<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8893222885888886527</id><updated>2011-08-04T00:13:39.093-07:00</updated><category term='befriending courage'/><title type='text'>Without Mom</title><subtitle type='html'>Women who grew up without a mother, sharing their real lives - the funny, sad, joyous, awful, beautiful, victorious parts of it.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Vanessa Renee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='13' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/Sql5BAq_rOI/AAAAAAAAAUg/vqw9HPV6Cuo/S220/GCleft1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8893222885888886527.post-8094552722188610766</id><published>2009-08-10T14:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T15:04:44.652-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Joy Comes in the Morning!!!!!!!  Yes it Does, Yes it Does!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok. So here's a quick update.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The poetry reading went excellently. One of my poems was about a Katrina soldier. Notice I didn't call her a victim. Her life was an amazing testament to staying in the fight - determined to WIN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I read my poem, a lady in the audience who survived Katrina came to me in tears. My heart melted. Just the thought that something which gave me heart palpitations (the thought of expressing my innermost emotions) - brought someone to tears, was more than my heart could bear. It was a wonderful moment. It was also proof that when we know we have been tapped to do something - that we MUST do it. No chickening out. Easy for me to say today - I know. I sure wasn't this brave a month ago. But, you know, I'm still on my life's journey too - so I hope you'll cut me a break every now and then.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/SoCZYolwyaI/AAAAAAAAAG8/kJRyfCPy5Es/s1600-h/microphones.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368459404317346210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/SoCZYolwyaI/AAAAAAAAAG8/kJRyfCPy5Es/s200/microphones.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/SoCZCezjU9I/AAAAAAAAAG0/HLV8s-PAy6I/s1600-h/microphones.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yes, everyone loved both of my poems. I saw a couple yesterday and the woman said to me, hey, are you the poetry lady? You did a great job! People I do not know refer to me as the poetry lady. Unbelievable. I've NEVER thought of myself as a poet or an artist - but I have come to realize that that is exactly who I am. Wow - to wake up at the age of...well, the age is not too important here, but to &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;know who you are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; is an amazing epiphany. I do many things, but I am a poet and an artist. Ha, ha, ha. I have to laugh. I have discovered who I have always been. I sincerely hope you do the same. No matter how old or young you are, I pray that you are able to &lt;strong&gt;say&lt;/strong&gt; who you are. The keys and the clues are all around you. Put the puzzle pieces of your life together and discover you. It will be the best find you'll ever make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blessings to you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vanessa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8893222885888886527-8094552722188610766?l=girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8094552722188610766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/08/joy-comes-in-morning-yes-it-does-yes-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/8094552722188610766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/8094552722188610766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/08/joy-comes-in-morning-yes-it-does-yes-it.html' title='Joy Comes in the Morning!!!!!!!  Yes it Does, Yes it Does!'/><author><name>Vanessa Renee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='13' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/Sql5BAq_rOI/AAAAAAAAAUg/vqw9HPV6Cuo/S220/GCleft1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/SoCZYolwyaI/AAAAAAAAAG8/kJRyfCPy5Es/s72-c/microphones.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8893222885888886527.post-7834944471616920057</id><published>2009-07-10T05:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T06:08:49.597-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='befriending courage'/><title type='text'>Courage Knows My Name</title><content type='html'>I am not quite sure when courage learned my name, but at times i wish we were still strangers. For the past nine days, ever since I accepted the request to write and read two poems for a Jazz night concert, I have been a nervous wreck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoy having opportunitites to speak, but the thought of putting my innermost emotions (via poems), thoughts and passions on stage in front of hundreds of people I don't know, is rather frightening. It's days like these that make me wonder why in the world I constantly make myself so vulnerable. Obviously there's no backing out now. I just hope I can keep my nerves calm during the day. Once I am up on that stage, the jitters should subside, but until then I am going to have to keep myself occupied so I do not become overwhelmed with thoughts of no one liking my poetry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the temporary unease circulating through my veins right now, I am determined to enjoy the beautiful music, great singing, and laughs with friends. The calls I receive from courage are not always welcomed, but I am appreciative of his persistence. It is through this trying relationship I have learned to not hide from, but actively participate in the experiences life brings my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May you dare to do the same...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8893222885888886527-7834944471616920057?l=girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/feeds/7834944471616920057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/07/courage-knows-my-name.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/7834944471616920057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/7834944471616920057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/07/courage-knows-my-name.html' title='Courage Knows My Name'/><author><name>Vanessa Renee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='13' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/Sql5BAq_rOI/AAAAAAAAAUg/vqw9HPV6Cuo/S220/GCleft1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8893222885888886527.post-2425521901889373233</id><published>2009-07-06T15:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T16:13:25.337-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Taken Me a Week to Cool Off</title><content type='html'>I had to wait a week to write this, otherwise it would have sounded like, "Wah, wah, wah." I got, (yes I said got), my second traffic ticket five days ago. Last Wednesday, to be exact. A day I decided to take off, just because. I had no particular thing to do that day, I just wanted to have a nice, enjoyable work-free eight hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the day did not turn out at all as I had imagined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Admittedly, I was going XX on a XX speed limit road. But it was the middle of the day. The road is no longer a residential road. They have increased the number of lanes and adjusted all of the traffic lights to accomodate the load. There were six motorcycled police officers pulling folks like me at 1:00 in the afternoon - HELLO - it was a speed trap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was not a happy camper. The police officer who wrote me the ticket didn't care. Neither of us smiled of course. I was unhappy but not crazy. I did not open my mouth to say anything. I just took my ticket - the second one I've received in over twenty years of driving - from the same spot about one year ago that I got (yes I said got) the first one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I drove home I asked myself who I was upset with. It's a fact that the police officers knew they would make a few thousand dollars that day. But I also gave them a reason to stop me. The truth can sometimes be so inconvenient. I'd rather harp on the nerve of the county to make up their shortfall on us poor residents, but the fact that I &lt;em&gt;was &lt;/em&gt;going XX miles on a XX speed limit road, would not go out of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to just calm down, accept that I got (...) a ticket and made a commitment to slow down. Maybe that was the point, I thought. I rush everything. All the time. I want work done quickly, meals in seconds and my hair dry in minutes. I took a couple of deep breaths accepted the fact that I earned that ticket and decided to use the experience to improve my behavior in other areas of my life. &lt;br /&gt;By the way, is there anything a community can do about speed traps? &lt;em&gt;Just kidding&lt;/em&gt; (&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;sort of&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8893222885888886527-2425521901889373233?l=girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2425521901889373233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/07/its-taken-me-week-to-cool-off.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/2425521901889373233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/2425521901889373233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/07/its-taken-me-week-to-cool-off.html' title='It&apos;s Taken Me a Week to Cool Off'/><author><name>Vanessa Renee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='13' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/Sql5BAq_rOI/AAAAAAAAAUg/vqw9HPV6Cuo/S220/GCleft1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8893222885888886527.post-6065968815691513378</id><published>2009-06-29T14:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T15:28:05.600-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Have you seen it?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Today I was reminded of one of the most excellent, honest films i have seen in a long time...Trouble the Water... If you haven't seen it, you need to get, rent or buy this film. It is AMAZING. (young people, get an OK from your parents first - the language is raw and real). This is Katrina, drop by drop as it's NEVER been shown before. You are taken into the waters, and just when you think you're not gonna make it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I saw this film about three months ago, and for weeks it did not leave my mind. I was touched by it in so many ways and on so many levels. It should have won EVERY award it was up for. I am usually not at a loss for words, but am still somewhat speechless as to how deeply this film impacted me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Over the past months one thing has become more glaringly clear for me than it ever was in the past. TRUTH is powerful. THE TRUTH will set us free. THE TRUTH as Kimberly recorded it, changed her future and probably many of those who witnessed &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; truth. Thank you Kim, BlackColdMadina, for being brave enough to share you and your life with us. You have no idea what your honesty, courage and unspeakable kindness has done for so many. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I do not know if you will ever find this post in the great big blogosphere world, but if you do, I want you to know that I pray you, your husband and children are doing well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I would love to hear others' view / reaction to Trouble the Water.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I dare you to be amazing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8893222885888886527-6065968815691513378?l=girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6065968815691513378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/06/have-you-seen-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/6065968815691513378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/6065968815691513378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/06/have-you-seen-it.html' title='Have you seen it?'/><author><name>Vanessa Renee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='13' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/Sql5BAq_rOI/AAAAAAAAAUg/vqw9HPV6Cuo/S220/GCleft1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8893222885888886527.post-6699690297253099278</id><published>2009-06-28T04:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T03:19:49.574-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What do you remember?</title><content type='html'>If you lost your mother as a child, what are your earliest memories of her? Were you too young to have any memories?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8893222885888886527-6699690297253099278?l=girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6699690297253099278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-do-you-remember.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/6699690297253099278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/6699690297253099278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-do-you-remember.html' title='What do you remember?'/><author><name>Vanessa Renee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='13' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/Sql5BAq_rOI/AAAAAAAAAUg/vqw9HPV6Cuo/S220/GCleft1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8893222885888886527.post-7021470312816401608</id><published>2009-06-28T03:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T03:19:49.584-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Music and Hot Combs</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Even though i was very young (five) when my mother died, thankfully i have a few remaining memories. The most vivid remembrances i have are those of the music, smiles and smoke. Music and people seemed to fill our home all the time. The voices of Barbara Streisand, Diana Ross and Marvin Gaye were heard so often, i thought they were members of my family too. My love of music is rooted in those early days. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/SkdNuKbJCXI/AAAAAAAAABs/Z2fSy4mQYdI/s1600-h/album-smaller2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352332137620638066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 270px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/SkdNuKbJCXI/AAAAAAAAABs/Z2fSy4mQYdI/s320/album-smaller2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Forever burned into my memory is the sight and sound of swirling, sizzling smoke, rising from the straightening comb my mother used on the women who sat in our kitchen chairs. I was in awe of both how my mother used that comb and how she made the women laugh and smile while she did their hair. I don't remember the comb being a pleasant time for me though. Unh, unh, not at all. That comb was hot and i dreaded it being so close to my skin. If i had my choice, i would have gladly exchanged my seat in the hot hair chair, for the seat that would have given me a few more memories of watching my mom make people smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8893222885888886527-7021470312816401608?l=girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/feeds/7021470312816401608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/06/music-and-hot-combs.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/7021470312816401608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/7021470312816401608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/06/music-and-hot-combs.html' title='Music and Hot Combs'/><author><name>Vanessa Renee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='13' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/Sql5BAq_rOI/AAAAAAAAAUg/vqw9HPV6Cuo/S220/GCleft1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/SkdNuKbJCXI/AAAAAAAAABs/Z2fSy4mQYdI/s72-c/album-smaller2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8893222885888886527.post-5278996630894604471</id><published>2009-06-28T02:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T03:19:49.591-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sharing the struggles and victories of living without mom</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If you lost your mother early in life, then you understand our need to talk.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, what's your story? We want to know. Someone else needs to hear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8893222885888886527-5278996630894604471?l=girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5278996630894604471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/06/sharing-struggles-and-victories-of.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/5278996630894604471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8893222885888886527/posts/default/5278996630894604471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://girlswithoutmom.blogspot.com/2009/06/sharing-struggles-and-victories-of.html' title='Sharing the struggles and victories of living without mom'/><author><name>Vanessa Renee</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='13' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hjltBEJw3uU/Sql5BAq_rOI/AAAAAAAAAUg/vqw9HPV6Cuo/S220/GCleft1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
