place, which I have no room for here. After over a year living here I am finally facing this task, again, simply because I have no choice. It has to be done and without nearly as much of my past 'sentimental attachment' to these things. For lack of storage space alone, I must throw out twelve times what I end up keeping! That's how challenging this chore is. I started working on it, today, and was proud of myself, for getting rid of much more than I kept; from the first stack. Hopefully, I can, and will, do at least as well, on the rest of the sorting of this, accumulated, documentation that I have indeed lived on this earth, for over 66 years now, and have, so far, lived to tell the tale. I decided to write this blog post, to share some of my finds, with my readers. One thing's for sure. There's ample evidence that I've been a writer my whole life.

Based on my scrawl, this was written by me, in January 1967. I would have been 11. I was fascinated to see what thoughts were in my head at that age, and even earlier.

If the sun came out at night-

and the moon came out at day-

then to set things right,

I'd pray and pray.

That one, and the following poem that I wrote, were on old, yellowed, pages, of notebook paper, carefully printed by me in pencil. Clearly, I am just very verbal.

Dandelion

There was a pretty dandelion

with lovely, yellow, hair,

that glistened in the sunshine

and in the summer air.

But oh! This pretty dandelion

soon grew old and grey;

and, sad to tell, her lovely hair

blew many miles away.

Starting School At The Age Of 6 (written at some point when I was an older child)

My aunt, Gladys Workman, took  me  to  South Elementary School in Mebane. My mom couldn't take me because she is a teacher and taught her class that day.  At first I was disappointed, but Aunt Gladys was very nice to me (she always will be, and is), so, I  soon  found  myself, at  school, coloring, and, copying letters of the alphabet.

The days after that meant hard work, studying, homework, and an early bedtime. Also, I had to get a notebook, pencils, and school clothes. 

I was timid and shy the first month of school, but I settled down after a while. The work was easy- really!! At least I thought it would be hard. But, I got used to it as it got harder.

My first grade teacher is Mrs. Yoder.

Now there is 4 children in my family because in November, on the 19, my little sister, Pam, was born. She was playful and cute when she was little! But, when she grew- Help!! She was whiny and fussy!

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I found a photograph of me dressed as a harem girl, for a Halloween party, at the Offutt Air Force Base NCO club. It had a face veil also, but I had removed that for the picture. I still have that costume. A note on the back of the photo says it was "Halloween 1987", so I would have been 31 years old at the time. I was a natural brunette. I still have the costume in a box with many of my old dancer costumes.

The photograph below was one of my high school graduation pictures. I was 18. I was dreamy-eyed, naive, vulnerable, and hopeful for the future. I had been in the Chess Club in high school and was a studious bookworm. I was not a party person at all. When I look at the innocence, and purity, and sweetness, on my face in this photo, I feel so sad for that girl. I am not that girl, anymore. Too much happened.

I came across this old poem that I wrote for an Air Force Major that I met at church. He led the adult Sunday school class, and we became friends. His wife, had left him, and their two, teen-age, children, before I ever even attended that church or met him. He was still legally married  though, so we struggled with the feelings we developed for one another, because, for both, of us, our love for, and relationship with, the Lord was our highest, personal, priority. Sometimes the feelings were overwhelming, but I managed to remain friends with him, and nothing more; and because I had once asked his children if they wanted their family reunited, and they did, I helped him work through his feelings about his wife leaving him, and helped him to realize his part, in that happening. I left a cassette tape for him about how to heal a broken marriage. We never became romantically involved physically, and his wife did eventually return to her family. I withdrew, from the situation, before that even happened, after I had done all I knew, to do, to help him work through it, to the point that, his heart was open, to her, again. I knew that it was the best thing for that family. I loved him, as a very dear friend, but nothing more, because my relationship with God has always been the foundation for my life on this earth, and I know that  I will never be happy with anyone that is NOT GOD'S WILL for ME. His Will, is ALL that I want!

My Christmas Prayer For You, 1992

I had you on my mind, as I said my prayers,
as Christmas Eve turned into Christmas Day.
I gave it all to God-- all that's in my heart!--
Now, I'll share with you the things I had to say:

Lord, I lift this man to You--
A new and precious friend
Who's come into my life
for something toward Your end.

Help me just to trust in You--
Your best is all I need!--
and let my heart feel nothing
of which You are not the seed.

I don't want to hurt You, Lord,
by anything I do.
Despite my human frailties, Lord,
You know how I love You!

I've seen his love for you, as well.
A blessing to behold!
A man whose mind is stayed on You;
he's not lukewarm or cold.

I lift up his situation.
Reveal Heaven's answers, Lord!
Undo all of Satan's evil works.
Break those bondage cords.

There are some times my heart goes out
to him in risky ways . . . . 
And I sigh to think of all the
lack of love throughout my days . . . .

Two wrongs don't make a right, though, Lord,
so there's nothing we can do
but hold Your Word within our hearts
and keep our eyes on You!

Forgive me for the fantasies;
forgive me for the flesh;
forgive the things in me that want to force
what You alone can mesh.

Satan knows my hunger
and he will send 'junk food',
for nothing good will come to me
unless it comes from You!

So, if it does, and when it does,
Lord, I will know You've heard
the whispered prayers, and seen the tears;
and manifest Your Word.

                                           - Deborah Robinson
                                             Christmas Day 1992

P.S. Nothing is a bargain AT ANY PRICE if it's not God's Will, and also what you REALLY want.

MY  HAIKU: 

The sun sizzles, melts, and drips bronzed warmth onto the earth; then evening comes.

Thoughts . . .

I'm stuck in the sadness, trying to shake free. At the moment, it's getting the better of me.

I'm not gonna lie; it's hard watching dreams die.

11th Hour

It's the eleventh hour. All our bridges are burned. Can't go back where we were. There's no way to return. Why'd we end up like this? I don't really know. But I've always heard that we reap what we sow.

Lord, did You give us this life to be happy? Or, just to be pawns in a game? Why do You let the devil devour, when the buck stops with You, and Your Name?

"Sit down and shut up!" "Stand up and speak out!" Do you need somebody else's permission, to be what you're all about?

I wrote this poem on May 6, 2000 . . .

Looking Back

I'm afraid to ask you

if you feel what I feel,

'cause what if you don't;

you say, "It can't be real",

like you did once before,

about three years ago,

when I told you I cared

so you told me to go?

Then how will I ever

know the real reason why

you go out of your way

to look into my eyes,

though you don't say a word,

and you don't ever smile?

Are you feeling it, too?

Or, are games just your style?

Did you figure out that

I get weak in my knees

when your eyes meet with mine?

Do you just like to tease?

Is my heartache a game,

that you score high points for,

so you hurt me to "win"

like it's some kind of war?

We could talk this all out

if we weren't so afraid;

and that isn't just from

the mistakes we've both made.

There's something between us,

though denied, it's endured,

that all our attempts

have simply not cured.

Live the life that you want--

Live the life that you have--

I don't feel what I feel

to change that, or be bad!

If I could I would stop

all my feelings for you.

I've tried and I've tried;

what more can I do?

Just don't try to convince me

you don't feel it, too,

when you're looking at me,

and I look back at you.

More Thoughts . . . 

Life doesn't just happen-- it happens to us-- and it leaves its marks on us, whether we like it or not, or admit it or not . . . .

No one is totally good . . . or all bad.

I have a truly broken heart, and no one can fix that-- except God.

. . . and, I'm still waiting . . . 

but I've almost given up hope.