Heaven In His Eyes

Heaven In His Eyes

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

August 17, 2022

I am always taken by surprise when God gives me what I call sacred holy moments. They usually happen when I least expect it and from a place or person that I would never think possible. Tonight the bearer of this precious gift to me was my 3 year old grandson Michael.

Michael is an energetic little boy. He is full of excitement and awe at the world around him. He soaks in everything like a sponge. He is always trying to figure out how things work and he loves to learn. He is completely obsessed with solar system. He can name and identify every planet, moon, stars...you name it. He knows things I have never heard of! It's fun to watch the excitement that builds up in him when he tells you about it.

My son texted me the other day and we planned to have dinner together tonight. When they got to my house Michael decided he wanted to draw a picture of the sun and planets. So I got paper and pastel crayons out for him and he went to work. He was so excited. He would tell us all about each planet he drew. There was this joy all around him and it filled the room. It even inched its way into my downcast heart. I always say that my little grandson is the oil of joy for my sadness from losing my father a few months ago.

After Michael finished his masterpiece he reminded me that we always sit on the front porch and swing when he comes over. So, off we went to the front porch. We swang and named the colors of each car that drove by. It had been cloudy all day but while we were sitting there the blue sky started peaking through behind the clouds. Michael got all excited. He asked me, "GeGe, how do the clouds move out of the sky?" I replied, "Well I suppose God blows them out of the way." Then he said, "Well if God does not blow them out of the sky so I can see the moon tonight then I will just blow them out of the way myself. I like to look at the moon." We both laughed and kept swinging.

When it was time to go home Michael gave me the picture he drew of the solar system. We hung it on my refrigerator together. He stood there looking all proud of his accomplishment. I told him how much I loved the planets he drew. His eyes were sparkling like 2 beautiful stars as he gazed at his picture. Then he looked at me and said, "Gege, its beautiful because it's Heaven! See? Right there it is. All planets and the universe is Heaven!" At that moment I saw Heaven in his eyes.

I do believe my little grandson has seen and knows God much better than I do. He still has that child-like innocence and faith. I hope he never loses it. I hope I always see Heaven in his eyes like I did tonight. What a sacred holy moment I was blessed to experience with my beautiful grandson. It is one I will treasure all of my days.

As for the picture...I will always see Heaven in it now. I will forever be reminded of seeing Heaven in his eyes when I look at it. I will frame it this weekend and display it proudly.

Oh, Michael, my little grandson...I always say you hung the moon for me. Tonight you truly did!! I love you more my sweet boy!

Love,

GeGe ❤️

More Random Thoughts About Death from Yours Truly

More Random Thoughts About Death from Yours Truly

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

August 14, 2022

It was 6 months since my Dad went home to be with the Lord on August 11th. Some days it seems like 6 minutes and others it seems like 6 years. It is weird how time goes so slow and yet so fast all at the same time. God's timing always frustrates and amazes me at once. I can see His hand at work, yet I do not understand His ways most days. 

I spent up until my 30s, so the majority of my life, hating my Dad and fighting over stupid shit with him instead of taking an active interest in him and enjoying the good in him. When I realized that, I started reaching out to him everyday and I went to spend time with him as much as I could. Over time, my relationship with him healed. Every day until he could not do it anymore he would text and tell me I was his beautiful daughter, that he loved me and was proud of me. It only took a few seconds to do that but it made me feel like I was important to him. I still have those texts today.

When my Dad died I was right there with him. He held my hand and never let go. Our eyes were locked in a gaze with eachother until his last breath and last heartbeat. All I could think was why I never knew what a beautiful almost sky blue color my Daddy's eyes were. They were gorgeous. I do not know why I never took the time to just look in his eyes. How sad it was that it took me till he died to really look in his eyes.

So far, I have learned a few things from my Dad's death. Life is too short to build walls between you and the ones you supposedly love. Life is fleeting and soon lost and should not be wasted on one's who take no active interest in you and your relationship and vice versa. Most of all, it is important to take the time to really look in eachother's eyes because there will come a day that it is too late and you will not be able to.

I am sure I will learn more as time goes by. Someday the hurt will not be so bad. But right now, there are days it hurts to breathe because I miss him so deeply. I am doing the best I can and it is a Holy friggin' miracle I have not drank or drugged over it all. God's grace has kept me sober in spite of it. Oh what a precious gift God's grace is!!

I love you Daddy. I miss you. You are still alive in my heart and mind. Until we meet again...XOXO!!!

Andi ❤️

Roses and Crows

Roses and Crows

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

July 15, 2022

I have had this in my heart for awhile now. I have been trying to make sense of it. Yet, my thoughts are all jumbled and scrambled. I know myself well enough to understand that if I do not write, I will never unscramble or understand what my heart is trying to tell me. So, I am just going to write it. Maybe I will change it later and maybe I will not.

Since my Dad died I have done nothing but work from home all day during the week and take care of everyone else in my free time. Do not get me wrong. I am not complaining about helping at all. I just realize I have not given much time to myself. When I do, I end up in a pile of tears missing my Daddy so bad. I know, it is all a part of grieving but I still do not like it.

I talk to my Dad alot because I know he is around me, I just do not see him. Ever since he died I have been asking him to send me signs. I pay attention too. The Cherokee part of me is always watching.

I do not get out very often. When I do it is a quick trip in and out of a store. I just happen go to this one store that is in the same shopping center as my Dad's favorite tool store. Every time I go to this store, when I get out of the car this black bird is right there dancing. The first time it happened I thought it's dance looked like a Cherokee dancing. Then I started laughing and I thought maybe my Dad was trying to say hello to me. Like I said every time I go there this same black bird is there dancing. I did some research and I am pretty sure it's a crow.

I am forever researching the symbolism of things so I looked up the crow. The first site I landed on said this:

"Many people see crows as negative. However, that is not true. Crows appear to alert you to the presence of spiritual shifts taking place around you. They are there to remind you to pay close attention to the spiritual signs that are being conveyed to guide you in the right direction. They are symbols of change, phases, telepathic powers, and the ability to see into the realms of the unseen."

I do not know about anyone else but that blew my mind! I know there are transitions or changes on my horizon. I can feel them in my spirit even though I do not know what they are yet. I was introduced to the Holy Spirit when I was 10 years old and I have always known when some things are going to happen around me whether I told anyone or not. I identify with having the traits of an empath. I am not a holy roller or spiritual guru at all. I just know there is a Father, Son and Holy Ghost and that is my Higher Power. It is not about religion for me at all.

So, I believe the crow is my Dad trying to tell me that no matter what happens, good or bad, he is going to be there. I need to just keep moving forward and keep dancing with him. Also, the dancing reminds me that when I enter His courts and praise Him; my Dad, grandchildren, grandparents, ancestors and angels are there with me.

That may all sound crazy some people but not to me. I had a vision years ago of dancing at God's throne with my granddaughter Zoey. I also died one time and came back. I was there at His throne and it was the most awesome experience. The mercy and grace that I felt; the feeling of all the weight of this world being off me...it was absolutely beautifully amazing. Then, God told me to go back and I wanted to stay so bad, because there I was finally home. Yet, I knew I had to go back to raise my children, there was still other things to learn and others to help. The first few months back I felt so heavy. I still do sometimes today. Anyway, I got off track. I guess there was a reason for it.

God blessed us with our own home last November, the day before my Dad got sick and the 3 month nightmare began that culminated in his death. He never got to see my home. It has bothered me alot. I had prayed for my own home, some place that felt peaceful and one that I could fix up. I wanted it to be a place of ease and comfort to anyone who entered. It did not have be huge, just good bones. I looked every evening for 3 months for this house. God blessed me with a patient realtor. When I walked in the first time, I just knew in my heart of hearts that this was home.

Since we have been here I have slowly realized some things about this place. Everyone who walks in the house for the first time says the same thing, "This place just feels like home." I did not realize it at the time we bought it but it is right across the street from an elementary school that I went to. We lived up the street. It was the happiest time of my childhood, before puberty hit and the fighting with my Dad started. When I grew up we worked out our issues but I know I was hell as a teenager.

Our home is on a corner with a half acre lot. The front porch faces the school. We always plant flowers. The previous owner had a flower bed in the front and what looked like ugly wheat grass with rose bushes planted in between. We got rid of the ugly wheat grass and left the rose bushes. We planted flowers in April, earlier than usual. I did not pay much attention to the rose bushes.

Around Father's Day in June, suddenly the roses started blooming. They were absolutely beautiful. There were so many they weighed the bushes down. They bloomed like crazy all of June. My Dad's birthday was June 27th. They started wilting after his birthday. I figured they would not bloom anymore this year.

I was curious about roses and started researching them. The first thing I stumbled on is that roses are the birth flower for June. I thought that was pretty cool since it is my Dad's birth month. It was his way of saying, "Hello! I'm still here!!"

I also found this explanation that rings true in my heart:

"Since ancient times, roses have symbolized God at work in whatever situation they appear. The intricate and elegant rose offers a glimpse of a masterful creator's active presence in creation. As this fragrant flower blooms, its buds gradually open to reveal blossoms with lovely layers—an illustration of how spiritual wisdom unfolds in people's lives. The strong, sweet scent of a rose brings to mind the powerful sweetness of love, which is the essence of God. So it's not surprising that many miracles and encounters with angels throughout history have involved roses."

After reading that I thought well that is nice but there will not be anymore roses this year. Boy, was I wrong! I walked outside the other day and the roses are blooming again! Just a couple of days before I was asking my Dad for another sign. He sure gave it to me!!

If I had been asked to tell you what signs my Dad would use to tell me that he is still around me I would have never said roses and crows. Roses are beautiful but they have thorns. Crows often get a bad wrap. To many people they are a nuisance much like pigeons. So, if I were to look at these 2 things with my earthly eyes I would miss out on the messages God and my Dad are trying to send me.

When I look through my spiritual eyes, I can see that God is trying to tell me that no matter how "thorny" life gets and no matter how negative people treat me like they do crows...He is still there even when it does not feel like it. 

I believe my Dad is trying to tell me, just like the crows, keep dancing even when my heart aches. He also wants me to stop and pay attention to the beauty around me like the roses. Sometimes I need to be still to see the angels in my midst. This is all a reminder to me that even though I cannot see my Dad, he is ever present around me just like God is.

So, at least for today I am going to stop and smell the roses and keep dancing with the crows.

I love you Daddy ❤️

HOPE

HOPE

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard 

7/8/22

At one point in my life I went for 3 years with something wrong with my vision, balance off and clear liquid spewing out one nostril any time I got up and moved around. Specialist after specialist ran test after test. At one point I was in the hospital for 9 days! This was via Indian Health Care and being farmed out to different doctors. Finally, my PCP sent me to an ENT in Tahlequah. Strangely, they had opening the next day and I went. I found out that day that I was the last IHS patient they were ever accepting again. The ENT looked at me and read the mountain of medical records. He said he knew what it was but there was only one doctor in Tulsa that could treat it. He referred me there. Again, they just happened to have an opening within a couple of days. More tests determined that I had a cerebral spinal fluid leak. Fluid from my brain was leaking out my nose. I had surgery and when they were in there they found that my brain was sagging out of my skull. So, a simple 2 hour patch job for the leak turned in to a 9 hour major brain surgery to put my brain back where it belonged. Not what anyone was expecting!

If you have read this far, PLEASE KEEP READING! I started a new job working from home in July 2019. Benefits went into effect immediately and they gave me 2 weeks PTO up front. This was about the time I started getting referrals to the ENT, then doctors in Tulsa and more tests ran. At the time I did not realize that my new employer gave me short term disability and then I had forgotten that I signed up for extra too. This is something I never did before. Also, my employer gave all employees Christmas thru New Years off with pay, not counting PTO. It just so happened that the date for my surgery was December 28th. Right in the middle of my time off for the holidays. When I came out of surgery and could think straight I called my boss. She reminded me that I had short term disability I could use. I called HR, there was a waiting period before payments started which just so happened to be the same amount of paid holiday time and the 2 weeks PTO I had. So, I never missed a payday. I was off work for 6 months. DOES ANYONE SEE THE HAND OF GOD AT WORK YET?!

I wrote all that to tell you this...even when it feels like God is not working, HE IS WORKING! That is what I learned from what felt like a 3 year nightmare that ended in brain surgery. When I step back, I can see God was working it all out all along. As a result of all that, I have hope today. I heard a guy say the other day that hope means to expectedly wait on God to move.That is the kind of hope I have now. If God will do that for me, I know He's doing the same for you!

Going Home

Going Home

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

7/1/22

This is a post I wrote to a friend in response to her decision to put down her beloved dog.

I love my animals like I love people. Actually I love them more than most people. About 2 years ago I had to put my hearing dog Reggie down. In February I was there to tell my dad it was ok to stop living here and go home to God. Both were equally difficult and painful just in different ways. I can tell you this...it takes great love, very deep love of someone or an animal to help them transition to arms of God. Each time I've done it, it was the one thing I did not want to do the most; yet the very thing I would not have missed for anything in the world. You may think I'm crazy, hell I am crazy; but helping a being, human or animal, transition is to me the most holy, horribly beautiful experience I have ever had. It is at their last breath that I realize the incredible depth of love we shared. I hold on to that love until we meet again. That is the hope I have that helps me keep going day by day without them. I will keep you in my prayers. 🙏🏼😢❤️

Honoring My Father

Honoring My Father

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

6/29/22

We held my father's military burial on his 82nd birthday, June 27, 2022. It was small and private; just my stepmom, my son and his family, my husband and myself. We did not invite others in the family because of all the hatred and strife they have caused since his death in February.

One of the last things my father asked me to do in private, before he lost his voice, was to make sure his military burial was dignified and peaceful. He told me that he knew certain people would come to it and cause drama and he did not want that. So, my stepmother and I prayed about it and discussed it together. As sad as it was for us, we decided that small and intimate was the better choice. It was not an easy choice but I know in my heart, to the very core of my spirit that what we did was right in the eyes of my father and most importantly in the eyes of God. My father was honored. That is what he deserved.

We did a video of it and distributed it through my social media, texts and emails so that everyone knows where my father is buried. Even though the ceremony was beautiful in many ways and we saw the Lord's hand in all of it, it was as if the scab on my heart that was healing got ripped open again because I miss my father so much.

Since the ceremony, family members have called and said horrible, horrible things to me and about my stepmom, myself and my little family. They have sent vicious texts and messages to me. These same people were nowhere to be found when my father fought for his life for 3 months and died. It was only me and my stepmom there 24/7. We tried to get them to help. His son only showed up when I pleaded and begged with him to come and that was only a few times. Others who showed up once or twice through it all only showed up to beg  for money from my father or for a photo op. NO ONE in my extended family that lived here offered comfort or help to me or my stepmom during this nightmare we were living through.

Once my father died and the money tree died with him they were nowhere to be found. They spewed lie after lie. His own son threw away the things my father willed to him. It is on video. I cannot believe anyone would dishonor their father that way! He and all the others will have to answer to God some day for the way they acted.

When we were planning my father's memorial service in February we called and left messages with my father's twin sister, his brother and other family. They never answered. We BEGGED my father's son to help us with the memorial. He flat out refused saying if he could not control EVERYTHING including my father's money he wanted nothing to do with it. My father's other daughter told me he was dead to her 15 years ago and she wanted nothing to do with any of it.

So, my stepmom, my little family and I forged ahead ALONE. In spite of all this God brought angels to comfort us in the form of one of my father's doctor friends and his wife. I am forever grateful to them.

I am not writing all this to start more drama. I hope if you have read this far you hear the complete hurt and anguish I feel right now. I am not even angry. I am crushed in my heart and spirit. I know the lies that have circulated about me, my stepmom, my husband, my kids and grandkids.

I have stayed silent till now because I just wanted to give my father an honorable fairwell. I did that. Yet, I am very much my father's daughter and I hear him in my heart telling me to set the record straight. That is why I am writing this.

My father was my best friend, my hero, my confidant, my safe place to land in this world. I texted and spoke to him on the phone numerous times a day. We had dinner together at least once a week. We celebrated the good times and held eachother up through the hard times in life. I held his hand until he took his last breath and his heart stopped beating. My life is so dark without him. I know I will get through this but I will never get "over" it. How can I get over losing someone I loved so deeply?!

I would not change how I  did anything or the decisions we made after he died because I know I did the right thing and honored my father. He always told me, "Andrea, you are my oldest child. With that comes responsibility. Some day you will have to make decisions that piss others off, even though it is the right thing to do. You stand strong and do the right thing no matter how they act." That is what I did for my father the other day and I have no regrets.

All I can say is the truth is out now. Make your own conclusions and if you do not want to be a part of my life, so be it. Move on. I probably will not notice you are gone anyways.

Please understand that my stepmom, husband, kids, grandkids and I did not want the hatred, strife and lies that have gone on. It has not come from us but it has been viscously directed at us. IT NEEDS TO STOP! ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!

My father is dead and all the hatred in world will not bring him back.

Let him rest in peace and leave us alone to grieve.

In closing, a note to my father...

Dear Daddy,

I am so grateful God gave you to me. You taught me that when we block out all the noise around us and focus on eachother, all that is left is the love we share with eachother. And oh what a beautiful love it was and still is!! Love never dies. That is what I hold onto now. I know you are home with God. What a beautiful place it is!! We will meet again someday.

Love,

Your Little Andi ❤️

My Twisted Journey Through Sobriety

My Twisted Journey Through Sobriety

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard 

6/25/22

I am coming up on 36 years of sobriety on July 5th. I have not gotten a medallion since the pandemic started, so for at least a couple of years. I was thinking about this past 2 years and how crazy it has been. Crazy good and crazy bad.  

First I had brain surgery. Then I switched jobs to a better job. My mom had major surgery and nearly died and her husband did die from COVID. We moved her back here from Florida. I drove her home and my sister brought all her stuff back and sold her house. 

Somewhere in the middle of all that God blessed us with our own home. For the first time in years I could finally relax and breathe in my own space. Then, right after we moved into our home last November my father got an infection in his knee after surgery. My mom was living with us and I took care of her as best I could while working from home all day. I would get my work done and then take care of my father every evening. He was in and out of hospitals, mostly in. I would go sit with him and help him eat dinner and we would watch television together. He demanded that we hold hands. 

I watched my father dwindle away a little more every day. In early January this year he contracted COVID. He was quarantined for 2 weeks. I went every evening, no matter what the weather was and sat in my lawn chair outside his window and talked to him on the phone. Many evenings I was in my coat in the snow. I left him silly little signs on the window, pics of me and my stepmom, his grandkids and great grandkids. I would write we love you, we're still here, your not alone because I didn't want him to think we forgot him. When they finally released him from quarantine I took the day off and spent it with him. I just knew he was going to make it now. Sadly, COVID left his body so weak that the infection came back with a vengeance. It attacked his neck and spine and paralyzed him from the waist down. He started losing use of his hands and could barely speak.

The night before he died he went into tachycardia. Something told me to take off work and stay with him all night. I knew his time with us was short. My dad fought so hard to live, yet his body could not do it. I held his hand and I never let it go. I finally told him that it was okay to go home to God and I would be with him again someday. I told him do not worry about Linda (my stepmom), that I would take care of her. 

I kissed him on the cheek in a final goodbye and he squeezed my hand. Our eyes locked for what seemed like a lifetime because our whole 59 years together flashed before my eyes. Everything, the good and the bad, but especially the love we shared through it all. I remember his eyes were a gorgeous sky blue and that I had never realized how beautiful they were. First his breathing stopped and then his heartbeat. I sobbed like I have never sobbed in my life. I lost my hero, my battering ram through puberty, my voice of wisdom and my best friend as an adult. It was the most sacred, holy, horrible yet weirdly beautiful experience I have ever been through in my life. My father went to the arms of God on February 11, 2022.

I said all that to say this. It is a miracle that I have not had a drink or drug since July 5, 1986. Had I not gotten sober and been blessed with holy angels around me both in and out of the program I would not have been there for my father in his final days. I would not have been there to help him go home to God. No matter how bad I hurt without him here, I know he is so much better off being there than with me here. I also know that one drink would not fix a thing.

A few days ago I decided to order myself a medallion. I went from one online store to another. I stumbled upon a medallion that spoke to my heart and the story about described my journey through sobriety. It's not a "traditional" medallion, but at this point who cares? This medallion is called the Twisted Tree of Life Medallion. The prayer on the back of it is one I say every day. Here is the story of this medallion:

"The Tree of Life has a special meaning in recovery. It highlights how the principles of Honesty, Hope, Faith and Willingness are the sprawling roots in sobriety that lead us on a path to shaping a full and abundant life. The branches of the recovery tree highlight all the areas of our lives that we get back and how they work together to contribute to a content and meaningful existence."

I personally love that it is a twisted tree because my journey through sobriety has been pretty twisted, to say the least. I got my medallion today in the mail a few days early. I think my dad wanted it that way. 

As I look at the tree and all the twisted branches I think of all the women in recovery that have been in my life. Some planted seeds and moved on and others have stayed. I also think of 2 men, Harold Inman and George Gibbs who sat on each side of me at my homegroup meetings for 3 years and taught me how to live sober one day at a time. Without all these people I would not have been alive, much less been there for my dad. I truly owe them my life.

I know I am still here for a reason. I have 2 of the most awesome adult children, a son and daughter that make me proud. I have 4 gorgeous teenage granddaughters and a 3 year old grandson who has hung the moon for me. I have a beautiful home. I have an even better job now that I enjoy doing from home. My mom is doing better. I am still sober! What more could one want? If I had been asked to write where I would be after 36 years sober on day 1 of sobriety, I would have shortchanged myself. God is good!

My Thoughts on Abortion

My Thoughts on Abortion 

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard 

June 24, 2022

I wrote this in response to another person's post about the overturn of Roe V. Wade today. I putting it out here so there's no question where I stand. If you do not like it, feel free to unfriend/block me. I probably will not notice anyway.

I have an adopted granddaughter and a granddaughter that my daughter had when she was 16. I deeply love them both and am forever grateful that they were not aborted. My world would be so gray without them. I believe that using abortion as a form of birth control is wrong and should not be allowed. Yet, there are times when it is necessary (rape, incest, life of mother).

For me personally, abortion is wrong. However, I will not stand in judgement of anyone else. I just know someday when I die, I  will meet my maker and be judged and I am grateful that this will not be on the list of things I have to answer for. Believe me, my list is long enough without that.

One other thing, my granddaughter Zoey was born on February 28, 2006. She was 18 weeks gestation. The doctors told us she was not "viable" to save. She fought for 11 minutes to live! She knew who her momma and daddy were. She grabbed their fingers. She fought so hard to live while know it all, overeducated, smug physicians literally stood there and let her die. This was in a non Christian hospital where they obviously do not honor life. Had she been at another hospital that is Catholic, where they do honor life they would have at least tried to save her. That day sealed in my heart where I stand on this issue.

I just pray that somehow God unites us all in His love. We need a way and miracle in this country and He is the Waymaker and Miracle Worker. My life is living proof of it.

4 Months

4 Months

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard 

Written 6/11/22 for my Father

4 Months

17 Weeks

121 Days

2,904 Hours

174,240 Minutes

10,454,400 Seconds

Since you left and 

Went home to God

The longer you are gone

The deeper the ache

In my heart

Some days

It hurts to breathe 

Time doesn't heal

All wounds

It often makes them

Worse

At least it's that way

For me

I fight every day

To get up

Keep going

No matter the pain

I feel

I keep watching

For signs 

That you are near

That you hear

When I cry

Yet I find none

If I could only see

I know you're there

I just have to be quiet

And watch

4 months feels

Like a lifetime away

I long for you

I miss you so

Yet I know

You're only 

A breath away

So close 

But alas

So far

I know I must

Be still

Trust God

Pray

And hold on

To the hope 

That we will

Meet again

Some day

On God's 

Celestial shore

I love you Daddy,

Andi ❤️

My Jewelry Armoire

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

Mother's Day 2022

I have had this jewelry armoire for many, many years. I remember I bought it at K-Mart. It was on sale for around $40. I kept going back and forth to the store every day or two trying to justify in my mind how I could spend $40 on myself. Back then $40 was a lot of money. Eventually, I convinced myself that I deserved it and I bought it and took it home. I have drug this armoire with me everywhere for over 30 years. Mind you, I do not have expensive jewelry. I never have. Yet, I love what I call junk jewelry. I also have some sentimental momentos tucked inside it.

Over the years my jewelry armoire has taken a beating. It has had layers of left over tape stuck from moving across the country and many times from one side of town to other. Yet, I still hung on to it because I cherished what was inside it.

I had brain surgery back in December 2020 and we moved into another rent house a few months before. The movers tipped over my armoire and hurriedly threw my precious junk jewelry back inside it and wrapped it with a mountain of movers cling wrap. I was barely doing good enough at the time to get the house liveable and the kitchen set up. Then my mom nearly died last summer and my stepdad died of COVID. So, I just left my armoire in a dark corner and forgot about it.

This past November God blessed us with a home of our own. The movers hurriedly threw my armoire in my spare room that I have dubbed my art room because I will have it set up and be painting in there soon. Right after we moved in my father got real sick and for the next 3 months I helped care for him. Little did I know at the time that he would die in February. With all the chaos of my life, once again, I just left my jewelry armoire there in the corner and forgot about it.

After my father died and the dust settled I looked around at my disorganized home. I realized it had been many years since I felt like I had a home I could fix up and make my own. So, I wrote a list of things I wanted to do in no particular order, just list. I have slowly started working on that list. One of things was to buy a new jewelry armoire, sort through my junk jewelry and decide what to keep and what to get rid of and throw the old armoire away.

I started pricing jewelry armoires on Amazon and other sites and was shocked at how expensive they are! The cheapest one I could find was $150 and it was not nearly as big as the one I had. I decided to take the mountain of cling wrap off of it. I realized even though it had been banged around, tossed in a corner and forgotten about, that it was worth salvaging and it would definitely cost a lot less than a new one.

Over the last week or so I have slowly worked on my jewelry armoire.  First, I took all my precious junk jewelry out and sorted it in various containers for earrings, necklaces, lapel pins, etc. While I was sorting through it I found beautiful things I had forgotten I had. There were pendants with pictures of my children when they were young and other little hidden treasures of mine inside. They might not mean anything to someone else, but they meant the world to me.

Then I found some Goo Be Gone in the garage and started slowly getting the layers of tape from all my moves off of it. I was actually amazed, the Goo Be Gone took it off quite easily. Low and behold, once all the tape and gunk was off of it my armoire looked almost brand new. I replaced the old drawer knobs with some new ones and cleaned the inside out. It looks quite beautiful and I am actually proud of the job I did.

God teaches me things the most when I am in the middle of doing something. He definitely got my attention while I was taking care of this. Tonight, I was fixing the magnets on the side doors and having a hard time. The screws I was using were tiny and would not bite into the wood like they should. That and I had to remove one and start over 3 different times. I was getting frustrated and I started praying and having this conversation with God. I was saying stuff like, "Why does everything have to be so hard for me? Why can't things just be easy? God please just make the stupid screw go in the wood!" Sorry, but that is how I pray and talk to God. I am just real with Him.

At one point I got so frustrated a threw the screw driver down, said a few curse words and screamed, "I give up God!" I swear I heard God say back to me as clear as if He were standing in front of me, "Aren't you glad I didn't give up on you so easily? See, I knew how beautiful you were underneath all that gunk. I knew what beautiful jewels and treasures were still inside of you. They are still there when you open your heart let them out for people to see." Obviously, that was golden two-by-four up side my spiritual head. It made me stop and sit for a few minutes, just quiet, while the memories of the things God has carried and sometimes drug me kicking and screaming through flooded my mind.

In the span of my life I have been banged around, thrown away and shoved in a dark corner and forgotten. I have not been perfect by any stretch of the imagination. When I was young I was hell on wheels. Yet, the Lord never forgot me. See, all that tape and mountains of cling wrap was not put there to hide me or forget about me; God put it there to protect me until I made my way back to Him. It may sound weird, but God's grace is the Goo Be Gone I needed. It gets rid of gunk that accumulates over time very easily. His grace heals, restores and renews me when I let it in.

So, I am sitting here tonight with a thousand thoughts going through my head at once. My dad's little dog Baby Jake died today. It broke my stepmom's heart and mine too. I went and got her and we went to get Jake cremated. Then we came to my house and my son, daughter-in-love and grandson came over. We ate, laughed and played amid the sadness in our hearts. Nothing big, just spending time together enjoying eachother. That was the oil of joy that I desperately needed for my sad heart today. The only thing that would have made it better would be for my daughter, granddaughters and mom to be here. I know I will see them soon though.

There is verse in the Bible that I love because it is me...

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.  II Corinthians 4:7-9

Tonight, I am reminded of the everlasting mercy and grace of God and His indescribable love for us all. I will never look at my jewelry armoire the same again.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there, but most especially to my mom. I love you momma!!

Thoughts on Grief

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

5/4/22

I had brain surgery in December 2020. I was barely recovered from that and my mom nearly died last summer. Then my stepdad died of COVID in the middle of my mom being so sick from an infection after major surgery. I had to move her from Florida to Oklahoma in with me. That was no easy task. I no sooner got her settled in and my father got real sick. He had knee surgery that turned into an infection.

I worked from home every day and then would go take care of my dad all evening and sometimes all night. He was in/out of hospitals. This started November last year. Somewhere in the middle of this nightmare he contracted COVID while in the hospital. Between the massive infection and COVID it tore my father's body apart. I was with him through it all even though it tore my heart to pieces. He made his transition to the arms of the Lord on February 11th. I held his hand till he died.

My family is a twisted up dysfunctional mess. Death brings out the ugly in people and it sure brought it out in mine, who by the way were nowhere to be found when my father was sick and dying. I helped my stepmom with my father's cremation and memorial service. Everyone who was not there to help my dad before he died suddenly had an opinion on his service. My stepmom shut them all down and put me in charge since I was the oldest. Horrible lies were spread on social media by the dysfunctional ones. They said that we had COVID and were hoping to infect people with it at the memorial service. It obviously was not true, but it scared alot of people away. I officiated the memorial service since we couldn't find anyone else. It was small, intimate and heartbreakingly beautiful.

There are days that I feel okay and can keep myself distracted with various things to do. Then there are the days that grief grabs me by the throat and slams me to the ground over and over again. The things that have helped me hold on every day are my relationship with my God and my kids and grandkids. I pray all the time, not because I'm so holy and put together; but because I am a wretched human being that is falling apart inside most days. I try to remember to be still and know that He is God, He is there with me in the midst of the sorrow and I watch for hellos from Heaven. Grief is a journey that we all experience differently but it helps to shoulder the burden together so I reach out to others when I need help. I try to remember that I am not alone and remind myself of something a dear friend always tells me...don't forget to breathe. 🙏🏼❤️🙏🏼

Goodbye Too Soon

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard 

4/25/22

I was going through some unpacked boxes today and found this. I did not know when I made this print back in 2004 that it would mean so much to me now. Even the title speaks to my heart. My father was in the Navy. This is the picture in my heart of what it felt like to say goodbye to him when he died. I wanted to hold on to him forever. Yet, he is the one still holding me from the other side. I love you daddy!! ❤️

Leading My Daddy Home

Leading My Daddy Home 

Easter 2022

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard 

16 years ago my granddaughter Zoey died and I thought that I would never feel the depths of sorrow and despair like I did with her. Boy was I wrong. Do not misunderstand me, I am very grateful that God chose me to lead my father home. Yet, it came with a heavy price inside my heart.

I was there with him through the longest journey in our lives together. It lasted over 3 months. All I did was work all day and go take care of him all evening and night every single day. There were happy times, very beautiful times and sad times.

The night before he died God told me, "Take off work tomorrow, you have to be with him to lead him home." I did just that even though it felt as if my heart was being torn apart. There is nowhere else I would have been. I loved him that deeply. 

I held his hand the whole time, he never let it go. I remember looking into his eyes just before he passed. I never realized what beautiful, captivating blue eyes he had until that moment. We locked eyes and he looked into my heart and I into his. I told him to go home, that it was okay, I would be fine and I would find my way back to him again some day. Then he took his last breath and made his transition to the arms of God.

I have no doubt that he is happy. He is at peace and free of the illness that plagued him on this side. I understand he is the blessed one and the tears I cry are for me. I am the one left here in this crazy world and it feels like my dad is a million miles away. Yet, I would not trade a moment of spending my father's last days with him for anything. I feel grateful and humbled at the thought that my Creator chose me to lead my father home. 

I am sorry I am rambling. I think I am just beginning to process it all and understand the sacred, holy, spiritual experience I went through with my father. Maybe I will not fully comprehend the magnitude of the journey we took together until I make it to Heaven with him some day. I do not know. I just feel so completely grateful that we were together through it all and I could help lead my daddy home.

I Heard Your Cry

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard 

Easter 2022

Painting is very spiritual to me. It is as if I am at the feet of God's throne and the painting paints me instead of me painting it. This painting is one that God painted for me. While I was painting it I kept focusing on the Lord's ear. I didn't understand why so, I asked why. Lord, what are you trying to tell me? Then I heard Jesus say loud and clear, "I heard your cry!" Hence the title for this painting...I Heard Your Cry.

This weekend of all times throughout the year, this image means more to me than ever. 

"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?"

I'm so grateful God loves me because of who HE is and not who I am.  Holy, Holy, Holy is my Lord and Savior Jesus!!!

Just BE with Me

April 16, 2022

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

I just want this pain

To stop

Losing you

Broke my heart

My mind

And spirit

Like I have never

Known before

I keep grasping

For someone

To throw me

A life jacket

And pull me out of the

Waves of grief

That thrash my body around

And keep sucking me

Into the deep

Everyone keeps telling me to

Pull it together

Get on with life

Get back to normal

Yet when I try

I am like a bumbling bull

In a China closet

Because nothing

Feels normal right now

When I reach out for

Those around me

Who supposedly

Love me the most

I get slapped down

And pushed away

Because grief is

Not all pretty

Or put together

It is ugly

And hideous to see

Much less be the one

Trying to get through it

One breath at a time

Till I am free

Whatever happened to

Tenderness

Compassion

Comfort

Kindness

And unconditional love

All I need is

Those closest to me

To listen

To just be there

Just BE with me

Hold me when I cry

Love me in spite of me

Help me get through

These devastating

Waves of sorrow

Tears do not come

When it is convenient

They overtake me

Out of nowhere

I go spinning

I lose my footing

And I feel lost

So instead of

Criticizing me

Telling me

I am crazy

Be strong

That life goes on

Please just love me

And hold on to me

Through this

Tsunami of grief

Until I can stand

On my own again

48 Days

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

March 31, 2022

Daddy,

It's been 48 days since you died. It doesn't get easier. With each day my heart aches even more. I tried so hard to take care of you and get you well. You weren't supposed to die!! Everything is falling down around me and I need to hear your voice tell me that you love me and you're proud of me again.I miss coming over every Saturday, bringing KFC and having discussions about everything and nothing with you at the same time. Despite our rocky beginning in life, we finished good and strong together. You were my best friend, my safety net in my chaotic life. I'm sure that those who have kicked me when I'm down are basking in some twisted joy at the grief and sorrow I'm in right now. All they cared about was money that never existed. I never cared about material stuff, I just loved you...good, bad and ugly...I just loved you. I still do.

Today, the waves of sorrow are sucking me down deep. It's so hard to breathe. My life jacket is frayed and worn. All I can do is body surf the waves and pray I live through it. I keep reaching for God's hand, hoping He'll pull me up. I just don't feel Him yet.

You were the oldest just like me and I know you tried to prepare me for what life brings to the oldest. It's lonely when your the oldest because everyone expects so much and gives so little back. They think the oldest can handle anything because they're strong. They get mad when the oldest is weak and needs help. They take and take and never give back. When there's nothing left to give they leave the oldest drowning in the waves. At least that's how our family is.

Daddy, as I became an adult, got sober and we worked through our stuff together, you became my safe place to land in this crazy world. It feels like I've went skydiving and my parachute won't open. I have no safe place to land anymore! I'm so weak and tired. I would give anything to just sit and hold your hand all evening again. I don't know how to get through this other than 1 second, 1 minute, 1 day at a time.

I know I told you in the last minutes of your life to go home to God, that I'd be okay. I'd get through it. Right now, it feels like I lied because I miss you so bad. I know I'll get through this wave, I have to so I make you proud. I know God will grab my hand and pull me through eventually.

In the end the only thing that survives is the love we shared.The depth of sorrow I feel is the price I pay for loving you so much...and the greatest of these is love.

Love you forever Daddy,
Andi ❤

Goodbye My Daddy

1:28am February 16, 2022

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

I got a thousand things running through my mind

It feels like peace I'll never find

I kept holding on to the hope that you'd pull through

Yet it wasn't meant to be

I'd give anything to just sit and hold your hand all evening

And pray with you again

I don't know how to get back up from horrid blow

I don't understand why you suffered so

Or why you had to go

How am I supposed to keep living

When I've lost my best friend

My voice of wisdom in the chaos of my life

My hero, the one who always had my back

Through thick and thin

I stood there by you and held your hand

While your heartbeat slowed

And you took your breath

I was forced to let you go

I don't know how to get back up from this

Yet I look at my children and grandchildren

And I know why I'm still here

The last thing you told me was

Take care of everyone

I love you

I know...love never fails

Life isn't fair

And Heaven is so far away

Yet one breath close

So my sweet daddy

Till we meet again at God's throne

Please send me signs once in awhile

So I know that you're still with me

In the love we shared

Goodbye my Daddy

Till we meet again

Ramblings About Adventure, Elephants and Turtles

Ramblings About Adventure, Elephants and Turtles 

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard 

I am not sure what lesson or workshop this would correspond to. Honestly, I do not think it matters. What matters is what I am hearing and seeing from my Creator aka the Universe. When I started this adventure with Mike Dooley and all the other participants I had no expectations. I literally entered this on a whim. I had been feeling excited and happy because I was just able to purchase my own home in November 2021. When I read Mike’s description of the course and listened to his video about manifesting it clicked with me. See, I know I manifested my home. I said a prayer and started knocking on doors. Like Mike says, knock on one door and maybe a different one will open. 

My credit score is in the 500s. If you were to look at my situation with what I call fleshly eyes it was impossible to qualify for a mortgage and pointless to try. Yet, when I looked at it from my spiritual eyes something pushed me to take  action. Weird as it sounds, it felt as if all the stars and planets were aligned and I had to pursue this or I would miss the opportunity altogether. So, I kept knocking on doors. Something in my heart said get completely approved first. I applied at several  different mortgage places and got the door slammed in my face. I kept knocking on doors. Finally, after about a month, to my amazement, I found a place that was able to get me approved up front before I even started looking!! 

I found a realtor that was willing to work hard for me. We looked all spring and summer last year. We looked at least 2 or 3 evenings a week and on Saturdays. We looked at probably at least 10 houses a week. I put in several offers that got declined because of the crazy housing market where I live. Every time I was declined my realtor would say, “Don’t lose hope Andrea. We just haven’t found the one that is yours yet. My job is to help you get your dream come true…your forever home.” Now  I would be lying if I said I never got discouraged. I most certainly did. Yet, I kept “acting as if”. I figured it was only a matter of time before I found the home God had for me. 

The very moment I stepped into the home I eventually bought, this incredible peace and overwhelming joy came over me like a warm blanket being wrapped around me after coming in from shoveling snow on a cold, winter day. It just felt right, like I had always been there or was there before lifetimes ago. Another thing that I found interesting is that it is located right across the street from the elementary school that I attended as a child. That was the happiest time in my childhood. I had a very dysfunctional childhood  and right after we moved from this school my life turned very bad and I was abused. It has taken many years of therapy, meditation and other tools to recover from it. There have been many times in my life that I wished I could go back to that school where I felt safe, loved and at peace. That is exactly how I feel in my home now. 

If you would have asked me where my forever home would be I would have never chosen this one on my own. I would have been in a different part of town altogether. Yet, God knew my heart  better than I did and gave me something “OR BETTER”. For the first time in many, many years I feel at peace and I have this level of happiness and joy inside me that is not shaken by the outside chaos in my life. I am so grateful to God for giving me and leading me to this home. 

When I saw Mike’s invitation to this workshop and I heard him say “manifest” I knew I had to step through the door that just opened. He said things that explained what I had just been through with finding my home. So, I signed up. I am  the type of “student” that is always current with my assignments and one step ahead if possible. That has not been the case with this workshop. I have been two steps behind most of the time. It was troubling to me but I have kept going at what I described is “as slow as a turtle”. Remember my reference to the turtle, you will understand it in a few. Anyway, I have taken stolen moments to myself when I can to listen Mike’s videos and do the assignments in the workbook. I am still not caught up but I decided the other day to just accept it and  keep going along through the course.

I am Native American of the Cherokee tribe and from the Wolf Clan. I believe that God uses animals to speak to me in different ways. I have experienced things with birds, cats, squirrels, wolves, etc. I have always loved elephants and have collected them my whole life. For many years I could not display my entire collection of elephants because I had no room. I kept them wrapped up in boxes and drug them around with me every time I moved. The home God gave me has the most beautiful shelves and we added more. The other day I finally got all my elephants on display again!! This has gotten my creative juices going again. 

I have a patio door on the back wall of my living room and I got the idea to get rid of the patio vertical blinds. I hate them because they fall out all the time. So, I started looking for some privacy film online. One click lead to another and I stumbled on the coolest looking mural made out of the same kind of film that I could put on the patio door windows. I am an artist and I like things that are quirky and strange, yet beautiful. This one mural caught my eye. It has three elephants that look like they are standing under a tree and they are riding on the back of a sea turtle in the ocean. 

The imagery and symbolism of the mural grabbed my heart and I saved it to show my stepmom. She is an artist and Native American as well. The first thing she said was, “Oh my God, Andrea!! The turtle is very sacred to Native Americans. It  is used in so many stories. This is so awesome! The Creator is speaking to you through the turtle.” I got goose bumps everywhere and started thinking of the work I have been doing in Mike’s workshop. I had to study the symbolism of the turtle now!!

Turtles represent wisdom, healing, spirituality, safety, protection, health and longevity to most tribes. In particular, Cherokees see the turtle as a symbol of unfailing devotion and steady progress. Turtles are also seen as contributing to creation. All I can say is my mind is blown! My maiden name is Native American. It is Tadpole, another water animal. All this symbolism around me is as if the Universe is alive and speaking to me everywhere I turn! 

The reason I have not gone as “fast” as I think I should  through this workshop is because I am caring for my mother who lives with me while she recovers from back surgery. I am also having to help my father who has two bad infections. NO, it is not COVID. He has been in the hospital for a couple of months now. I always pray a prayer of protection over him, my mom, my stepmom and myself. I realized the Universe is trying tell me that my family and I are being protected so slow down and trust the process.

Realizing what the Universe is trying to tell me through the turtle is so comforting and honestly makes me want to dance around the house in joy!! I cannot wait to see what else this adventure teaches and brings me!!

What Can I Say About My Mom?

What Can I Say About My Mom?

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

What can I say about my mom?
She is my best friend
My confidant
My voice of peace
In the chaos of my life
She is my guiding light
Back to the One who loves us all
As a child she comforted me
And bandaged my wounds
As a woman she has been
My oil of joy for mourning
My garment of praise
For the spirit of heaviness
That often plagues me
She knows me better than anyone else
She is the voice of prayer, healing and love
Over the phone every day
Despite being miles away
At the end of my life
If I can look back and know
That I have been as good a mom as mine
Then I will know I have done well
Yet I know that will never happen
Because her shoes are too big to fill
In spite of her tiny feet
I only hope I can make her proud
I love you momma ❤

Alice Tarrant I love you more than I have words to say. Have a beautiful Mother's Day today. We will be together again soon.

~ Andrea ~

My Dog Buster

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

I have to tell you the story of my dog Buster aka Dave aka Chucky. I was devastated when my dog Reggie died last September. Then things went bad with my fractured leg and brain surgery in December. It has been quite a tough row to hoe for me. I started feeling better and began looking for another dog a couple of months ago but doors kept slamming in my face. A week or so ago I saw a dog named "Dave" on ARFs website. The ad said his owner turned him in because they were too sick to care for him. I met "Dave" last week and loved him. I got to pick him up Monday. I finally got around to putting tags on his collar today and realized the tag from his previous owner was till there. The owner's phone number and the name Chucky was on engraved on it.

I know from how well taken care of and how friendly Buster is that whoever gave him to animal welfare did not do it easily. I am sure their heart was broken. So, I texted the number on the tag and asked if they use to have a dog named Chucky. A couple of hours later an elderly sounding lady called me. I explained to her how her dog came into my life and how much I love him. She burst out in tears and told me how much she loved her dog but that she was unable to walk or care for him anymore. She said it broke her heart to give him up but she prayed that God would bring someone to love him and care for him. I told her that we could stay in touch and someday soon Buster and I would come visit her. She said that would be wonderful.

The lady also told me that Buster is very smart. She said she was diabetic. She explained that even though he wasn't trained to, he could sense when her blood sugar would get too low and alert her and he even woke her up at night if needed. I told her about Reggie, my hearing dog that died. We talked for a few minutes like long lost friends.

I know that God has a plan for us all and He even cares for animals. It's strangely beautiful how Buster and I clicked at once as if we always knew each other. He just fits right in my life. God made his previous owner's path cross with mine too. I believe it was for a reason. If for nothing more than to soothe a tired woman's heart with the reassurance that her beloved pet was safe and loved in his new home.

One last thing...

Not everyone who surrenders a pet to animal welfare does it because they hate the animal. Sometimes they have no choice, as in this case. So, if you're looking for a pet, pray and look for one to adopt. God will lead you to one who needs you as much as you need them.

My Thoughts About My Higher Power

Meetings, helping others, doing your daily work, reading the book so that your not an empty vessel is only the tip of the iceberg in staying sober. I personally had to change my whole friggin life! For me, the most important and most difficult part of my recovery in the beginning was the spiritual part. Yet, God blessed me with a sponsor who demanded I find a Higher Power because she, nor anyone else in the rooms, especially men were not my High Power. She drove into me the reality that if I chose to try and stay sober without a Higher Power I'd be screwed because I would surely drink again and for me, to drink is to die. So, I have studied every religion I could find. I've read a plethora of books on spirituality, meditation, etc. I even at one point practiced white magic. All on my journey to find my Higher Power. The damndest thing happened on my road of recovery, I had a powerful spiritual awakening. My Higher Power came to me and saved my life. This was about 5 years sober. My Higher Power turned out to be the One I avoided for so long, the God of my childhood faith. Today my Higher Power has many names. Among my favorites are Adonai, Abba Father, Jehovah Jira, Jehovah Rapha, El Shaddai, Elohim, and of course Jesus. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a churchy person. Organized religion left a bad taste in my mouth many times. I frankly stay away from church so I can hold on to my relationship with the Lord. If you need church go for it, just don't judge me for not going. Many a bigot sets in church and will never make it to the pearly gates. I don't ever find myself so arrogant as to force my spiritual beliefs on anyone. What I do is point the way for them to start their own journey. Where one ends up is up to them. The 12 steps are not something we work once and graduate. They are a lifelong endeavor. I worked the steps over and over until the steps worked me. Now they are who I am. I only hope and pray that others find their own way too. Sadly, most do not and they go back out and die. I'm not willing to take that risk today.

My Thoughts on Racism

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard 

March 13, 2021

This was something I wrote in response to a Facebook post on racism:

I totally understand outrage at people disrespecting the flag. I also understand the outrage of racism. I personally think anyone who burns the flag should be arrested and sit in jail for it. Burning it is the ultimate disrespect to our country and our soldiers who fought under that flag. Kneeling during the anthem has never been offensive to me. I figure it's a form of prayer to God for our nation and frankly God is the only one who can help us at this point. Having said all that, your comment brought to my my mind the following. Racism is not just a white and black thing. People act as if Blacks are the only ones discriminated against. That is so not true. 

Racism exists in this country against many colors. I personally lived with a man from El Salvador for many years. He came here legally and became a citizen. He had a job at a local college in the cafeteria. He worked with several self proclaimed African Americans. They used racial slurs against him every day. He was called a "wet back" and told to "swim back" all the time. They called him a "monkey" because he "looked like one". He went to HR and asked for help and filed a complaint. Nothing was done. He was harassed worse to the point that he walked off the job and never looked back. How was that okay? If you do not want to be discriminated against it would seem to me you shouldn't do it to others. Yet it happens every day. I think the term is reverse discrimination. Frankly, nothing you could say to justify it would make it ok in my mind. Racism is wrong no matter where it comes from.

I used to spend a lot of time in the Eastern US, in particular Pittsburgh, PA. I was shocked at the segregation and racism there on all sides. My husband at the time happened to be Polish and lived in the "Polish" part of the city. Any time we would venture out to a different part be in white, Italian, Black, Hispanic, Asian, etc you could count on the fact that someone would start telling Pollock jokes. You know, "how many Pollocks does it take to" whatever. I would be ready to kick ass and take names and my husband would pull me back and tell me to ignore it. Half the time he would laugh at the jokes just to make the racist idiots go away. So, how is racism couched in funny jokes ok? In my opinion they're not.

I myself have experienced racism within my own Native American tribe because I look "too white". Yet, I have proof some of my ancestors died on the Trail of Tears. Did you happen to know that Native Americans are the only race in the US that has to carry an ID proving they are Native American? How messed up is that? What if African Americans had to do that? It wouldn't be pretty would it? Also, my Native American grandfather who was not racist at all taught me to love all people. He was alive during the Oklahoma land rush and lived to be 104. He told me one time that he remembered when there was the white and black restrooms and sections in restaurants. He said while he did not agree with any of it, but at least Blacks had a section, water fountain, restroom, etc. Native Americans were treated like dogs and not allowed anywhere. How is this so easily forgotten?

My point is Blacks, African Americans or whatever you choose to describe them as are not the only ones to experience racism. Racism runs deep across ALL races and is insidious in this country. It will not stop until ALL RACES, African American included stop doing it.

Rant over....

The Little Things

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

February 2, 2021

As most of you know, I had major brain surgery on December 28th last year. They went up through my nose so if you look at me you cannot tell. The recovery journey for me has been very difficult. I was afraid I would be a vegetable or something after surgery. I am grateful that I woke up with all my faculties, I can walk and I have my memory.

The worst part of my recovery has been the headaches, brain fog and horribly debilitating fatigue. I am the kind of person that works 40 to 50 hours a week, buys groceries, cleans, cooks, visits my dad and my son when I can. I love to go running around town with my 2 oldest granddaughters, get my nails done and stuff like that. I am always doing something and rarely sit still. This surgery has forced me to stay down and rest. I have actually taken naps every day. I did not even do that when I was a child, much less as an adult.

My Neurosurgeon said the headaches, fog and fatigue would slowly start to lift in about 6 six weeks after surgery. I am coming up on that time. In the last few days my thinking has started to clear. Thank God, I hate brain fog! I have started feeling a little more like myself. I am nowhere near 100% but I am slowly making progress and progress is good.

I have begun to truly understand how important it is to be grateful and take joy in the little things. A couple of days ago I was hungry one evening and my husband had not cooked yet. He has cooked, cleaned and done laundry for me almost every day since my surgery. I wanted to fix something for him so he could rest. I started thinking about what I could cook that would be easy and would not require me to stand up long. I decided on grilled cheese sandwiches. I was so proud of myself when I got done making them. Today, my husband took me to get my hair cut and I dyed it myself this evening. It made me feel good to do a couple of small things to take care of myself.

Most people, even me, would think those are just little things. However, I remember years ago, when I first got sober my sponsor telling me and my mom also reminded me the other day that every little step I take will eventually turn into a big step. I can see in the pictures I included with this how far I have come. The one with the strings in my nose was after surgery and the other was today. I am getting better little by little day by day.

So, tonight I am celebrating the little things. Besides I love hair dye because it hides the gray!! 😊

My Rainbow Reminder Today

By Andrea Tadpole-Broussard

January 30, 2021

I made myself get out and go to the store around the corner today. It is the first time I have gotten out in a while. On the way to the store I was praying. I tend pray in the car alot. So, I was asking God to please make a way for me through all this recovery from this brain surgery. It has been a scary, hard road. I said, "Lord bring me through it, around, over it, under it, part the red sea...whatever, just please get me well already!!" About that time I came to a 4-way stop, I looked to my left for traffic and there in the sky was a rainbow in the middle of some clouds. I pulled over to snap a picture so I would not forget the moment. Then, on the way home storm clouds were getting close. I got about a half a block from home and there was another rainbow!! I pulled over and snapped another picture.

I got home and looked back to where I knew the rainbow was. I could not see it because it was blocked by houses and trees. Yet, I knew it was there. It gave me a warm and peaceful feeling inside. We all know that rainbows are a sign of God's promise to Noah, but I also see them as a promise to me. A reminder that He's always there and never going to leave me. Even when the worldly clamors and trials of life block my view, just like these rainbows today, God is always there, whether I see Him or not. I just have to keep the faith and take the next step.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKEY

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKEY 

Today, January 30th is my grandson Michael Aidyn Jude Zelsnack's 13th birthday. I always called him Mikey. He was stillborn. He has a little brother named Michael who just turned 2. He proudly bares the name Michael from his older brother. They are both named after their grandfather and great grandfather who are both in Heaven now. Mikey is there with them, his big sister Zoey and a host of other family and friends who have made their final trip to Heaven too.

I am one who believes when we die our spirits do not lay around in a grave. Our spirits go to Heaven where we are welcomed home by the Lord, God and all those who died before us. Call me crazy but that is what my heart tells me and that is what I will believe till I die. 

A day does not go by without me thinking about my grandchildren, those still here on this earth and those is Heaven. I have a few grandchildren in Heaven, not just Michael and Zoey. There are others who I never got to meet due to miscarriages. Yet, they were all alive and a part of me and I love them with all my heart. 

I know Mikey must be so beautiful! I can only imagine the party his grandfather and great grandfather are throwing for him. And in the presence of Lord?! Nothing could be better than that!! Every year on Mikey's birthday I stop and remember him. I post a poem I wrote for him. It's at the end of this. 

Happy Birthday my beautiful Mikey! Tell Zoey and all the others how desperately I miss you all. I love you!

Ode to Mikey

by Andrea Tadpole

Written on Apr 14, 2010

Born on a stormy sea of silence

His tiny life beyond my grasp

His spirit carried away on angel's wings

With all my hopes and dreams

I never got to see him smile

I never saw his eyes

I never felt his tender touch

Or listened to his cries

Waves of sorrow pulled me down

To horrid depths of grief

I feared I'd never reach the top

Breathe free or find relief

What was his purpose

Why was he here

Why was he meant to be

There had to be a lesson

If I could only see

Then I heard him in the silence

Calling out my name

Rise up, go home and live your life

Walk on amidst the pain

Take care of those I've left behind

Never let them go

Forgive them even if it hurts

And when your pride says no

Hold tight to God

Keep the faith

And then you'll see

That I am always with you 

I am happy

I am free

Biden's Inauguration Today 1/20/21

I have not posted much lately. I had brain surgery on 12/28/20. It's been a long road and slow recovery. I'll explain more later. I wanted to post my favorite part of Biden's Inauguration so I don't lose it. This young poet is phenomenal. I wish I could write like her. 

Any country that can produce Amanda Gorman is a country with a bright future.  #AmandaGorman.  She is twenty-two years old. Enjoy the read...😊

When day comes, we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never-ending shade?

The loss we carry.

A sea we must wade.

We braved the belly of the beast.

We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace, and the norms and notions of what “just” is isn’t always justice.

And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it.

Somehow we do it.

Somehow we weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.

We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.

And, yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.

We are striving to forge our union with purpose.

To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters, and conditions of man.

And so we lift our gaze, not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.

We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside.

We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.

We seek harm to none and harmony for all.

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true.

That even as we grieved, we grew.

That even as we hurt, we hoped.

That even as we tired, we tried.

That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.

Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid.

If we’re to live up to our own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made.

That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb, if only we dare.

It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit.

It’s the past we step into and how we repair it.

We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation, rather than share it.

Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.

And this effort very nearly succeeded.

But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated.

In this truth, in this faith we trust, for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us.

This is the era of just redemption.

We feared at its inception.

We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour.

But within it we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves.

So, while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe, now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be:

A country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free.

We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation, become the future.

Our blunders become their burdens.

But one thing is certain.

If we merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright.

So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left.

Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest, we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.

We will rise from the golden hills of the West.

We will rise from the windswept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution.

We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states.

We will rise from the sun-baked South.

We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.

And every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful.

When day comes, we step out of the shade of flame and unafraid.

The new dawn balloons as we free it.

For there is always light,

if only we’re brave enough to see it.

If only we’re brave enough to be it