Oh God, Please Give me a Sign

What’s the most ridiculous idea you can think of?

I’m trying, but my mind is oatmeal.

(I published this post on the 90 Day Millionaire Challenge blog, but decided to repeat it here.)

Pet Rocks—remember those? They came. They went. They made the owner 15 million dollars. It was fun and not so ridiculous.

Okay, I can’t think of anything so I will go into, “What do people want?”

Food.

Sex.

Sex.

Food.

Money.

A lesson on How to Get Rich

They might want a little companionship.

Some want a spiritual understanding.

Children.

If they have children, something to entertain them.

Advice to parents? Well, everyone has their own ideas, and who wants anyone to tell them how to raise their kids anyway.

Well, maybe they will listen to Dr. Phil.

Vampire books.

Horror stories.

Action films. Sports

Food.

Drink.

Sex.

How to be healthy.

How to get healthy.

How to have good eyesight, good hearing, and good bowel movements.

How to avoid the dreaded diseases, such as heart disease, cancer, strokes, Alzheimer’s, dementia.

A book on How to get Everything You Desire, would be nice, but who knows How-to do that?

I got too serious.

Remember gratitude rocks? The story is that an African man visited a friend in the US. When the African got home his son was quite ill. He worried and wrote to his American friend asking for help.  His friend in the US sent him a gratitude rock chosen especially for him. The African held the rock, gave thanks for the health of his son, and his son recovered. He wrote to his friend thanking him and asked for more rocks to sell to his friends.

I think I ought to follow suit and sell gratitude rocks.  One can always get their own gratitude rock, but if a rock is packaged well and comes with a quote as well as suggestions of something to be grateful for—so much the better. It doesn't always have to be the big things we are grateful for. We can be grateful for the tuna fish sandwich we had for lunch.

Rocks harvested from a mountain creek in Oregon would be imbibed with magical snow melt. I’m thinking of such a creek. Each day you could hold your rock and be grateful for one thing--or more. I would bless the rock, too, so you would remember to be grateful every day.

I’m excited about this. After awhile people could write about how the rock helped them, the miracles that happened, and I would happily post stories.

This is a test.

If I sell five rocks here, I will start a site and sell rocks.  Five rocks! This is a “God, please give me a sign,” exercise. 

The other day my daughter began writing “Give me a sign,” and her pen stopped in mid-sentence. “Was that my sign?” she said.

Let’s see, Rocks under two ounces would cost $2.00 to ship. That’s a small rock.

Packaging would be about 50 cents.

If I charged $3.50 I would make a buck.

I’m going to test this concept with my own rock and my own gratitudes. My rock, though, doesn’t count as one of the five.

What do you say?

Want to try it?

Hit the Buy it Now PayPal button that directly follows this post, and we will be on our way. (The button was there, then it wasn't there. I will try again.)

Ta Da. Here's to  miracles!

Joyce

jewellshappytrails@gmail.com

P.S. I won’t guarantee that the rock will be pretty. River rocks tend to look good under water, but when dry, not so pretty.

“Good Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise”—Tennessee Ernie Ford

What Happens When a Love Affair is Over?

You sit numb and think of the candle light dinners, nights on the beach, days swimming at the Sheraton, snorkeling at #Waikoloa Beach. You remember #Waimea’s rolling hills high above the sea blanketed with such incredible green sparklers of tears sprang to your eyes. You remember the horses of #Waimea and the ride you took, and the sign at the #Panilo stable: Wranglers, you are perfect. Don’t change a thing.

You remember swimming in the bath-tub warm water at the Ponds and the little fishes that nibbled at your feet. You gave a lot to that relationship. You were committed, and then one day you realized you didn’t love her anymore. It was time to leave.

Pele, that great goddess of the volcano, jerked us around that last day, but we did it. We made it off the island, and like the pioneers of old, we moved to California.

Fascinating isn’t it how thoughts roll in like surf against lava rock? Here I am a couple of years off the island and I still can’t help but envy the way a good storm gets everyone’s attention. The storms of Hawaii rolled up against our house and onto the shore of my memory. I remember the rain pouring off the roof and splashing into the funnel that ferried it into the water tank of our catchment system. 

We had been having drought conditions so water was a priority. The rains came at last, but we were losing half the water as it splashed out of the rain gutter into the funnel that was askew from its down pipe. That pipe carried the water underground and into the above ground storage tank. I wanted to catch every drop, so I climbed the ladder to straighten the catchment funnel. Warm water rained on me and splashed off the gutter wetting me comfortably to the skin.

Next I moved over to the second tank to make sure it was getting its fair share from the opposite side of the roof. The only trouble was my cell phone was in my bra, and it took the same dousing as I did. Its reaction? It refused to work.

Technology helper to the rescue. “Take the phone apart,” he said, “put it in a plastic bag along with some rice, and then leave it for twenty-four hours.”

The next day, we were good to go—or to talk. That phone worked perfectly until we moved to California where I bought a new one. Rather a shame after if served me so well.

So what happens when a love affair is over? 

Time to begin a new one.