I have purchased cards from Zazzle before and have been pleased with my purchases. The colors come out great and card materials are nice quality. There are different materials to choose from for the card stock when you place your order.
A collection of current products is shown below. The link will take you to my CherylsArt store on Zazzle.
I began this painting, using oval shapes, to design three Christmas ornaments. I was inspired to make a similar design that me and my family had created one Christmas. I had purchased clear plastic, see through Christmas balls from a craft store. I already had a variety of acrylic paint that was labeled for all surfaces, on hand. It is the acrylic paint that is made for crafting. I usually buy the Americana brand, but have been known to purchase whatever is available at the time.
We already had a portable clothes drying rack to hang the ornaments from while they dried.
The technique we used was to pour paint over the ornaments, in various colors, and let the paint flow and drip down onto the floor. I had covered the floor with newspaper ahead of time to catch the drippings.
Then you wait and let them dry. You can use regular hooks for hanging ornaments, or you can tie ribbons through the holes for hanging. I would wait until the paint as dried if you want to use ribbons.
I liked that we used a variety of colors that weren't necessarily traditional Christmas colors; which made this activity all the more fun and creative for me and my family.
Will you be making this fun activity part of your holiday activities? If so, do let me know in a comment below.
If you like this pretty paint pour design that I painted, you can check out the items already available in my collection. More items will be added as I design them, and if you have a request for it to be on a particular product that you want to purchase, do let me know that too. I'll be sure to design it and add it to the collection.
May all of your holidays be creative and have happiness in them too.
Cheryl Paton
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
Nearly 25 years ago, I wrote a poem/song lyrics called Hope is a Place. Back then, my days were filled with the joyful chaos of raising a family—work, school runs, endless to-do lists.
Life was busy, but beneath it all, I remember feeling this steady heartbeat of hope. I wrote that poem as a quiet reminder to myself: to keep giving, to keep believing, and to stay open to both the good and the hard parts of life.
Hope, in that season, was my way of giving back—to my children, my community, and to the woman I was becoming.
Does Hope Change With Age?
At 65, I realize that time hasn't changed the essence of hope —it has simply deepened.
Back then, I saw hope as a light that helped me face each day with purpose. Today, I see it as a gift we give ourselves in the moment we’re living.
Hope doesn’t just look forward—it wraps the present in gentleness, like a beautifully tied bow around the life we already have. It helps us stay here, now, while still allowing room for what might be waiting just beyond our view.
Is Hope About Getting What We Want?
Some people say that hope only leads to disappointment—that to hope is to risk being let down. I understand that view, because I’ve felt it too.
But I don’t believe hope’s purpose is to deliver a specific outcome. Hope, to me, isn’t a wish list or a guarantee—it’s the quiet belief that possibilities exist, even when we can’t see them yet.
When something we’ve hoped for doesn’t happen, it doesn’t mean hope has failed us. Sometimes it’s simply leading us somewhere new—to a fresh start, a different direction, or a door we didn’t even know was waiting.
What Does Hope Really Give Us?
Hope gives me energy.
It’s a current that runs through me and out into the world, hopefully touching others without my even realizing it.
I like to believe that when we hold onto hope, we emit something good—something bright. It doesn’t mean we’re always cheerful or unshaken; it just means that somewhere inside, we’re open. We’re willing to believe that light still exists, even when the day feels dark.
Hope, in that way, becomes both a gift to ourselves and to others—a reminder that unseen things can be the most powerful.
Hope and Love Coexist as Life’s Anchors
If love is the force that connects us, hope is the force that steadies us.
It’s the quiet anchor that keeps us grounded in the present while still allowing us to drift toward tomorrow.
Hope doesn’t erase the hard moments, but it helps us move through them. And when life feels joyful, it reminds us to savor those moments too—to recognize that hope isn’t only for when we’re lost. It’s also for when we’ve found something worth holding.
What Is Your Word? Mine is Hope.
There’s a belief that everyone should have a word—a word that somehow captures who they are at their core, or what they stand for.
A dear friend and I once talked about this, and ever since, my word has been hope. That same friend gave me a necklace engraved with the word, and I wear it every day as a gentle reminder.
Along with love, hope is the anchor that keeps me present, connected, and moving forward. It’s invisible, yet tangible. Elusive, yet powerful. And to me, hope truly is a place.
This article was inspired by my poem “Hope is a Place,” written nearly 25 years ago and included in my poetry book, where available, on Amazon.
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
I've Been Obsessed with Time Since I Was 8 Years Old
That sounds like a strange thing for an eight-year-old to say, doesn't it? But I remember it vividly.
I was eight, my brother was six, and we were trying to let Mom sleep in.
Our mornings were often filled with old Shirley Temple movies and wild imaginations. We'd turn a blanket into a "boat," grab canned goods from the kitchen, and pretend we were setting sail — sometimes to escape danger, sometimes just to explore.
One morning, standing in the hallway, I asked my brother a question that still echoes in my soul today:
"Why are you you and me me?"
He probably shrugged it off, eager to get back to our blanket boat, but that question never left me. Even at eight, I felt the weight of my own existence — this sense that "I" was something separate and conscious, and that somehow Time and existence were connected in ways I couldn't understand yet.
When Time Became a Fascination
As I got older, that awareness of Time grew into an obsession.
Not the kind that makes you late for appointments or stare at clocks (though I've done both), but the kind that makes you wonder: what exactly is Time?
I became drawn to time travel movies andstories that twisted the rules of reality and blurred the boundaries between "then" and "now." They weren't just entertainment for me — they were portals into possibilities. I didn't separate the spiritual from the scientific; I was open to it all.
Can we move through Time? Are we souls who return again and again? Or are we simply fleeting passengers on a one-way track? I never dismissed any of it — God, aliens, reincarnation, time loops, you name it — because every theory felt like it was reaching for the same truth.
Now, as an adult, I believe our souls are timeless. The "me" I felt at eight still feels like the "me" I am today — wiser maybe, but still that same spark.
The answer to "why are you you and me me?" has softened over the years into something beautifully simple: love and kindness are the only measures, Time is the vehicle. You are always you, and I am always me.
I've come to understand (for me) that we are always our spirit, always our consciousness, always us. It's never been a crap shoot, which is one of the things I felt at 8 years old, that I no longer feel at 65 years old.
No matter who we are, where we came from, or where we go, it's love and kindness that anchor us. When we step away from that, Time loses its purpose, the vehicle stalls — it just becomes noise in the background instead of a rhythm in our heart. The rhythm of growth NEEDS love, it NEEDS kindness. The rest IS noise that only slows our learning down.
Writing My First Poem About Time When I Was a Teenager in the 1970s
By seventeen, I could already feel Time slipping by. I remember taking the train from my small town to Toronto to visit a friend — about a three-and-a-half-hour ride. Somewhere along the way, watching the world blur past the window, I wrote a poem about Time.
It was the 1970s, and I was a teenager — but even then, I felt the strange ache of hours passing too quickly (crazy, I know! I was so young yet felt the ticking clock).
Later, in my thirties, I rewrote that same poem, layering it with the wisdom and wear that life had given me.
In my fifties, I revised it once more, adding even more perspective, as if each decade had given me a new lens through which to see Time.
If I am gifted more Time, will I revise the poem again? I think about that.
Below is that poem, one that has traveled with me for nearly 50 years now — a kind of map of how Time has shaped me.
TIME'S GIFT
Time heals Promising closure Shrinking scars like popping bubbles As it prepares our gift Time's benefaction is objectivity to our past Building an awareness of yesteryears Defogging our vision for truth Generously donating our package of clarity
Time lies only to those who misuse its precious moments, Lines entrenched on our face can devour redeemable blemishes By gracefully accepting our package healing eyes can widen to witness dissipating mist
Time promises blessed tomorrows Let us put away our spinning wheels plunge forward with our lesson accept our bequest from Time, and yes! We will have morning smiles
It's fair to say I've seen nearly every time-travel movie ever made.
I seek them out, not for the science fiction, but for the spiritual resonance they carry. There's something about them that feels true on multiple levels.
Many philosophers suggest that Time isn't linear — that everything, past and future, is happening all at once. Whether that's scientifically provable or not doesn't matter much to me. What matters is that it feels right.
The only real Time that exists is this moment — the present.
When I first read that idea, I couldn't quite grasp it.
"What do you mean, only the present exists?" I'd think. We have memories, plans, regrets, and hopes — of course, Time is more than just the present.
But as I've aged, I've come to understand what it really means:
You can reflect on yesterday and plan for tomorrow, but you can only live in the present.
This very moment — writing these words, breathing this breath — is Time. Everything else is memory or imagination.
It took years, but I FINALLY understand that at my core.
When Time Stands Still
Living in the present doesn't mean ignoring the future or the past. It just means that you live fully in the moment you're in — even when that moment hurts.
Life has its seasons of chaos and heartbreak, but even in those times, I've learned that joy can still exist. It might be quieter, more fragile, but it's still there — tucked into laughter through tears, or a single kind gesture that reminds you that love never disappears, it just changes form.
That's where Time stands still — in those sacred, love-filled moments.
Closing Thoughts: What Time Has Taught Me
If Time has taught me anything, it's that every second matters — not because we're racing against a clock, but because each moment is a chance to choose love over fear, kindness over indifference, and presence over distraction.
Maybe that's why I've always been obsessed with Time.
Because somewhere deep down, I knew it wasn't about minutes or hours —
It was about being alive in them.
Blessings, Love Barbara xxoo
P.S. I've written a flash fiction story about the concept of life, lessons learned, and ultimately Time and what matters available here on ReviewThisReviews - you can find it here.
A Video I Created at 60 Years Old, Sitting Quietly With My Mother
My mom passed away in 2021, and she will forever be a part of my every breath, in this life and beyond. This video remains my current reflection on what Time means to me, now that I am 65 years old.
If I were to revise my above poem, "Time’s Gift" again, I’d add the message from this video: that life’s lessons matter, yes, but it’s the love we share and receive that truly sustains us and moves us forward.
Dedication – With heartfelt appreciation to my fellow writers at ReviewThisReviews.com, and especially to Sylvestermouse and Margaret, whose friendship and creativity continue to light the way. Time has been my friend because you are in my life.
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
My cute blue owl design is one of those designs when I just have a general thought in mind, which is one of my favorite ways to create.
I find it more freeing, and I am especially pleased when it turns out really well, i.e. to my liking. That is not always the case. But it did happen for the blue owl design.
I began with a general sketch of an owl and then continued using my paint brush. One side looked bigger than the other; no problem, I just made adjustments and continued with the flow. That is what is so great about it; designing this way, I get to go with the flow. And like I said, sometimes it turns out really well.
My first cutesy product that I made was general in nature, a Hello postcard was first.
Then I made three birthday products with my blue owl painting. Approximately two weeks after my creations, six of the Hello postcards were sold. Yay. I didn't give it much thought and went on to whatever else I had going on.
It wasn't until over a year later that a set of my blue owl birthday stickers sold. This time, it got my attention. 'I should see what kind of owl items are being purchased on Zazzle.' Wrapping paper was one of them, and I had already designed a blue owl product on tissue paper. Okay, that's it. I'll make a birthday suite featuring this cute, adorable, blue owl.
And sometimes, that is how it goes for me. I don't always have everything planned from the start. It just kind of unfolds in due time.
This is how my flow unfolded for this Cute Blue Owl Birthday suite. Hope you like it. The products include wrapping paper, tissue paper, paper napkins, paper plates, birthday invitations, and more.
If there is an additional product that you would like me to add it to, let me know in a comment below.
Cheryl Paton
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
Life is sometimes a big struggle and we can find ourselves more than a little lost with all that is happening around us. Every once in a while something happens that seems to take us out of the darkness and chaos, to remind us that life is still very, very good. And this week has been amazing!
Let me tell you a little story.
When I was 18 years old, I became a BLOOD DONOR! Oh I didn't do it for the right reasons, I was busy trying to get out of one of my high school classes. At that time, the Canadian Red Cross ( now known as Canadian Blood Services) would come to high schools, set up a clinic, and hopefully recruit new donors for this important life saving venue. That was my door to getting out of that dreaded class!
Anyways, that was many years ago and much has changed in the process of giving blood. Some of the changes are great and some of them are not. but all were necessary to keep the supply of blood safe for those who needed it most.
You see the story changed for me when my father became ill. At that time I was already a regular donor but hadn't really thought about how much my donation would impact others. Oh I knew people needed blood for all kinds of things, but it was never personal to me. Well that changed quickly.
My father had cancer and while he was undergoing treatments, he would receive blood transfusions as part of his care. When he would come home from those transfusions, he looked so much better and had more energy. It seemed transformative to us and to him. I would talk to him and he'd say to me, please keep on being a blood donor, it makes such a difference to me!
Well how can you say no to that? Especially when you find out you and he are the same blood type!
At that point in my life, I no longer looked at giving blood as a chore, rather it became part of my mission to help my father and anyone else who needed that help.
Fast forward to this week. While I was at my regular BLOOD DONOR CLINIC, the people who had just finished their donations, were sitting at the coffee table and tossing their donor cards on the table for the volunteer to record their donation on the back. Jokingly I said. Okay, "Who's got the most donations and do they get a prize?" Everyone at the table had a good laugh until I pulled out my card and they got a look at it. Theirs were emblazoned with 10, 20, 30 donations and then mine hit the pile and it said 100!
I didn't think it was a big deal, but everyone at the table were totally impressed. A discussion ensue and I encouraged all of them, that their day will come when 100 will be on their cards too.
It wasn't until this week when a package arrived that made me stop and think. My other half said, "did you order another book?" I was truly surprised to be getting a package because I did NOT order anything. Opening it I was even more surprised! I guess getting to that 100 was a bigger deal than I had thought. It was a certificate from Canadian Blood Services!
Now I was truly impressed and my other half made me realize that I had dedicated the last 25 years of my life to giving blood 4 times a year. Well when you put it that way, I guess it is impressive.
Now this story is not about bragging rights, because that just isn't me, rather it's a story about encouraging YOU or anyone in your family to become BLOOD DONORS! The need is always there and as the Slogan says, "It's in you to give!" It doesn't cost you anything other than about an hour of your time and it helps people that you may never ever meet! But be certain of one thing, the people that need the blood will be thanking you in their hearts for helping them!
Do you need something to help you through your darker times? Take an hour and become a BLOOD DONOR, you will feel so much better about life when you know you make a difference.
I do hope that this, my story, will encourage you to become part of a lifeline for so many people that are in need!
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
Or, "The Curious Case of Narcissistic Cat Disorder (NCD)"
Today, I'm sharing a fictional tale inspired by my friend's very real, very entertaining two-cat situation, where a few truths are sprinkled into a whole lot of playful imagination.
Meet the Brothers Fluff
In a cozy, well-loved home filled with sunbeams, strategic cat towers, and the occasional overturned plant pot, live two very different kitty cats: Damien and Angel.
Angel is the embodiment of feline calm—a zen master in fur. He purrs with purpose, meditates near windows, and silently judges your snack choices with a soft, serene stare.
Then there's Damien.
If Angel is the yoga instructor of the house, Damien is the misunderstood rockstar. He enters a room like he owns it, flicks his tail like it owes him money, and occasionally asserts his feelings with the subtle grace of a velvet wrecking ball.
Is it Jealousy? Boredom? Or... Narcissistic Cat Disorder?
We say this with love, but sometimes it seems like Damien might have a touch of Narcissistic Cat Disorder—NCD, for short. It's not in any official vet manual, but if it were, the symptoms would be obvious:
Excessive self-admiration
Moments of complete insanity
Haughty stares from atop bookshelves
The belief that Angel is merely an unpaid extra in The Damien Show
Don't get us wrong—Damien isn't mean. He's just... confidently assertive with opinions. Strong ones. Usually about who gets to walk through the hallway first.
But under that puffed-up tail and occasional glare is buried a lovable, complex little guy trying to express himself—with flair and the occasional dramatic pawticipation.
Good Kitty vs. Dark Side Kitty: The Yin-Yarn of Household Harmony
Angel, as his name suggests, radiates tranquility. He walks gently, naps deeply, and is basically the Dalai Lama with whiskers. He even tolerates belly rubs (well, occasionally—let's not get crazy).
Damien? Damien is more "Darth Vader in a cat costume." He doesn't just swat toys—he interrogates them. He doesn't just jump on the counter—he conquers it.
But they're brothers. Opposites, yes, but bonded in a cosmic way that transcends the frequent hiss. Like Batman and Superman, only with more fur and slightly worse communication skills.
Kitty Mom & Dad: The Real Heroes of This Saga
Before you picture total fur-coated anarchy, rest assured: kitty parents are on top of it.
They've read articles, watched expert videos, adjusted feeding schedules, and spent more on calming pheromone diffusers than they care to admit. They know the signs: the sideways glance, the twitchy tail, the silent prelude to a high-speed chase, and a Damien pounce.
This is not a home of chaos—it's a carefully managed feline society. Structured playtime? Check. Individual love sessions? Check. Strategic furniture placement to support vertical hierarchy? Check, check, and cat-tree-check.
They even have contingency plans for when Damien channels his inner drama queen and needs a solo timeout with his "special area for shame and comfort."
The Occasional “Oops-I-Pounced-You” Moment (a.k.a. Cat-Fu Theater)
Now, let's talk about the cat pouncing.
Not the lighthearted "boop" of affection. We mean the real, committed kind—when Damien struts past Angel and delivers a swift, unannounced "just because" paw body check that clearly means, "I am the boss for the moment."
These moments are not always daily occurrences, but when they happen, ohhh, they happen.
Sometimes Angel absorbs the swat like a Buddhist monk, blinking slowly as if to say, "You're projecting again." Other times, he returns fire, and within seconds it's a full-blown Feline Face-Off—starring Fluff & Fluffer.
No claws, no blood, just a thunderous 12-second flurry of tail flicks, dramatic glares, and a series of rapid-fire sound effects that can only be described as "angry sock puppets in a wind tunnel."
It's not violence—it's performance art. And like all great artists, these two have a lot of feelings.
That said, it's always under close supervision. Kitty's mom and dad know when to redirect the energy with toys, throw out a snack distraction (aka the Peace Treat-y), or simply separate them for a cool-down session. Even if Damien occasionally leads with his paws instead of his heart, he still tricks everyone into believing he is a lovable fluff with a complex emotional soundtrack.
And Angel? Well, he's probably off journaling in the laundry basket again, processing his growth.
In Conclusion: Two Fluffs, One Home, Infinite Drama
Whether Damien is secretly auditioning for a feline soap opera or just navigating big feelings with small paw gestures, one thing's for sure: these brothers are deeply loved and wonderfully cared for.
Their home isn't perfect, but it's full of love, laughter, and the ongoing quest for peace between Angel kitty and his slightly more… theatrical villain sibling.
Sure, there's drama—but they still curl up under the same roof as any siblings who haven't quite agreed on who's the favorite.
**Heads up: Kitty names are pseudonyms to protect their purr-sonal privacy!
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🕮 I hope you enjoyed this latest flash fiction piece :)
🕮 If you're in the mood for more, a few weeks ago I shared a flash fiction story about Gracie at age 8—full of childhood wonder—and before that, one about Gracie at 82, rich with wisdom and reflection.
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
Have you ever had a favorite number you swore brought you luck? Maybe it was your birthday, your jersey number in high school, or just a number that "felt right."
Well, you're not alone. It turns out humans have been assigning luck (and bad vibes) to numbers for centuries. From ancient cultures to modern-day lotteries, numbers have carried weight far beyond their mathematical value.
So let's dive into the surprisingly quirky world of lucky numbers and their infamous unlucky cousins.
Where Did Lucky Numbers Come From, Anyway?
There's no official "history of lucky numbers" carved in stone, but lucky digits have been floating around since ancient times.
Early civilizations believed in numerology, where each number had a specific meaning or vibration.
The Greeks, Chinese, Egyptians, and Babylonians all had their take on which numbers could bring good fortune (or doom). Fast-forward to today, and we still hold some of those beliefs.
It turns out old superstitions die hard—especially when they're tied to money, love, or fate!
So, What Are the "Luckiest" Numbers?
You'll notice some numbers keep popping up across cultures, and they've gained a reputation for bringing good vibes. Here are a few that take the top spots:
In Chinese culture, eight is considered extremely lucky because it sounds like the word for prosperity and wealth.
It's so revered that people pay extra to have it in phone numbers, license plates, and even addresses.
Want to sell your house faster in China or anywhere else? Make sure the address has an 8.
3 – Harmony and Good Things in Threes
The number three represents balance and harmony. Think of the saying, "third time's a charm." In storytelling, things often happen in threes—three little pigs, three wishes, three musketeers. Coincidence? I think not.
9 – Power and Magic
Nine is often associated with wisdom and experience. In Norse mythology, there are nine realms. In numerology, 9 is the number of the humanitarian and spiritualist. It's also the last single digit, which gives it a sense of completion and power.
11 – Intuition and Inspiration
Though not always labeled as "lucky," eleven has a certain magical, intuitive vibe. Many people make wishes when they see 11:11 on the clock. I know I do! It's a number that's thought to open a spiritual gateway (or at least a wish-granting moment).
A Few Numbers That Didn't Make the Lucky List
Let's not forget the dark side of digits—those numbers we avoid like stepping on cracks in the sidewalk.
13 – The OG Bad Luck Number
Ah, thirteen. So misunderstood. In Western culture, it's considered super unlucky.
Hotels skip it. Airplanes skip it. Heck, Friday the 13th even has its own horror franchise.
The roots are fuzzy, but it's often linked to bad omens and betrayal (looking at you, Judas Iscariot, the 13th guest at the Last Supper).
4 – The Death Number (Literally)
In many East Asian cultures, especially Chinese and Japanese, four is avoided like the plague because it sounds like the word for death. Some buildings even skip the 4th floor entirely. So if you're giving someone flowers in Japan, don't send four!
Beyond superstition, some numbers have simply earned their legendary status thanks to history:
1066 – The Battle of Hastings, which changed England forever.
1492 – Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Love him or not, that number sticks in your head.
1776 – Independence Day in the U.S. Enough said.
911 – Not lucky, but certainly significant, especially in North America.
666 – The "Number of the Beast." If you've ever looked at a receipt total and gone "nope," you've felt its power.
But Here's the Wildest Part…
Now for the twist—ready?
I personally know ten people who have won the lottery. Yes, actual winners. Not the "my cousin's neighbor's dog-walker" kind of story, but real people in my life. And some didn't just win pocket change—we're talking millions.
A few were instant ticket winners, others hit it big in traditional draws. It always shocks people when I tell them I personally know big lottery winners! And yep, we won a luxury vehicle in 2001! That was amazing! It's since been sold, but wow, what a day that was when I received the call that we won the early-bird prize for that draw.
Final Thoughts: Numbers, Luck, and a Little Magic
Whether you believe in lucky numbers or not, they make life a little more fun.
They add meaning, spark tradition, and—let's be honest—fuel our dreams when we buy that one lottery ticket "just in case." I'm not saying numbers can change your fate… but hey, if you've got a number that feels lucky, go ahead and play it. You never know what magic it might bring.
What's your lucky number? Do you have one or more than one?
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
Today is another flash fiction story about Gracie, who is eight years old. Long before those 82 years of life experience kicked in.
This flash fiction is about the early signs of who Gracie would become, and the first quiet stirrings of the peace she would one day find within herself—peace that would stay with her all the way to that rocking chair at 82.
______________________________
Gracie Always Knew - A Doll's Lesson
Gracie
held her favorite doll, its painted smile forever unchanged.
She
studied it closely, realizing that while she had learned to run
faster, dream bigger, and feel deeper, the doll had stayed exactly
the same. Time moved through her like the changing seasons—shaping her in quiet, steady ways—while the doll stayed exactly the same.
That's when she understood:
time only changes the living.
She gave the doll a pretend
life, imagining it full of thoughts and adventures. But sometimes,
late at night, another thought crept in—what if someone imagined me into being, giving me my lines, feelings, and story?
Church was as much a part
of her life as brushing her teeth or saying goodnight. And with
church came God, expected, unquestioned, and ever-present.
But the older
she got, the more she wondered: Where
is God? Why is God? Her questions had grown more detailed now, shaped by the things she
was starting to notice about the world and about herself. Those questions were
still too big to hold, but she carried them anyway.
She thought often about who
she was becoming.
There was one thing she wanted to be more than
anything—kind. Really kind. The type of kind that came from the
inside, not just because someone was watching. At eight years old, she failed at that many times. But it remained ever-present in her spirit.
Most of the time, she
was kind. But not always. Sometimes, she snapped at her little brother and was mean to her little brother!
Sometimes, envy crept in like a thief. She felt that and knew jealousy was not something to cling to. Still, deep down, she understood those moments didn't define her. They
were passing clouds, not her sky.
Something inside her—some
glowing ember she couldn't name—kept telling her that kindness
mattered more than almost anything else. It was what made people
beautiful. Not their clothes, or their hair, or even their words.
She felt kindness was like sunlight through a window—gentle, warm, and easy to miss if you weren't paying attention, but everything felt better there.
However, the world didn't
always agree.
Gracie had started to
notice contradictions.
Adults talked about love, forgiveness, and
doing what was right. They sang about it in church, prayed about it
at dinner, and nodded solemnly as Church leaders spoke.
But then the same
people would gossip, lose their tempers, or ignore someone who needed
help. It confused her. How
could they forget so quickly?
She wanted to believe
people meant well—that they were just trying, like she was. But part
of her couldn't shake the feeling that some were only
pretending—that they wore kindness like a costume and took it off
when it no longer served them.
And then, with a quiet
sigh, she admitted it—Sometimes,
I do that too.
The realization didn't
crush her, but settled into her chest with weight. Maybe being
good wasn't about getting it right every time. Perhaps it was about
not giving up when you got it wrong.
Gracie didn't like the idea of perfection—something about it always felt impossible, like a game no one could win. And yet, she couldn't help but chase it.
Even at eight, she felt the pressure to be the one who got it right, who made things better, who didn't let anyone down. Somewhere along the way, without meaning to, she'd written herself a silent set of rules: Be better. Fix it. Don't disappoint.
She didn't know it then, but that quiet urge to rescue and make things right would shape much of her life—until years later, when she finally began to see its weight and learn a different way of being.
You see, Gracie was, by nature, a
rescuer. But she didn't know that
yet.
For now, at eight years old, she knew only this: being a doll would be so much easier. Dolls didn't have to
ask questions, feel pain, or wrestle with what was right. Dolls
didn't worry about being enough.
It was the first time she
realized how heavy it could be to be real—and maybe the first clue
that she was beginning to understand more than most eight-year-olds.
That's when Gracie wrote her first poem, at 8 years old. She called it "Thanksgiving."
_____________________
Am I Gracie?
You can safely presume that I'm Gracie, and yes, that first poem called Thanksgiving is included in my published poetry book below. I penned it when I was in grade 3; it is childlike and reflects the idealistic mind of an 8-year-old.
_____________________
I hope you've enjoyed the story of Gracie's life lesson at eight years old. 🕮
If you're into a longer story, I've penned this short story, The Gift of Knowing (can you sense a theme here?).
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
Our Adoption Story: The Story of How We Met Our Baby, is a book for adoptive parents to fill out, so that each one can tell the story of how they met their baby.
This book has guided prompts to help the adoptive parents fill in the blanks, so that they can write their own adoption story, and also share information about their baby, such as how meeting their baby came about, things they did the day that they brought their baby home, things they did to prepare ahead of time for bringing their baby home, etc.
Some pages also include little images to help out with the written prompts, as a fun way for the parents to personalize their story.
There are also pages that include a simple picture frame to add a picture to help depict what that page is about.
The inspiration behind this book:
My husband and I became adoptive parents decades ago. It was before the internet, so most exchanges of information were done locally, and or reading magazines, finding a group, etc.
When a couple becomes adoptive parents, things can happen rather quickly. Adoptive parents can find out that they are 'expecting' their baby anywhere from a day, to weeks, or months, before their baby is ready for adoption. It can be a whirlwind to prepare and get things ready for the day, for this new bundle of life to enter their lives. Some perspective adoptive parents can also be on a waiting list that can take even longer.
We actually found out about our potential baby around a couple of weeks before the baby was to be born. We didn't know for sure which gender we were 'expecting', but we at least had an idea. We purchased baby clothes, a crib, a dresser that included a changing table on the top. We waited to see what formula the hospital was feeding our baby, before purchasing baby formula. We also purchased diapers, both cloth and disposables.
The day came and we were both excited and nervous. But all of that changed once our baby was handed to us.
We had already made an appointment with a local pediatrician; our first stop before arriving home was with with the pediatrician. There, the doctor showed us how to change the baby's diaper, take her temperature, and gave us other new parent information.
Some time after that, I joined a parenting group, where I could take our baby. The new parents could learn about being parents. That was a great learning experience; it was very helpful. I also noticed that the new moms also talked a lot about their pregnancy and birthing stories. There was no one in the group on that particular day of the week, that I could relate to. But I did hear about another adoptive mom that went to that parenting group on a different day of the week, that wanted to start a play group for adoptive parents. Yay!
There ended up being five of us adoptive moms and five babies in our adoption play group. We all had different adoption stories. And we all had a learning curve; there were many similarities to new moms of any type, learning how to be a mom, but also things that were unique to us, as adoptive moms.
After all of this, I decided to write a story, just for our child, for her to be able to read and know some basic background about our adoption experience and information about her.
I wrote our story on index cards, and included pictures from magazines to help explain whatever, and pictures of us and her as well. I wrote answers to questions that might arise, using simple words. It became a favorite book for us to read together.
After many years, the idea came to me to make something that other adoptive parents could easily fill in and personalize, so that they could share their story with their baby.
This paperback booklet measures 6 by 9 inches and is 24 pages long. It is simple to fill out, and add photographs to. It will be a lovely, informative book for when the child is young, and also a wonderful keepsake for years to come.
Our Adoption Story - to be filled in by the adoptive parents. Check price.
Let me know in a comment below, if you think a similar booklet would be a good idea for adoptive parents that adopt a toddler or an older child. Thank you.
Update: Thank you for your comments. I will be designing three more adoption story books; one for toddlers, grade school children, and teens., each of which will include sections for the child to have some input.
Cheryl Paton
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
Many times in the last few months, I have purposefully made time for Peace of Mind. Usually people think of piece of mind, when they hear this phrase. But I decided to give it an update.
I have given my "piece of mind" through the ethers, to names that I won't mention, and it may have helped to get bottled up stuff out. Even though I might have used positive words in my 'giving' I ultimately realized that I needed to give more time to Peace of Mind.
How might I do this, you may ask. Usually, I listen to a guided affirmation video on YouTube. I pick one that I find feels good to me in that moment, and also has soothing music that I like listening to. If that criteria doesn't seem to fit after a minute or so of listening, I go back and select another one. It is very important to me that I meet my needs and desires in that moment. It's important that I simply say no to what I don't want, for whatever reason, and to say Yes to my do wants.
I find that the more I say yes to me, the better my life and feelings actually go.
Sometimes I find that I really just want a female's voice to listen to, and other times it doesn't matter. Recently I listened to an affirmation video that had a lovely image of a young woman, and a soft voice from a man. I was intrigued and rather enjoyed it. It's on my save list to watch again later.
One of my regular voices that I listen to is a man's voice that is in the medium register. It's not always my favorite, but he does have some pretty good videos.
When I was watching more of the current event type videos, I found myself in a place that didn't feel so good. I told myself I needed to keep up, to find out if there was something I could do, to help change what I saw. I found out that those videos didn't really offer anything in that regard. I would end up, after a time, searching out an affirmation video, to lift my mood back up. I knew it was better for me to get to a better feeling place, than to hang out where I was.
Through this process, I started writing some specific affirmations in regards to the current events I was learning about. I incorporated those affirmations with some of my personal affirmations that I wrote for myself. I also reminded myself that some of my bigger affirmations that I wrote years ago, did come true. So who knows. To me it is worth it. It helps me with my Peace of Mind.
A favorite affirmation of mine is one that actually came from Proverbs. "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver." It reminds me that words are important. And I also know that words have power.
If you would like to know more about using affirmations, you can read Using Affirmations, Review, which is also on Review This Reviews.
Cheryl Paton
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
When I first started using affirmations, I was a novice. I had worked through a book and came up with ten affirmations that I would write down, and then read and recite daily.
I was floored when I noticed that some of them were coming true. I continued on a bit more, and became flabbergasted. I really started watching what I was saying; so much so, that I became very quiet. I didn't want to let words slip out that were not affirmative of what I wanted and or liked.
But then I also began to miss having conversations. I didn't know how to be discerning of what I watched on TV or listened to as background noise, etc.
Having been raised as a Christian, I also began to wonder if this what was God wanted me to do. I wrote about that in another blog, and will share a link to that at the bottom of this post.
My main point of writing about using affirmations, is that I have found and also developed some tips and tricks that have helped me out in my continuing journey.
As much as possible, I try to notice more of what I do like.
As much as possible, I try to see the good. If that didn't seem to be working, I would leave a certain situation, and continue to work on me.
If it is a situation I want to stay in and make the best of, I have tried to state more of what it is I want, and only sticking to that. Sometimes I might rephrase something in a more positive way. I have found that to be helpful.
When it comes to reading, I take the time to transform the word I, used by others to refer to themselves, to they, he, she, etc. I have become more conscientious of when I use the word I, so I don't want to take on that word when I am reading in regards to someone else's I. So yes, I book has to really sound good for me to want to read it. Or, if the writer is coming from a place that I would like to be, then I can be okay with reading their I as also my I. Hope that makes sense.
When it comes to singing, I have found that singing words, has actually created more energy for those words as I sing them. So when my favorite tunes come on and I want to sing, I either replace the words with more positive words that I can align to, or just think my replacement words in my head, or just repeat a string of syllables to go along with the tune. Like lots of la la la, do rah do, etc.
Yes, these are all things that I have done to help me in my journey of using affirmations, without having to resort to a very quiet life. I don't like the idea of becoming a monk or be monk like. Did you notice what I just did, I used the word like with a derivative of not. I read about someone else doing that, to get out of the habit of using less positive descriptions.
I have also done quiet self talk. Early on in my affirmation journey, when I was out in a restaurant and the person across from me had said something I didn't like and I wanted things to go better, I cupped my hand up over my mouth and would quietly say the affirmation that I was trying to foster. I knew that what they were saying was triggering my old beliefs, so it was nothing I had to try and get them to change in that moment. This was my own personal way of working on me. I learned later that I could also say to myself, I dissolve this energy, and would mentally just think it to the area that I was feeling it in my body.
Another thing I have decided to do, is when I am with others who may not be talking very affirmatively, I have asked them, "What is it that you do want to happen?" Sometimes I have responded with what I may like to have happen, to give them an idea of what I mean. Sometimes, this has proven helpful.
I have found that I like various ways of doing affirmations. Sometimes I just like to chill and listen to them as background. Other times I follow along and repeat what I am listening to. If there is enough time, I repeat each one out loud and then again silently to myself.
I also like saying affirmations while doing physical activity. An example is saying that "I am strong," while exercising. I can find that quite invigorating. Physical activity can also be beneficial by itself.
You may not equate massage with affirmations, however our bodies can store energy of our beliefs. Massage from another or even one's self can help to release that stored energy through massage. It doesn't have to be a whole body massage, it can be as simple as massaging one's hands or feet. When I do that, sometimes I feel like I just need to take a deeper breath and let it go. I find it very helpful. Physical exercise can also loosen up stored energy.
Those are some of the things that I have done to improve my self well-being. I am glad that I pursued this journey of affirmations. I hope that you have found some help here, either with new tools that you may find helpful, and also that if you are going through anything similar, that you know you are with others who are on a path of transformation as well.
If you would like to read more about my transitioning went as far as me wondering what God wanted to me do, you can check that out here. It's my blog on Proverbs as Affirmations.
If you'd like some books that foster a more affirmative life, check these out. They are on Amazon.
Do you have an affirmation tip to share? Please do.
Cheryl Paton
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
This story is about Gracie, an 82-year-old woman who reflects on the choices that shaped her life, wondering if she unknowingly chose hardship over ease or if each struggle was a lesson meant to expand her soul.
Gracie's Edge of Knowing
Gracie rocked gently on the front porch, the creak of the wooden boards beneath her chair keeping time with the rhythmic chirp of the crickets. The air was thick with the scent of earth and wildflowers, the sun dipping below the trees in a lazy surrender to dusk.
She watched the world settle, the sky shifting from gold to deep violet, the colors blending like the years of her life—some vibrant, some shadowed, all layered upon each other.
Eighty-two years had come and gone, each one filled with choices—some deliberate, some made in haste, some dictated by circumstance. They all brought her to this porch, in this moment of reflection.
She had never been unhappy, not truly. Even when life was at its hardest, when the money ran thin, when loss hollowed her out, when the weight of responsibility pressed upon her shoulders—there had always been a quiet joy inside her. A knowing. An acceptance.
But tonight, as the twilight deepened, a familiar question lingered on the edges of her thoughts, like the echo of a song she could never quite forget: Had she chosen wisely, or had she simply chosen difficulty? Had she spent her years intentionally growing or foolishly suffering?
You see, Gracie had never been one to take the easy road. Even as a girl, she felt drawn to the winding paths that made her think, feel, struggle, and stretch.
Some had said she married young, too young. But she and Jack had built a life together, one of hard work, sacrifice, and victories that only they could fully understand.
Jack had been gone for five years now, but his echo still lived in the walls of their home—a presence that whispered through every corner and crevice, like the wind moving through the trees.
Their children had grown, as children do, into lives of their own—busy lives, full of their own choices. She was never upset when they couldn't visit. She knew how it was; she had once been them, caught in the whirlwind of a young, on-the-go life.
And she was not lonely. Loneliness was an emptiness, and she was not empty. She was simply wondering.
Had she wasted this trip to earth?
Her hands, wrinkled and wise, rested in her lap as she reflected upon her life.
She had lived at the edge of outer peace, always on the periphery of the easy life. But inner peace? That she had. A deep well of it, a knowing that everything—every heartbreak, every struggle, every joy—had led her to an understanding that could not have come any other way.
She had not walked the simplest path, but perhaps she had walked the one that mattered most for her needed life lessons.
Maybe that was the point of it all: To arrive at the end with a soul that had stretched and softened, that had learned love beyond self, that had carried burdens only to lay them down with grace. To have gathered wisdom not from ease but from experience.
She exhaled, long and slow, as if releasing the weight of the question into the evening air. The answer was not hers to fully grasp, not yet.
Perhaps she wouldn't understand until she left this place, until the universe whispered the truth into her soul as she crossed into whatever came next. And that was fine. She could wait.
For now, she lived with love in her heart, and that was enough. The night deepened, the stars blinking awake one by one, and Gracie rocked on, peaceful in the not knowing.
___________________
I hope you've enjoyed my attempt at flash fiction 🕮
If you're into a longer story, I've penned this short story, The Gift of Knowing (can you sense a theme here?).
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
At sixty-something, I think about the purpose of life almost daily. As with most of us, my perspective has grown as I've aged. Thank goodness!
There was a time in my youth when I wanted—no, needed—to be heard.
I found myself passionately debating, sharing my opinions at every opportunity, eager to ensure my voice carried weight in conversations.
Upon reviewing my 30s, life seemed like a stage, and I was determined to make my performance known. My perspective felt vital as if the world would falter without it. Who knows, maybe this is why I started writing poetry at eight years old?
But somewhere along the way, as the years turned into decades, I realized something profound: the less I needed to be heard, the more I truly understood.
My Voice at Thirty-Something
Like most people in their 30s, I was a whirlwind of energy. Raising children, navigating a career, managing relationships—it all demanded a level of assertiveness that often translated into an urgency to express my opinions.
I believed my perspective mattered, and I often thought it was my duty to guide those around me.
Looking back, I can't fault myself for that stage of life. It was necessary. I was learning who I was, carving out a space in a noisy world.
But with that stage came the frustration of not always being understood, the exhaustion of trying to convince others, and the endless cycle of expressing, explaining, and defending my views.
At the time, it felt like a need—to assert, to advise, to warn.
Today, I see that same drive in the younger generation, and it makes me smile. They are precisely where they need to be, and I'm learning to let them be.
Learning to "Let Them"
As I grew older, I stumbled upon a powerful shift in perspective: the "Let Them Theory."
Although this book is relatively new, I had been implementing this concept for over a decade without knowing what it was. You can find the book "The Let Them Theory" here.
I began to see that people, much like my younger self, need to navigate their own paths.
This is the hardest to implement as a mother, no matter our age. I'm currently in my mid-60s, and speaking from a mom's point of view, it isn't easy, but 'letting things be' gets easier with practice and faith in those you love.
Faith that they'll learn and grow, just like I did. And when they're in their mid-60s, they may feel similar.
They need to make mistakes, enjoy triumphs, and learn from their own experiences. No amount of advice—however well-intentioned—can replace the wisdom that life imparts.
This doesn't mean I don't care or have nothing to offer.
Quite the opposite. It means I've learned the value of strategic silence. As I passive-aggressively, put this part in bold! LOL!
I've come to understand that advice is best offered when it is sought. Unsolicited guidance, no matter how insightful, often falls on deaf ears.
By letting people grow their way, I've given myself the gift of peace—a reprieve from the need to control or direct.
The Freedom of Being an Observer
Stepping back into the role of observer has been one of the most freeing experiences of my life, but it has also been one of the most challenging.
Observing doesn't mean disengaging or becoming indifferent. It means watching with love, offering support when asked, and resisting the urge to intervene unnecessarily.
This shift wasn't easy at first.
I had to quiet the voice in my head that wanted to fix, explain, and prevent mistakes. But as I practiced "letting them," I discovered that my own life became lighter.
The trappings of division—the need to be right, to convince, to be validated—began to fade. In their place was a sense of serenity and acceptance.
It's not about compromising my beliefs or moral compass. I still hold strong convictions and am willing to stand by them.
But I've learned that not every battle needs to be fought. The secret in that old cliche says it well, 'pick and choose your battles.'
Sometimes, the greatest act of love is to allow others to find their own way. It's not always easy to do this, but implementing The Let Them Theory on smaller issues has helped me manage larger ones.
When You No Longer Need to Be Heard
Strangely enough, as I've stepped back, people have leaned in. But this was never the goal.
The beauty of no longer needing to be heard lies in the peace it brings, not in the attention it attracts.
In an increasingly noisy world, even the quiet observer can make an impact simply by being present, attentive, and calm. I work on this daily.
By no longer needing to be heard, I've let my actions, choices, and the things I do in life speak for me.
My actions have become my voice, though I don't purposefully do specific things to make a statement.
Instead, I live my truth as best I can—with love, kindness, and a touch of daily grace. It's not perfection—just an honest, imperfect effort.
Love at the Core
At the heart of this life's journey is love. Love for my family, my friends, and humanity as a whole.
I've learned to step back, even when it's hard because I know that growth is personal and unique to each, especially my grown kids.
As I reflect on life from this vantage point, I'm reminded that when the time comes for my final breaths, I won't dwell on the arguments I won or the opinions I voiced.
What will matter is the love I gave, the support I offered, and the understanding I nurtured.
In the end, it's all about love. As I held my mother's hand as she left this world, I can speak from experience that, in fact, loving her and being her child was my greatest gift.
So,
to anyone reading this, consider stepping back when you think it's
best and just observe, love, and let them.
When you no longer need to be heard, you'll hear the world a bit more clearly, and your actions will become your voice.
The learning continues.
Note: The author may receive a commission from purchases made using links found in this article. “As an Amazon Associate, Ebay (EPN), Esty (Awin), and/or Zazzle Affiliate, I (we) earn from qualifying purchases.”
