Why the blog?

I write as the Spirit moves me. I have prayed about what I'm supposed to do with my life a lot. A lot. Writing. Writing is what I believe God is leading me to do. Whether or not He wants me to write for anyone to read is His business. Much of my writing has been therapy for me so maybe I'm the only one who is supposed to read it. So, why the Blog? As a sounding board, a note pad, a place to keep my ideas and thoughts. A place to share and promote my books, and photography. Written prayers, a place to vent. Possibly, even a place for the unknown reader to learn about the love of Jesus.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

In My Head 2.3

Part 3 of the airplane dream:

An orderly wheeled Erin back into her new room.  This time it was occupied by a large black man whose leg was held together with a metal frame.  The other person was a tall, dark-haired doctor. 

"Hey, it's Lucky," the patient said to the doctor.

"Your doctors thought you should have a roommate," said the orderly.

"Hi.  I'm Sean."

"Who is Lucky?" asked Erin.

"You, of course," answered the doctor.  "Since you don't have a name, the nurses started calling you Lucky."

"Seriously? My body is being held together with coat hangers and you think I'm lucky?" Erin was perturbed. 

"By all rights you should be dead," said Sean.  "No one survives falling out of an airplane."

"Just because I'm breathing doesn't make me lucky," said Erin. "Why are you here?"

"Hard tackle. I play pro football.  Broke my leg in several places."

"You're alive. Does that make you lucky? Could be a career-ending injury."

"His helmet protected his head," began the doctor, "so I would say yes. He is fortunate he only broke a leg.  Luck is more of an attitude and how you deal with your situation."

Erin thought about what the doctor said. He had a good point.  Just then the door opened and in walked her doctor. 

The two doctors greeted each other then they turned to Erin.

"I have just met with the radiologist.  We can take the hardware out everywhere except your hands.  However you will need braces on your feet and arms."

"What about..." Erin motioned towards her face.

"All that's coming off as well."

Erin nodded, happy with the news.  "Then what?"

"Therapy. That's why you've been moved to the orthopedics wing. You start therapy tomorrow."

"Is he one of my doctors now?" Erin pointed to the other doctor.

"No," he answered.  I work with professional athletes."

Erin cocked her head in thought. She wanted to say something but couldn't quite formulate the words that went with a brief memory.  "Will my therapy be in the same place as the athletes?"

"Some will."

Later that day Erin was taken back to the OR where her hardware was removed.  When she awoke from the anesthesia, back in her room, several large athletic-looking men were sitting next to Sean.  They had not noticed she was awake  She looked around at her body which was covered with a blanket. The tell-tale signs of metal was gone. Just to make sure, Erin lifted an arm.  "Oh, God!" she exclaimed when she felt the pain from moving stiff, atrophied muscles."

"Hey, Lucky's awake," said one of the men. 

"You okay? Want me to call a nurse?" asked Sean.

"I'm okay.  I feel different." Erin reached her hand towards her face, but didn't have the strength.  The sight of the pins in her fingers and the realization that her facial bandages were gone made her extremely uncomfortable. 

"You look great," Sean tried to reassure her.

Erin was unable to respond.

"I don't know what you looked like before," said one of the men, "but you don't need to be embarrassed."

"Maybe we should go," said another who led the way out the door.

 "Who we're they?"

"My teammates.  I'm sorry we woke you."

"Its okay."

Thankfully, a nurse and an orderly walked in and broke the awkward silence.   The nurse checked Erin's IV then she was wheeled out to a large room with a giant bathtub.  Erin was strapped into a harness and lowered into the tub where she was gently bathed.  Even thought it was painful, Erin was grateful to be clean.  After the bath she was dressed in a clean gown, robe, and slippers.  The nurse told her the catheter would have to stay a little longer.  Erin was then wheeled into a gym-like room, placed on a low, padded table. She looked around the room at all of the equipment and patients. Sean was sitting on a bench with some sort of equipment hooked up to his broken leg. 

A therapist introduced herself then began by lifting one leg and moving it up and down ten times.  She repeated with the next leg and both arms.  Thus, the therapy began. 


Wednesday, October 26, 2011

In My Head, 2nd story.2

(this is part 2 to the second dream story)
"How are you feeling?" asked the doctor as he looked over Erin's body.

"You tell me." Erin noticed her face felt stiff and scratchy as she tried to speak.

"First, I'd like to ask you a couple questions." The doctor sat on a stool and looked into Erin's eyes.  "What is your name? Tell me what you remember about your accident."

Name? They didn't know who she was. And she had been in a coma for a while. Erin closed her eyes; she didn't want to remember. If they didn't know, she wasn't going to force her brain to remember whatever horrible thing that put her in this condition. 

"Don't worry," the doctor said, "it'll come back in time."


The doctor asked Erin a few questions she was willing to answer, such as where she was, the year, who the president was, her address and parents names.  From the look on the doctor's face, she got some of the answers wrong. 

"My turn," said Erin.  "What happened?"

"You had an accident."

"Obviously. Care to be specific?"

The doctor sighed, then began the list, "You were in a plane crash. A very unusual plane crash. In short, you broke bones in your hands, arms, face, pelvis, ribs, and feet.  You also had severe damage to your spleen, liver, intestines...."

"Okay, okay, I get it." Erin didn't want to hear anymore.  "What didn't break?"

"Your heart and your spirit to live."

That was a bit reassuring. 

"We have been trying to figure out who you are," the doctor continued.  "Because of your facial injuries we were unable to release a photo.  No one has come forward nor have any missing persons reports been a match."

"Don't the airlines keep records?"

The doctor explained the crash in a little more detail. 

"No way!" exclaimed Erin. "I hate to fly. There is no way I would be in a little plane."

"Well, that's all the police could come up with for an explanation.  Unfortunately, that plane and pilot haven't been located."

"That's weird," Erin was confused and didn't quite believe the doctor's story. 

"The news did a story about you, however, no one identified you.  They've been asking to do a follow up when you are able."


"Well, to find your family."

Erin looked up at the ceiling, unsure of what to do. 

"I don't see the point but I guess I'll do it," she said with a sigh as a tear leaked from her eyes. 

"Before we do, I need to talk to you about your prognosis."

Erin closed her eyes.  She didn't want to hear it.  Whatever he was about to say couldn't be good. 

"It can wait," said the doctor. 

The next morning, Erin was awakened by the nurse fussing about, checking her hardware, cleaning the wounds.    

"Do you have a mirror?" asked Erin. 

The nurse put her hands on her hips and looked at her in a motherly fashion. "Are you sure you want to do that?"


The nurse sighed, left the room, then returned a few minutes later with a large hand mirror.  She stood at the end of the bed, her bust heaved with another heavy sigh, then she slowly lifted the mirror.  

"Take it away!" cried Erin in horror.  She had been warned, but couldn't believe what she saw.  She looked worse than bride of Frankenstein.   Erin's face was completely bandaged except for her eyes and nose.  Tufts of scraggly hair poked out randomly from the bandages.  The rest of her body looked much worse than what she had been able to see without he mirror with metal rods poking through her skin and holding her body together.  "How am I alive?" she asked the nurse. 

"Prayer," she answered.  "A miracle and prayer."

"How much longer will I be like this?"

"You are due for x-rays soon. Tomorrow I think. The doctors will know then."

"Am I paralyzed?"

"No." The nurse touched Erin's toes. "Feel this?"

"Yes.  Will you do that all over?"

The nurse gently tapped her fingers along Erin's feet, legs, fingers and arms. Several places were painful, however, none were without feeling much to Erin's relief.  If she could feel then she would be able to move again, she decided.

Later that morning, Erin was sedated for her x-rays and CT scans.  The doctor said it would be too painful for such a long procedure.  Erin really hadn't been in much pain to this point.  She thought it was perhaps because her body had gotten used to its current condition.  Or, it had healed enough.  In any event, she was not against pain prevention. 

When Erin awoke, she was in a new room, bed tilted with the head raised half way to a sitting position, with an empty bed beside her. A nurse was waiting at her bedside.

"Good afternoon, Miss," said the nurse.   "There are a bunch of reporters waiting to talk to you whenever you are ready."

"Today? Now."

"It's up to you.  Don't you want to find your family?"

"Sure." Erin thought if her family wanted to find her they would have by now. If she had family.  "How do I look?  Are my hair and make-up okay?"

The nurse laughed. "Glad you have your sense of humor intact. Be right back."

Minutes later Erin was wheeled into a large room.  Flash bulbs and bright lights temporarily blinded her.  A man in a suit spoke to the press, then to Erin. "Would you care to make a statement?"

"Um, sure," she began.  "I don't remember much so it won't do any good to ask questions.  I remember faces staring at me from a little window.  They might know what happened.   I'm told I'm not paralyzed.   I hope to get this metal out of me soon.   Maybe when they un-mummify my face you can take a picture.  Maybe, if someone doesn't recognize my voice, they'll recognize my face.  The doctors and nurses here are real nice.  I'll be glad to eat some real food soon, but I think I may be allergic to milk.  Don't know why I said that.   My face is hurting so...."

The man in the suit instructed for me to be taken out. The press started shouting questions, which Erin ignored. 

"How do I feel?" she thought when she heard the question.  "That's a stupid question. How do they think I feel? How would they feel?  I don't know how I feel, other than trapped.  I feel like a prisoner, a lab rat, an experiment gone wrong. Bride of Frankenstein trapped in hell.  I feel like I'm in a foreign body and someone has stolen my mind. I feel abandoned and hopeless and trapped and...and...scared! I feel scared!"

(This dream is a lot longer than I thought, but it's not over yet! Stay tuned.)

Sunday, October 23, 2011

In My Head, second story

"In My Head" this time is a completely unrealistic dream. Erin is afraid to fly. She would rather drive fourteen hours anywhere than drive to an airport. She befriends a man who owns a biplane. It is one of those old two-seaters you see in old movies where the pilot wears big round goggles, a leather helmet, and a long white scarf. He convinces Erin to take a ride in his airplane by promising her that she was in good hands. He was a very experienced pilot who had never had an accident. Even though Erin is apprehensive, nervous - afraid, she reluctantly agreed to go on a short ride. The pilot showed Erin every inch of the vintage airplane, from the propeller to the tail flaps. He then dressed her in the necessary leather helmet and goggles. As the engine revs, Erin gripped her seat tightly and tries keep from hyperventilating. The plane bounced down the runway then lifts off into the clear blue sky. Erin wanted to scream and throw up, however the blue sky and view of the landscape distracted her. She settled into her seat, relaxed a bit as the pilot lifts them higher into the sky. "Wanna do some tricks?" yelled the pilot over his shoulder. Erin objected vehemently, however, the pilot insists she must get the full experience of flight by doing a spin, a loop de loop, and other tricks. Reluctantly, Erin gave in. She tightened her seat belt, gets a death grip on her seat, and waited for the pilot to scare the life out her. The pilot sped up and did one spin on the plane's axis while Erin held her breath. She exhaled a few seconds after the plane stabilized. The pilot looked over his shoulder at her, gave a thumbs up, then drew a circular motion with his finger. Erin grimaced while her stomach turned a flip. Part of her wanted to demand the pilot to land. Another part, the 1% foolish part, wanted to stay and enjoy the scenery. The land disappeared as the plane turned skyward. Erin felt her heart stop beating briefly, then begin to pound loudly in her chest. She looked around at the sky. It was a beautiful bright blue. In the distance she saw what looked like another plane, but brushed the thought away...probably just a bird. A scream escaped her lips as the plane began its backwards turn. She looked around to try to get her bearings. Erin found the ground then sees it. Before being able to process what her eyes were glued to, Erin felt her body being sucked out of the biplane. She screamed and tried to reach down to grab the seatbelt. It tore away from the seat. Suddenly, Erin was free-falling towards the earth. Somehow, Erin managed to position herself face and abdomen facing the earth, arms and legs outstretched, like Superman. Thud!! Within seconds of her free flight, with her eyes shut tight, she landed on the wing of a 747 jumbo jet. As her hands grasped the edge of the wing she felt a searing pain in her face, hands, and throughout her entire body. With her eyes still shut tight she thought, "did I just hit the ground and live?" Painfully, Erin turned her head to the left and opened her eyes only to be face to face with a woman screaming through a small window. Several other people gather at the window to stare at her. "Oh my God," Erin exclaimed to herself. "I've landed on a plane!! What do I do now?" The people in the window point and yell. Were they trying to tell her something? Someone pressed a piece of paper to the window - "hold on, we're going to land ASAP." "Oh, sure. They're going to land," Erin moaned, "but I'm going to die." She turned her head, painfully, back to facing the wing and prepared herself to die. Her fingers are locked onto the airplane wing and she doesn't move even though she feels the force of the atmosphere pressing against her body. Erin's ears pop as the plane begins its descent. She knees as soon as it turned she would be sucked off the wing so she took a deep and painful breath and waited. Gradually, after what seemed like an eternity, Erin feels the plane slow even more. She looked to her right, with her eyes, and sees the earth. Trees, buildings. Erin tried to look left. The people in the window were still staring at her. A moment later she felt a small bump and instantly felt searing pain in her hands. "Are we on the ground?" she wondered. Sounds began to fill and hurt her head. Sirens, shouting, squealing breaks. Then voices shouting orders. "You're on the ground, miss! You made it!" Erin tried to speak but couldn't. The pain in her body became more evident. Her fingers were burning. "Try to let go, miss," he said, touching her hand. Erin let out a barely audible scream. "She can't move," the man said. "Try gently prying them off." "They'll break." "Probably already are. We got to get her down immediately," was the last thing Erin heard before blacking out. Muffled voices brought Erin out of her coma. She is unable to move any part of her body or open her eyes. "Uh, uh," she tried to speak but is unable. Her throat feels heavy. "Doctor, she's coming out of it." "Squeeze your eyes if you hear me," said a male voice. Erin squeezed her eyes and tried to open them but they were too heavy. She then tried to move her head, her fingers, her toes. Nothing moved. "She's coming around. Miss, If you can hear me squeeze your eyes again. Good. You're in the hospital. You had an accident and broke many bones, internal injuries. You have been in a coma for quite some time. Squeeze your eyes if you understand. Good. Don't try to speak. You've been intubated. When you're fully conscious we can take it out. Try to rest. I'll be back to check on you." Erin took a deep breath then fell back to sleep. Sometime later, when hearing voices in her room, Erin opened her eyes. Still unable to move, she looked around. Erin saw that her arms and fingers were held together with metal rods and wires that were sticking through her skin. A metal frame supported her torso and her legs were in casts. "I may as well be dead," thought Erin. "I'm completely broken." "Good morning," said a nurse. "I'll alert the doctor to see if we can get you extubated." Minutes later, the doctor arrived and the tubes were removed. A nurse had Erin sip some water from a straw. "Welcome back," said the elderly doctor with a broad smile. "What happened?" asked Erin. ....more next post....

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Sunday, October 9, 2011

In My Head.

In My Head. I love dreams. Daydreams, put myself to sleep dreams, even wake me up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat dreams. I love them because they are complete fantasy, not based on reality in any way. I can fly in dreams without getting sick. I can see underwater and not need my contacts. I can be tall and beautiful and perfect, courageous and a hero, or a celebrity with many talents in dreams. Maybe that's why I like Tolkien, Spielberg, and George Lucas. I like not having to do research or worry about "reality" such as location and laws and people thinking, "that could never happen." Fantastical fantasy but without the science fiction is in my head. Now I'd like to put it to paper. The very first dream that I can remember is one when I was around age 10. My family had just started going to church. Maybe I had religion on my mind. Perhaps other changes spurred on the dream. In any event, it was a recurring dream for many weeks. The large industrial room was dark, lit only by a few bare bulbs. The room was bare except for a long maze of conveyor belt. A cold, steel conveyor belt. Tied with rusty chains to the conveyor belt is a small, frail, 10-year-old girl. A figure cloaked in a black, hooded robe grins eerily as his arm reaches up to throw the switch. The little girl on the slowly moving belt screams and tries to break free. The cloaked figure laughs and taunts the little girl. She wiggles and twists and calls out for help. The cloaked figure follows from a distance, watching and waiting. She sees the danger as the belt turns a corner. Up ahead is a break, a small pause in the steel. Each end is lit up by a light bulb. The ends of the steel are razor sharp, like knife blades. Dangling just beneath the light bulb are ropes of chain. The little girl sees them and begins to wriggle and call out for help with more fury and determination. Moments before reaching the steel blades the little girl pulls her arms free. Again, she calls out for help. She screams out to the cloaked figure that he will not destroy her. The figure steps forward to secure his hold on the girl. Just before he reaches her, she reaches up, grabs the chains, swings her legs around and kicks the figure. He lands on the conveyor belt, onto the steel blades. The little girl once again calls out for help. The alarm clock rings and the dream ends.....for this night.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Actions speak louder

This morning, on a crisp, clear, almost cool, beautiful fall morning during my run while I searched my Ipod for a song to perk up my pace, I came across this song: 

too many black sheep in the family
too many stones from a house of glass
they've heard the story, they've heard the lines
but talk is too cheap to change their minds
they want to see some vital signs

convictions - in the way we live
convictions - not a narrative
actions speak a little louder than words

seen and not heard, seen and not heard
sometimes God's children should be seen and not heard
there's too much talk and not enought walk
sometimes God's children should be seen and not heard

delayed reaction to hostility
brings us into reality
cause when we answer in our defense
they can see through the false pretense
they want to see some evidence

commitment - no more alibis
commitment - not a compromise
actions speak a little louder than words


let your light so shine in all you do
with an answer near when they come to you
don't let your mouth start talkin'
until your feet start walkin'
 Words and music by Bob Hartman Based on Matthew 7:3, 5, James 1:2, Matthew 5:16

I've listened to this song many, many times.  However, this morning in the stillness of the day I really listened. People don't pay attention to the words of Christians nearly as much as they do our actions.  I like Matthew's version. I'll back up to verse 14: "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."

Do you profess Jesus?  If so "don't let your mouth start talkin' until your feet start walkin'".  

Be blessed, bless others.   

Colleen Wait Edits

Colleen Wait Edits

About Me

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This YouTube channel was created to add video to my blog.  Read it here:  www.colleenwaitwrites.blogspot.com.  I write about my life, my books, my family, my cats and kids, and of course travel.