Hi world! :) my name is Michelle, I’m 19 and from Germany.
I’m into a lot of stuff all over bullet journal (including washi tape
collections and a whole ton of pens), to helping out in our animal
shelter near by, watching a lot of TV series (stuff like Supernatural,
Vampire Diaries, The 100, Lucifer, 13rw etc etc) and hearing all kinds
of music (open to nearly anything ^-^).
I’ve always wanted a pen pal friend to write letters and send packages
with random stuff and talking about everything and anything - never
found one unfortunately.
New Try :D
Write me…. like anything
Preferences: Not really. I guess age between 16-28 would be nice, but if you’re mature and kind it doesn’t really matter ^-^
Hello! This is Salem, his favorite colour is green and likes the sticky frogs jackets very much! Unlike many green iguanas, Salem loves other reptiles and has helped me tame many aggressive lizards when I ran an exotic shelter. We love your blog very much and we’re happy to see other exotic enthusiasts loving their often misunderstood friends, sending many pats and treaties to the sticky frogs!
Hello Salem! 😀🐸😀
Gumby sends you a very big kissie and speedboat of green iguana treaties!
Gumby loves your friendly face and very cool green onesie with ultimate spiny mohawk! She says thank you for helping out all the other lizard friends too! 😊🐸
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Hello everyone! Thank you for helping us surpass 1,000 followers! To celebrate, Goofy Shelter Cats wants to see your goofy shelter cat AND donate to a shelter of your choice!
1. Submit a picture of a cat you or your family adopted. We will accept submissions between May 4, 2017 12:00 AM EST and May 12, 2017 11:59 PM EST.
2. We will post all the submissions at the same time on May 13, 2017 12:00 PM EST.
3. The OP of the submission with the most notes on May 19 at 11:59 PM EST will choose a shelter for the Goofy Shelter Cats blog to donate $25 to!
- Submit cats adopted from a shelter and include details about your cat’s name and a few details about them.
- Submitter must be willing to share what shelter they want us to make a donation to - this could be the shelter you adopted your cat from, or any other shelter! We must be able to make the donation online, directly to the shelter. Please confirm that your are comfortable with us: 1) posting who won (just your URL), and 2) what shelter you asked us to donate to.
- Mod Kindred Spirit will send you a screenshot of the donation receipt.
- Reblog, like, reply - what counts is how many notes your submission gets! Just don’t spam your followers.
- You can reblog this post to spread the word, but it does not count for anything toward making the donation.
Thank you for all your love and support for Goofy Shelter Cats!
A Brother's Penance: (this is the edited copy I meant to send)
((congrats Shay. You’ve won a trip to feels purgatory.))
Dead. The four miserable letters spelling out a final departure from this life. Gone. A word that is equally as short and eternal. It means beyond mending, repair, salvation, and return. These two words should never be uttered in the same sentence as his brother’s newly tarnished name.
What kind of cruel twist fate was this? That he survived and Benjamin did not? The kiss of demise had been planted on Samuel’s bones. The stench of the hereafter had been entrenched in every pore and fiber of his clammy skin. Sickness had invaded him and promised a dismal fate. The Captain had nearly been one foot in the grave. Yet, it was the healthy Major, whose, time expired before his.
Sammy’s heart sinks into his gut and the chambers of his chest feel tight as if, he had been caught in a vice grip. “Are you sure?” He entreats of the courier. Who again, dismally shakes his head “yes” before handing him the parchment.
Samuel always considered that this was a possibility. He knew full-well that death lurks within every shadow. Thanks to their present occupation. Still, the news caught him entirely off guard.
Samuel would have given his life ten thousand times over if it meant sparing his brother.
Carefully inked words blur upon the tattered communication. Ben had died alone in the hands of the enemy. Guilt burns like acid at every corner of the younger Tallmadge’s conscience. Of all the terrible things this had to be the worst. Samuel had prayed with countless suffering souls until the angels to came to collect them. However, he hadn’t been there in his own brother’s time of need. No one comforted Ben in his final moments.
“I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m sorry,” Samuel apologizes, to no one in particular. Haunted indigo hues shift from the tent towards the camp mutineer’s graves. He can’t help but feel sick.
How does one carry on when one-half of your heart… no, half of you, is buried under a heap of frigid, unfeeling, and worm riddled soil? Samuel questions himself. If only he had been the one to find the grave instead of his brother. How could he ever live up to Ben’s legacy? Why had God taken the perfect son and left in his wake, the more flawed?
His father’s funeral lecture from Ecclesiastes chapter three returns to him, in spite of Samuel’s efforts to push it away. ‘To everything, there is a season. A time to every purpose under the heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which, has been planted…’ Sam braces himself against the next words. They do not bring him any comfort nor the promised peace that surpasses all understanding. “All goeth unto one place; all are of the dust, and all shalt turn to dust again.” No, not Benjamin! Samuel internally argues. Ben was more than a figure of ash, clay, dust, and bones. He was Samuel’s closest confidant, his best-friend, his teacher, and his protector. In fact, Ben and Sam’s lives had been so entwined that it was nearly impossible to reflect on a memory where one was present and the other was not. Save for the time Samuel had spent with the Sons of Liberty and the years upon the Jersey, of course.
From the very first breath that escaped Samuel’s lungs, his brother had continually been at his side. It was in Ben’s worn shoes that he took his first steps and it was in Ben’s footsteps, Samuel continually followed. With the elder boy’s loving coaxing, Samuel babbled his first words which, transformed into full sentences; until he couldn’t stop talking. Ben quickly became Sammy’s guiding compass. The one person who, always seemed to point True North; besides their father.
While it had, sometimes, felt like a burden following in the shadows of someone as intelligent, fearless, and spirited as Ben, Samuel cherished the benefits. He was quick to learn discernment from his elder brother’s mis-steps and mistakes. By watching Ben, Sammy acquired the art of taming his own temper. Understanding how to tame Ben’s followed soon after.
Samuel couldn’t bear the thought of his elder brother decaying in some shallow hole in the ground, without even a cross to make his final resting place! Even the gophers on the farm got more decent treatment! This was surely an outrage! But who was he to plead his cause with the enemy? They would surely do to him the same things they had to Ben. To them, he was a worthless peon. His aching soul is forced to slog through the muddied waters of grief.
On his knees the Captain pours out the oceanic depths of his shattered spirit, one stubborn tear-drop at a time. From the pit of his soul, he bitterly wails his heart-felt sentiment to the Author of All. “WHY? ABBA FATHER?! WHY… HIM?! AND NOT ME?! WAS MY LIFE NOT AS PLEASING OF A SACRIFICE? HAVE YOU TURNED YOUR BACK ON ME IN ANGER?! AM I BEING MADE TO SUFFER FOR SOME WRONG I HAVE DONE YOU? WHY THEN HAVE YOU NOT STRUCK ME DOWN?! BEN DIDN’T DESERVE THIS!”
No voice thunders from the clouds in reply. No answer comes in the shuddering utterances of the night’s wind. He is gifted only the accompaniment of a crippling, tomb-like silence.
Heaving lungs burn, heady with the sting of suffocation. Fierce sobs ravage his slender frame until even his bones find themselves rattling uncontrollably. Fingers claw at the ground striving in vain to bring himself closer to the heart of his, suddenly quiet, Maker.
It is in this moment he recollects Job’s lament. In a shallow, sotto voce, he rasps…..
“Let the stars of this day’s twilight be darkened; Let it wait for light but have none, and let it not see the breaking of dawn.
Why is light given to him who suffers, And life to the bitter of soul, Who long for death, but there is none, And dig for it more than for hidden treasures, Who rejoice greatly, And exalt when they find the grave? Why is light given to a man whose way is hidden, And whom God has hedged in? For my groaning comes at the sight of my food, My cries pour out like water. For what I fear comes upon me, And what I dread befalls me. I am not at ease, nor am I quiet. And I am not at rest, but turmoil comes.”
Surrender beckons. Bringing himself into a prostrate position, Samuel finds himself powerless, humbled in the presence of the jealous, omnipresent, omnipotent, Ruler of Heaven and Earth. Whose abundant love, like a flood, consumes everything in its path.
He presses his forehead flat against the unforgivingly cold ground. His quivering lips meet the well-trodden dirt. He no longer utters supplications. They make no impact. Meager words could not change what had happened, no matter how desperately he wished them too.
In the stillness, far beyond the gasping sounds of his air-hungry lungs, Samuel can once more hear his father’s voice. “How can one know the ways of God? How can one say…that… this tragedy happened for this reason or that?” He remembers his father asking the church after Moma Tallmadge died. The church grew unusually quiet. Not a scuffle of shoes or squeak of the bench could be heard. Three-year-old Samuel turned to Ben who, then shrugged his shoulders in reply. As if, to say, he held naught the desired answer. Azure hues shifted in alarm back to his father as the pause lingered for a moment more. Then without hesitation, his father answers his own inquiry. “ We cannot. There is no striving against the divine providence of God, nor altering the course of things. Why… is irrelevant. We must trust in Providence even if we do not understand.” When Providence deals such heavy blows, it feels impossible to put one’s faith in the things unseen. Samuel finally understood that extreme spiritual battle. He could suddenly comprehend the reasoning as to why some refused to pray with the last breaths leaving their lungs. His eyes were finally open to the bitterness and darkness that jaded so many hearts for it was now implanted in his own. While it would not vanquish Samuel’s unyielding faith, it definitely shook it.
This is the start of an eternity without his dearest friend. Today would be the first of many days to pass without the comfort of his brother’s embrace, the warmth of his laugh, and his well-intended advice. Benjamin would never see the good his efforts and countless sacrifices had wrought. He’d never see the end of this bloody conflict nor the birth of the new nation they were struggling to defend. He’d never get married in that good old Setauket church, the way they planned, when they were no older than Sprout Woodhull. He’d never get the opportunity to grow old or know what it is like to have a family. There would be no birthdays, no Christmases, no Thanksgivings to Celebrate and share with his elder brother. No playful nudges, switching places, or pulling pranks… either.
And while time would stand still for Benjamin, it would not halt for Samuel. His face was already growing two days worth stubble in childish patches. He’d be forced to bear witness to the dawning of each new day. Likewise, the day’s plunging into the abyss of darkness. Samuel would find no rest, no peaceful slumber. His steps could not cease because he had no footsteps to follow in nor a guide to lead him. He’d be forced to march along to the endless cadence of the drums, the steady ticking of the clock. Guilt and shame would dog his every movement like the clanking of iron chains. He would forever be a prisoner to his shortcomings. Even washed in the grace of God, Samuel would always carry this heavy chip on his shoulder. He could never deserve absolution for being absent when his brother needed him the most.
For now, the anguish, guilt, and shame would his comeuppance. Time would make sure he paid his full penance before being reunited with Ben.
My lunch for the day was at my favorite homeless shelter’s (Our Community Place) Friday Lunch Restaurant 😌 I had a kale salad with radishes, onions, raisins, and a tarragon dressing as my starter. A pulled pork and peach sandwich with some homemade sweet potato chips for my entree. And for dessert.. hot apple strudel 😋
Yeah… I know, it may not be the best (or healthiest) lunch, but its only $8 and all the money made is considered a donation to Our Community Place. Zach and I have been going for a while now, we are considered regulars! Going there just makes me feel so happy, I am hoping to maybe start volunteering when needed!