If the Tables were Turned... (a #1000speak Post)

If I were sat on concrete throughout the day, curled cold in a doorway at night. If stone were my pillow, cardboard my sheet, and my blanket fell from the sky. 

If I were hungry, huddled, cold, exposed; afraid of an unsheltered night. If I'd found a hideaway, been discovered, moved on; had nowhere else to go. 

If I knew what it was to hunt butts on the floor, scavenge food from a bin. beg handouts from passers by. If I was hungry, thirsty, drained; tortured by bellies cry.

If my gloves were wet from shifting snow, my fingers froze to biting. If my feet were screaming, barely shod, my skin icebound in tattered clothing. 

If I had to look down, was too ashamed to look up, was afraid of the look in their eyes. If I knew what it was to be guessed at, frowned upon, judged in a moment. 

If the tables were turned. If I were Homeless. I'd wish for (pray for) compassion. 

Poem by Cliff Letts. Read more Here

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If my life had been torn apart by conflict. If I knew what it was to watch friends and loved ones die. Torn apart, blown apart, tortured. 

If I'd been forced to leave my home, community, country. Leave a life time of people behind.

If my life, my children's lives depended on running, if there was little hope in the running but running was all we had. 

If I'd had to bundle up belongings, a whisper of our all. Drag my babies through the night, throw them onto an uncertain boat... answer their cries with lies and maybes. 

If I (we) survived the journey. Were thrown (traumatized) from a sea of hope into an unfamiliar (largely unwelcoming) world.  Washed up, weary worn, stranded! 

If my children now wandered barefoot in the rain, in the-there-that-we-had-run-to... rejected, hungry, hurting.

If I'd arrived at hope to find hopeless, and would rather we'd died in the there that we'd fled... than die in the there that we'd run to.   .

If the tables were turned. If I were a Refugee. I'd wish for (pray for) compassion. 

***

If I were old, lonely, unwanted, forgotten. Old; forgetful, childlike, demanding. Old; frustrated, sharp tongued, aggressive. If I were hard work...a burden.

If I'd been Marie; unloved, abused. Surrounded by hopelessness; voiceless. confused. If I'd known fear without comprehension. If my screams had gone unheard. 

If I were alone; scared, unprotected. Nothing-to-no-one; wretched, neglected. If I were they that are!

If the tables were turned. 

*** 

This is a #1000speak post. Thankfully, there are a lot of kind, compassionate people in the world. People who make a difference. People who give what they can, do what they can, bring hope to the hopeless.  Not least the folks who write for 1000-Speak.

1000-Voices-For-Compassion is such a beautiful movement. There are so many contributions, from bloggers all over the World.... I encourage you to check them out if you get a chance, I'm sure you'll find some that resonate with you. 

You can do that by following @1000speak on Twitter or by checking out the '1000 Voices for Compassion' Face book page Here

#1000SPEAK FOR COMPASSION 

Speaking for GOOD on the 20th of every month

***

Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie x

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Just-a-Quote #6... (Homeless. Compassion.)

"If you can't help all homeless people, then just help one." ~ Kimmie

***

Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie x

Related Posts:

                                       

                                       Somebody's Son                                         

Streets Ahead 

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Streets Ahead (a #1000speak post)

It would be impossible to write this post without sounding like I'm blowing my own trumpet, because the events of the two (short, I promise) compassion stories I'm about to share with you, were born of my own compassion. But, it's not MY horn I want to blow today... Ignore my horn! :o)

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A while back, November-ish I think, Hubs and I were on our way to post some letters when we passed a homeless guy. He was sat on the pavement; head down, eyes closed, huddled. 

Within moments of passing the man I was kicking myself for not stopping, and knowing that we would be crossing his path again on our way back to the Co-op I asked Hubs if he had any spare change in his pocket. He dug out what he had. It wasn't much. 

The mans reaction when we stopped and handed over 'not-much' was smashing. His face lit up instantly. His expression a mix of surprise and... actually I'm not quite sure about the and; relief with a hint of joy I think. 

At this point he had already made my day!

We said goodbye to the man and crossed the road to the Co-op, stopping first at the cash point just outside the store. While I was waiting for Hubs to withdraw the money we would need for our shopping I noticed another (elderly, frail) homeless man sat just to the right of us, outside the bakers. 

I turned to hubs, and was just about to ask him if we could spare anything else, when I heard... "Come on mate, up ya get, I'll buy ya some breakfast." followed by a mumbled, (inaudible to me) reply. 

I turned toward the voices (as nosey people do ;) and then watched in awe, as he (the man we'd just left on the other side of the street with not-much to his name) gently helped the somewhat bemused elderly man to his somewhat shaky feet. 

Turns out not-much, as far as Mr Compassionate was concerned, was enough. More than enough for two!

I turned back to hubs, and under my breath, asked, 'Can we spare a bit more?'.

After adding a-little-bit-more to their not-much , we said goodbye to Mr Shaky and Mr Compassionate. They, one held up by the other and both smiling, shuffled off in the direction of the nearest cafe. We, also smiling, disappeared into the co-op to get the food we needed to cover our own meals that week. 

Someone once said (Mary Poppins, I think), "Enough is as good as a feast."... Well then, I hope my Mr Compassionate, was served 'enough' fit for a king!

***

Some weeks later; the week between Christmas and New Year. We (me, Hubs and Littlie) were on our way to The Book Shop in Town (to spend Littlie's book-vouchers), when we saw another homeless man, sat on a concrete step between two shops. Eyes to pavement. In a world of his own.

He looked up, startled, when hubs approached him, and was just about to accept the coins offered when he suddenly pushed Hubby's hand away, exclaiming, "No, I can't!" 

At first I thought we'd offended him, hurt his pride, but then he gestured toward Littlie (in her wheelchair) and said, "Disabled, I can't take from disabled, it's not right." 

His reaction took my breath away. He was so sincere. Clearly, more concerned for us than for himself. Choked up even. 

We're not well off by any means, Dear reader, but we had, just days earlier, enjoyed Christmas dinner (and pudding), by fairy-light-glow.  Opened gifts. Eaten sweets. Watched Christmas TV... Together.

We have a roof over our heads; food in the cupboards. Hot water, home comforts, warm beds... Each other. 

We're a long way from concrete!

Anyway, I, made brave by HIS compassion; took the coins from hubs, approached the man myself, and said,  "please take it. It's not much, and I promise you... we have enough." 

The man (I wish I'd asked his name) took the coins from my hand and said 'Thank you'. 

As we turned to walk away he called out, 'Wait'. Then he stood up and shuffled towards us, saying, (addressing Littlie, but looking between us and her for approval), "Let me give you something; can I give you a kiss, Child." then gently, (as gentlemen do) he leaned forward and  kissed Littlie on the cheek. 

The Mum-in-me (without meaning to) had mentally clocked his grubby beard, queried germs, made a mental note to dig out the wet wipes when we were out of sight. 

The ever-present-fear-in-me was on edge, not quite sure, fingers-crossed. Because, well, that's me. 

But I didn't stop him. Nor (amazingly, for a germ obsessive such as me) did I wipe away his gift; his compassion (his 'enough'), when we were out of sight. 

They didn't amount to much; the coins we gave him... they never do. 

But there was love (and compassion) in the giving, and an unspoken; 'I-hope-it's-enough'. 

Much like his gift to us! 

***

Thank you for allowing me to share

I wish you enough. 

Kimmie x 

***

There are so many #1000speak contributions, from bloggers all over the World.... I encourage you to check them out if you get a chance, I'm sure you'll find some that resonate with you. 

You can do that by following @1000speak on Twitter or by checking out the '1000 Voices for Compassion' Face book page Here

#1000SPEAK FOR COMPASSION 

Speaking for GOOD on the 20th of every month

***

Related Post: Somebody's Son 

 

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In a Nutshell... Because Nutshells are Easy.

My God, I needed to write today. Yesterday. All of last week.  If ever there was a ramble (or 10) waiting to come out, it's now.

I've spent hours in front of the laptop attempting to unravel my muddled mind, but absolutely bugger all has made it as far as the keyboard.

How does that work exactly... with a head so full of blogger-fodder. A head so full of feels.

In a nutshell; because nutshells are easy... I feel like I've been picked up and thrown back to May 2015. I'm depressed-scared-overwhelmed. Exhausted. Withdrawn. Hurting. 

I thought I had it under control; The-Grief. Turns out I don't.
I cannot. I CANNOT accept!

I've pondered taking a complete blog/social media break, but I don't really want to do that. Cutting myself off completely isn't the answer; as I've discovered this week. Too little can be as harmful as too much. 

I think what I need to do for a while is write freely. Write without worrying about edits, readability... blog-worthiness  

So. Over the next few weeks I'm gonna continue with my Wordless Wednesday and Just-a-Quote posts; because they're (almost) effortless to put together.

Today I'm going to (in a minute) throw one of those My-10-most-popular thingies at you... assuming they're as easy as I imagine they are to throw together; I've not done one before.

Next week (all being well) I'll be sharing some of my favorite other-bloggers with you, and I'm hoping to write something for the 1000-Speak movement on the 20th.

In the meantime I'm going to be throwing thoughts to paper; any which way they come... writing-doodling-painting. Make a start on my Dear-Dad journal. Read; other-bloggers, and my long list of kindle saves. Have a go at putting some of those blogger how-to's that I've been pinning for months into practice. And rest!

I'll still be around to read/respond to your comments here on the blog (though perhaps not same-day, so bear with me).
I'll catch up with you, dear Twitter-Facebook-friends, on the not-so-down days, and join you, dear fellow-bloggers, for the blog-share parties as and when I can.
As for you, dear readers-just-readers... Thank you (assuming you're still here) for reading.

And Thank you, dear All-Of-The-Above, for supporting-encouraging-comforting me this past (awful) year. x 

Okay. *Takes a breath*. Lets have a go at this 10-most-popular-thing. Actually, lets not. Let's do 8; multiples of 4. Because... the 4-thing. 

#1 Marie's Voice

   

Once upon a time, (1970 to be exact), in a children's home in England, run by an order of nuns called The Poor Sisters of Nazareth... there lived a very 'special' little girl. She was a tiny little dot who had short cropped hair, and the bluest-of-blue eyes. Her beauty, often overlooked, was breathtaking. 

At five years old, such as she was; she was unable to feed herself, she couldn't walk, she couldn't talk, her understanding of the world around her was extremely limited, and her behaviour would have tried the patience of a saint (or nun, as the case may be). Read More

#2 Somebody's Son

Snow falls, blanketing the town 

Somebody's Son is cold 

His hands are froze to biting 

his body (though not) feels old 

Sat upon a cardboard sheet 

Somebody's son alone 

Huddled against a letter box 

gloves wet from shifting snow... 

Read More

#3 Lets Hear it for The Hashtags

I really enjoy these blog share memes. I've met some great people, read too many good-reads to mention, and received lots of encouragement with regard to my own writing. What's not to like :o) Read More

#4 Still Afraid... and the Line's Still Fine.
I originally wrote the following piece in 2013... I'm sharing it again today, edited only marginally, because almost 3 years on there is STILL no change for the better... Government are STILL ignoring campaigners... Disabled people (those who have survived the sustained attacks) are STILL afraid! Read More









#5 It's your Birthday and I'll cry if I want to.
Dad,

What do I do today? How do I do today?  Should I be doing something? - What do I say? I don't know what to say, Dad... should I be saying something?

What do people say to dead Dads on their Birthday?

Happy Birthday Dad. Are you happy? Are you here? Can you hear me? Can I see you? can you do that?... I want you to do that. Read More

#6 If I Could

If I could live anywhere... Oh I'm so glad day dreams are allowed... If I could live anywhere, (anywhere, any time, any dream) I would choose 'Walnut Grove'... Except I'd have Pa build me a proper oven, cause I'm buggered if I could bake like Ma bakes in a tiny little hole to the side of the fire place. Oh, and I'd be needing an inside loo... how Ma manages to poo in that tiny little outhouse; in THAT skirt, is beyond me. Read More






#7 Is This Tired... Fibromyalgia?
A few months ago, I had a severe pain/mobility episode, during which my back/hips went out of alignment and I was left virtually unable to walk for a period of around three weeks, it's not the first time this has happened, and as (over the past 18 months or so) I have experienced ongoing (though less severe) pain in other areas, and a variety of other (random) symptoms, my GP made a referral for me to see a rheumatologist. Read More






#8 I Am.

When other mental health sufferers say they are ashamed (many of them are, for one reason or another) I'm usually the first to respond with - "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you can't help being ill" - and I mean it!

However, I'm afraid it's a case of 'Take my advice, I'm not using it', because there really is no other word than 'ashamed' that describes how I feel, overwhelmingly so, and have felt for a very long time.

My 'shame' might not be rational, but it is 'my' truth, and that's what this space is for. Read More

NB: #8 was actually written toward the end of 2014. I've included it in 2015's most popular list because it is (according to stats) the most viewed post of 2015. 

***

Thank you, as always, for allowing me to share. 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x 

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He will never live in This Year.

It's new years Eve 2015 (time of writing) and I've spent most of today looking to google for inspiration for this New Years Eve post, specifically I was searching 'Happy'. 

I found it of-course, the internet is full of zipadeedoodah today, as it is every new years eve. I found positive posts, round ups posts, lists and lists of 'list' posts... and I found happy posts; other people's thoughts, feelings, wishes. Other people's Happy.

Many were inspiring... none inspired me. 

Actually, that's not quite true... they inspired me to write a list; a stupidly-long list of Happy-New-Year-blog-post-ideas. When I sat down to write this evening I had every intention of using idea #4... 'There's Something Good In Every Day'. 

I could have pulled that one off too, you know... I could have rambled till your eyes were bossed about how blessed I am; how lucky I am, how grateful I am. Because I am. 

You know what else I am... honest. Throwing a load of zipadeedoodah your way this evening... wouldn't have been honest! (I do however wish YOU as much zipadeedoodah as you can handle :o))

***

It's new years Eve 2015 (time of writing), and I'm afraid. I'm afraid of tomorrow! 

This year has been the worst year of my life (so far). This year broke my heart; almost broke me, but I don't want to leave it. My Dad lived in this year.

My Dad hugged me this year. My Dad laughed, and cried this year. This year I heard Dads voice, breathed his smell...read 'I love you' in his eyes. 

Tomorrow will be the first day of a year that doesn't have my Dad in it, and I'm scared. I don't want to leave him behind.

As of tomorrow... 'Dad died LAST year'.  Not this year, not even 7 months ago... LAST  year! He will never live in this year.

As of tomorrow... I will never have a THIS year that has Dad in it again. 

***

It's new years Eve 2015 (time of writing), it's cold outside, and set to get colder and I (though grieving) am warm, fed, housed and Oh-so-cared-for, as (I sincerely hope) are you. 

I decided against an end of year round up of my blog posts this year... #6 on my list of ideas... but I'd love for you to visit (or revisit) just THIS ONE. It means a lot to me. :) 

***

It's new years Eve 2015 (time of writing), and I want to thank YOU, dear readers of my rambles, for reading, commenting (I love your comments :), for being there, for being your beautiful selves... and especially for your support this past (incredibly tough) year. You lot make my day... EVERY DAY! 

I wish you ALL a (heartfelt) HAPPY NEW YEAR! :o) 

***

Thank you as always for allowing me to share 

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie x 

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Poem... That Cam-I-Am

That ‘Cam-I-am’ 

That ‘Cam-I-am’ 

I do not like that ‘Cam-I-am’

I do not like him here or there  

I do not like him anywhere

I do not like him on my telly

smoke-screen grin... state funded belly

I do not like him in my head

invading dreams when I'm in bed

I do not like his policies

his attitude to those in need

I do not like his spare room charge

homes (he says), are far too large

while he and his, and them and theirs

homes (state funded), rooms to spare

looking down on me and mine

and you and yours, and yours and theirs!

You homeless poor man....? 

'Cam' don’t care!

That ‘Cam-I-am' 

That ‘Cam-I-am’ 

I do not like that ‘Cam-I-am

Not in my head, not here or there

I do not like him anywhere

I do not like his common(s) trough

piggy chums, (state funded) scoff

I do not like his welfare war

feed the rich, starve the poor

His food-bank-Britain... Eton mess

Cameron - Osborne - IDS

“Scrounger, skiver,  feckless slob”

“sick, disabled? - GET A JOB!” 

PIP PIP (pardon the pun), state funded wine

looking down on me and mine

and you and yours, and yours and theirs

You hungry poor man...?

'Cam' don’t care!

That ‘Cam-I-am’ 

That ‘Cam-I-am’ 

I do not like that 'Cam-I-am'. 

Copyright©2015kimmie All Rights Reserved

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x 

***

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Hope For Jenny. #HomeForJenny

My friend, Lizzi (who is a beautiful bean) is trying to help her friend, Jenny (who is, by all accounts, also a beautiful bean). Jenny is homeless, but (Thanks to Lizzi) not hopeless! 

I'm not going to tell the story... it's not my story to tell, but I'd love for you to read Lizzi's account, (below), because, (I believe...from what I know of you via Twitter, & the blog), many of you are likely to be as moved by Jenny's strength, (and Lizzi's heart) as I have been. 

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OVER TO LIZZI

My Lovelies, if you’ve been around here for more than the odd occasion lately, you’ll know all about Jenny; the amazing lady I met a few weeks ago when I took post-hotel-conference food to distribute to the homeless people in the city centre (I’m not an angel – food waste is anathema to me when there are people going hungry, and I couldn’t bear it to be thrown away rather than shared, with just a tiny bit of effort on my part). Well, I have AMAZING news about her, but also need your help. 

If you’ve followed our story, you’ll know that I offered to help, however I could, if it was possible, because she got under my skin and became part of my Village, and she matters to me. I visit each day and bring her tea, because that’s what she said would make life better for her (except not right now because I’m laid up at home with shingles (and if this post wanders, I apologise now – I’m on some heavy-duty pain meds) and I miss her lots) and she has opened my eyes to an entirely different world.

A harsh world. REALLY harsh. 

Continue reading... HERE 

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Lizzi Rogers is co-founder of the #1000speak (1000 voices for Compassion) movement...inspired by An article she wrote in January 2015 , she has a heart of gold. 

You can connect with Lizzi on Twitter (if you'd like to) HERE

You can read more about Jenny HERE...meet Jenny 

Excerpt... "But I want you to see her. And Gabriel. In their ‘home’ – an alcove of the 13th Century Old Walls in my city. A ‘home’ with a brick back and a cardboard front, and no…well…no anything, except what they can beg, borrow, adapt or scrounge. A ‘home’ which when Gabriel has convulsions because of a suspected brain injury, he can fall through the box wall into the public car-park which the old wall is a border of. A home with a scavenged toddler’s pushchair as an extra seat. A ‘home’ where Jenny has made a purple craft-paper window, cut into four, and stuck it in between the box/cupboard/bricks which make up the front, because sometimes even a homeless person wants to be able to look out of the window."

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Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x 

A love Letter... A Thank you... & some recycling. (a #1000speak post)

I wanted to (tried to) write something new for #1000speak this month, it's a stunning movement, and one I feel incredibly proud to be a part of; but (as some of you already know) my Dad passed away a few weeks ago, and with Fathers Day just around the corner and my head still so full of missing/wanting/needing Dad; I'm finding it hard to think about (or write about) much else.

However, I did find (whilst surfing 'compassion' on the net, hoping for inspiration) a beautiful 'Love Letter to the World, so beautiful, that I thought (rather than cop out altogether this month) I'd share it with you, dear reader...along with a 'Thank you' (I'll get to that in a bit), and a couple of *Compassion I wrote earlier* links... in case you missed them...:o)

'Love Letter to the World' was originally written by Kate Swoboda and is free to download Here

Enjoy :o)

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Before I get on to the recycling... I'd like to take a moment to say a huge, and heartfelt *Thank you* to all the gorgeous souls who supported me through Dads illness (Cancer), and who've continued to support me over the past few weeks since he passed away.

Losing Dad has been the hardest thing (to date) Iv'e ever had to bear, and you (you all know who you are), have been a Godsend...your kindness, friendship and *compassion*.has helped me (is helping me) to muddle through it.

..  

Thank you X

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The Recycling... 

Somebody's Son

{Excerpt}... Across the street, now sleeping 

somebody's son dreams hungers dream

Of Yorkshire pud, fish and chips

and mint choc chip ice-cream

Marie's Voice

{Excerpt}... There were no toys in the pram room for the little girl to play with, no cushions for her to snuggle into when she napped fell into an exhausted (scream worn) sleep - no padding to protect her, when out of fear, abandonment, desperation, she smashed her head against the floor... over and over again!

There were no hearers of responders to her screams, no wipes for her tear stained (often blood stained) cheeks, no cuddles for calm.... no attention, no love ...no compassion.

I sit down next to her, and imagining that she can see me/hear me, as I can her; I say, "It's okay darling... everything's gonna be okay... Compassion is on her way."
"She'll be here soon - she'll be your voice, and one day (though she doesn't yet know it herself) she'll be your mum.
She will fight for you, care for you, love you....and she'll be with you - always."

If you'd like to read the above Compassion posts in full just click on the titles and whoosh, you'll be gone...................................no wait, come back, there's more... ;o)

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This post is my (I've a muddled mind, but my hearts in the right place) contribution to June's 'One Thousand Voices for compassion' movement - a monthly event to promote and encourage good in the world.

On the 20th of each month bloggers and video-makers from all over the world come together to speak for compassion, in the hope of making a difference. 

#1000speak is a beautiful movement and one I'm proud to be a part of.  :o)

"Let ourselves care about strangers, act on behalf of those who are helpless, and encourage everyone we know to do the same." ~ Lizzi Rogers

There are so many #1000speak contributions, from bloggers all over the World... I encourage you to check them out if you get a chance, I'm sure you'll find some that resonate with you. 

You can do that by following @1000speak on Twitter or by checking out the '1000 Voices for Compassion' Face book page Here

#1000SPEAK FOR COMPASSION 

Speaking for GOOD on the 20th of every month

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Thank you as always for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x 

P.S Check this one out... not one of my rambles, but definitely worth a read... because, well... *sugar-mousiness*... what's not to like :o) Sometimes the village needs a little sugar

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