Category: Uncategorized

Is That A Big Fish…

On By charminfothIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Or are you just happy to see me?

Dating at any age isn’t easy, it’s always just a little bit awkward. But dating at a certain age is a whole new fresh hell.

I guess this is where I put out the disclaimer that if you are one of my more straight-laced readers, you might want to skim past this one. I am going to throw some shade and lay down some hard-won wisdom. I am by no means an expert and I still have questions of my own, but things are weird out there.

As many of you know, I lost my husband over 2 years ago, and last year I got back out on the dating scene. At this moment, I’m not sure why it seemed like the thing to do? Since I am a student of life I thought I’d share, maybe you will learn from my mistakes. I’ve also made some fascinating observations, I will keep it PG, but there will be some mild subtext.

Back in the day, you met people out and about, while you were living life, doing what you liked, and you had a conversation. You hit it off and then dating happened along with all the awkwardness, exploration, and testing that ensued. That doesn’t happen anymore. It’s all text conversations, apps, scams, and catfishing.

Now my observations are strictly from the female perspective, but I am sure that some of these go both ways. Let’s face it, there are plenty of ladies out there who aren’t what they say they are, either. All I can say is, ask a lot of questions. Questions are your friend.

But I digress, let’s get to a few things to be aware of:

If they seem too good to be true, they probably are. If they look like a supermodel with washboard abs and you look like the StayPuff Marshmallow Man with bedhead in pajamas, they are scamming you. (No disrespect, ladies, I’m fluffy and fine with it, but I know when something just doesn’t feel right.)

If they immediately are in love with you, they are a scammer. (I’m awesome, but I don’t want anyone telling me they love me during my first text conversation.)

If they immediately try to get you off whatever your choice dating app is and ask you to download Snapchat, WhatsApp, Google Text, or whatever, you need to rethink and ask a BUNCH of questions about them. (I once asked a guy if he would take a selfie of himself holding his driver’s license so he could prove he was who he said he was. He couldn’t. I was ok with it.)

If they refuse to call you, facetime, video chat, or meet up, chances are they are not who they say they are.

Just be careful out there and when in doubt, talk to your friends about whoever you may be chatting up. They will want to give you love life advice anyway, and this way they can live vicariously through you. LOL!

Now onto the fun part, the observations.

My first observation has to be that 99% of the men have photos with really BIG fish. In my mind, this has to be compensation of some kind. I mean, it’s not the size of the fish, it’s the motion of the ocean, right? Are they showing me I won’t starve if the zombie apocalypse comes? Personally, I don’t find fish sexy, but maybe that’s just me.

The next observation was how many men wanted to go on hikes in the wilderness for a first date. Ladies, I don’t know about you, but I do not want to go off into the wilderness with some guy I met over a text message. Something about that just screams AX MURDERER. Dude, take her out for coffee, I know you hate to pay $5 for a Starbucks if it isn’t going to go somewhere, but you will live, I promise, and more importantly, she will. And, you might get a second date that includes a hike.

Observation number three, images may not be as they appear. There are SO many aspects to this observation. I do not know why, as a culture, we are so obsessed with filters. Just be real. Take a bath, wear clothes (more about this later), comb your hair (if you have any), and for God’s sake, SMILE. Get yourself out in some nice natural light and take a photo, or better yet, have a friend take your photo. I know you will be tempted to put a filter on it, just don’t. When you show up at the coffee shop she will actually be able to pick you out of the line at the counter to say hello. Otherwise, what happens…you walk in looking like a dried apple that is nothing like the photos, and she is going to be disappointed, and probably go to the bathroom and never come back. It’s false advertising. It’s wrong.

Observation number four, clothes, wear them. Ladies, I don’t know about you, but I like to unwrap a package. A nice form-fitting shirt and jeans, or a suit. Yes, please. I like it when there is something left to the imagination. Unless you look like Jason Momoa, The Rock, Chris Evans, or whatever heartthrob is on the cover without his shirt on, keep your clothes on. And for all that is holy, please don’t take a selfie of yourself lying in bed. Creepy. Most women I’ve talked to said that is a hard pass, we don’t want to see it. Also, don’t take a selfie of yourself looking down at the camera, you look like a Shar Pei who needs time at the groomer. It is never going to be your best look.

Observation number five, be who you say you are. Just be honest. Do you really want to start a relationship based on some false interpretation of who you are? That is a recipe for failure. Both parties in a relationship deserve honesty. I’m sorry, I am unapologetically who I am. If you don’t like me for who I am, how could I ever like you for who you are?

Trust me everything is better when you can be comfortable in your own skin. I have had a few great dates, that ended in new friends and nothing more and that’s ok. I know what I want, and more importantly, what I don’t want, and I’m not afraid to share that information. I am not unkind, but I am honest.

Oh, and yes, there have been bad dates as well. All I can say is don’t take things too personally or let them rob you of your peace. I appreciate honesty. I much prefer a straight-up conversation, but that doesn’t mean you get to belittle me. I won’t stand for anything less than respect. Passive-aggressive doesn’t play well, just say what you mean, and don’t manipulate me. I believe you get what you give. If you don’t respect me, don’t expect me to respect you.

I have learned that life is too short for drama and chaos. Many people mistake drama for passion and that is sad to me. Once you learn that passion can exist without drama, your whole world opens up. There is so much passion in art, in music, in everyday life but it is often overlooked, it’s the little things. Pay attention to the little things.

That old saying that you have to love yourself before others can love you, rings true. Right now, that’s where I am. I like my own company. If I can’t stand myself, who else will? I love who I am. I’m a sassy, outgoing, straightforward, funny, clumsy, independent woman, and definitely a work in progress. The progress is where the fun comes in. Be happy being you.

I hope my ramblings have been helpful or at least entertaining. I will close with the chorus from one of my favorite Keb Mo songs:

But if nobody loves you
and you feel like dust on an empty shelf
just remember
you can love yourself

Thanks for reading.

Our life with Shiloh the Wonder Dog

On By charminfothIn UncategorizedLeave a comment
Shiloh after her first bath, just before coming home with me.

In September of 2018 I became a rescue “mom” of a large white husky mix dog.

I work for Compassion Coalition, an organization in Knoxville that helps churches, organizations and businesses help people in need in the community of Knoxville, Tennessee. Compassion Coalition runs a call center where people in need, church benevolence staff or caseworkers can call in and find community resources for a variety of needs.

On this particular day in September I answered the phone and spoke with a local caseworker who assits the senior population. She had been called on to do a wellness check for an elderly gentleman who had been put in the hospital. Seems he didn’t have water at his home and had walked to the corner store to get a case of bottled water for he and his dog when he became dizzy and passed out on the walk home. A couple driving past saw this and stopped. In the hospital he became very concerned about his dog at home alone with no water.

The caseworker, with his permission, went to the home to find living conditions in such a state that no human or animal should have to live. By this point they knew the elderly gentleman would not be able to return to his home with his health condition. He prayed for a good home for his dog while he was getting better.

Now the caseworker was tasked to find assistance for a dog, Shiloh. After telling me the story of the elderly gentleman, I recommeded a vet that would come to the house and access the dog’s physical condition, which was in a terrible state. She was filthy and covered in excrement, so badly covered you could not tell that she was a white dog, she had sores all over and was so overweight she could barely walk.

The vet then called me and told me about the state of the home and the dog. The Spirit told me I needed to help this poor animal. So sight unseen, I decided to become a foster-mom. I didn’t even tell my husband. I met the vet and the caseworker at the gentleman’s house and the neighbors let us use their garden hose to give Shiloh a much needed bath. I called my husband and told him what I was doing and asked him to meet me there after he got off work. He just laughed at me and said ok.

After 3 hours of scrubbing the matted, smelly fur a different dog emerged. I was stunned, my husband was speechless. God works in mysterious ways. She bore a striking resemblance to the husky we had for 16 years.

Snow our 1st Husky is on the left, Shiloh the Wonder-Dog is on the Right.

The vet was amazed that she was still alive, considering the conditions of the home. It was so bad, the vet wore a mask and waders into the home to retrieve the dog’s crate. So from that point she was dubbed a Wonder-Dog.

Shiloh sat still through the 3 hour bath and seemed to enjoy the attention, but was so heavy she couldn’t climb into the backseat of my Kia Soul for me to take her to my farm. We had to lift her the 3 steps into my house when we got there.

We began the joyous journey of nursing Shiloh back to health. I say joyous because it is such a miracle to see the joy of life return to one of God’s creatures. Dog’s really do smile. To see actual wonder cross her face as she got healthy and explored the outdoors was such a gift to me. Again she earned her name as Shiloh the Wonder Dog. We walked 3 times a day, we enjoyed playing ball in the yard and chasing rabbits. Her wounds healed and she loved life on the farm. The vet was amazed at her progress. She went from 140 lbs to 85 lbs and had pep in her step again.

The elderly gentleman who owned Shiloh, loved her and she was his only companion for the 6 years after his wife passed away. He was heartbroken and fell into depression, suffered from PTSD and without family thought he had no resources to help him. His caseworker was able to get him the much needed treatment he needed and get him into an assisted living home where he now has a community who cares about him and he is doing so much better. He was unable to take Shiloh to the new place, so we became her forever home. We asked if he wanted to see her, but he didn’t want to confuse her. He was just happy that she was happy and taken care of.

Shiloh was a happy dog who never complained, but liked to talk, like most huskies do. We often had “conversations” about life on the sofa. After just over two years with us Shiloh crossed over the rainbow bridge yesterday. She will be missed, but I didn’t want her story to go untold. Had it not been for Compassion Coalition I would have missed this opportunity to make a difference in the life of this sweet doggie and the difference she made in my life is a blessing I will never forget.

Never pass up your opportunity to do good in this world. It will benefit you more than you can imagine.

Daddy’s Girl

On By charminfothIn encouragement, Faith, Love, UncategorizedLeave a comment
Photo of Charmin, Homer and Wendy
Me, Daddy Homer and my best friend Wendy – Circa 1969

Children are great observers of all that goes on in their world. They absorb things like a sponge. Adults often think that children won’t be affected by what the grownups do, but that is far from the case.

While kids see and soak up all that is going on around them, they are not mature enough to properly interpret what they see and feel. This can lead to wounds that run deep, especially when there is no one to help them correctly process what they see and feel.

After my adoption at 4, we lived in Illinois until I was 7. For those first few years after the adoption, things were okay. I enjoyed being a kid, for the most part. The age difference between my new siblings and myself made me feel like an only child. I think I was a likable kid, I was best friends with the little boy who lived behind us and with another little girl, who like me had been adopted. I had cousins who visited often, were close to my age and we had lots of fun together and I loved them all.

Not long after my adoption my birth mom moved in across the street with my older sister. That sounds strange, right? It was both good and confusing.

I suppose I should interject here and say that after my adoption, I knew what had happened, my adoption wasn’t ever a secret from me. I wasn’t allowed to call her mommy anymore, but I knew she was my birth mother and she always tried to live close to us. Which again, was both good and confusing.

My new Sissy got married and moved to Alaska, my new Brother went into the Army and was stationed in Germany.

The vibe in my house became tense around the time the older kids were close to moving out. As a kid, you don’t know exactly what is going on between the grownups in your house, but you hear things and pick up on the unpleasant feelings. You know things aren’t what they should be and you piece things together, your picture may not be quite right, but it is your reality. I knew trouble brewed and just three years after my adoption, the marriage of my new mom and dad fell apart.

This prompted my new mom to move to Kentucky where both sides of my family were from. My Daddy built my Mommy a house, but he didn’t come to live with us in it. He brought me presents for holidays and birthdays, but was never there for the cake. I remember crying, wondering why he didn’t want to spend time with me.

When we lived in Illinois we would sit together in his recliner and watch Hee Haw together. I felt safe, I felt special, I felt like a Daddy’s girl. He was there and I loved him deeply.

Then he wasn’t there. My Daddy’s girl phase was shortlived. I was seven, and I thought it was my fault that yet another person I loved cast me aside. From the time I was seven until Daddy died when I was ten, I saw him a handful of times, and it broke my little heart. Once again I was fatherless.

On the day Daddy Homer died, I knew I would never be a Daddy’s girl, never have a father who would watch me grow up, cheer me on, be proud of me on graduation day, or walk me down the aisle, I vividly remember because I lost two fathers that day.

I was in 5th grade. My birth mother came to the school to get me, in the middle of the day, and that never happened. I always rode the bus home. I remember being nervous when I got in the car, I was excited and anxious, I knew something was up, but couldn’t figure out what it was.

She told me she had something to tell me. I don’t think it was easy for her, she seemed to rush through it as she said Daddy Homer had a massive heart attack and died. I just remember feeling numb and what sounded like bees buzzing in my ears as I tried to make sense of it.

After several minutes of quiet, I had to ask a question that I felt led to hope. What about my birth father? I had wondered about him often; if he knew about me; if he cared about me; where was he? We had had conversations about my birth father before, I would ask questions and she would answer. Did I looked like him (I have his mouth); what does he look like (he was 6’3″ and thin, stawberry blond, ruddy complexion, smile that would light up a room); things like that. I always enjoyed those talks, it connected me to family somehow. I wanted to know where he was in all this? If I would ever know him?

Me with my birth parents, Floe Smiddy and James Monroe – Circa 1967
One of only three photos I have of my birth father.

I think we all long to know about our lineage. We want to know where we come from, what’s our family history? We long to be connected to something larger than ourselves. I think that is why there are so many verses in the Bible about who begat whom. And why Ancestory.com has such a huge following.

But back to my story, after the questions about my birth father poured out, my world crashed again when I asked if I would ever meet my birth father and she told me no, she was sorry, but that he had died too. Not only had he died, he had died a violent death from a gunshot in a bar fight.

He was dead. No reunion, no stories about how he had loved me from afar, he would never know me, never be proud of me, never love me. And BOOM, just like that, a little girl’s childhood dreams of having a Daddy, being Daddy’s little girl vanished.

My hurt was quiet and deep. Honestly, it hurts me to this day. Father’s Day became a day I ignored.

I longed for a traditional family, one that made sense. I had a hard time explaining my family tree to my friends. Heck, I still have a hard time explaining my family tree.

I struggled with resentment, abandonment issues and people-pleasing. That feeling of restlessness and not fitting in plagued me. I couldn’t make sense of the pain inside me. It would be an ongoing struggle throughout my life.

In high school my best friend and her family loved on me and took me to church with them. They introduced me to a Daddy who will never leave me.

In John 14:18 Jesus says; “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.” He sees me, lost without a father. 

2 Corinthians 6:18 And,“I will be a Father to you, and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty.” He knows I need Him, He knows I need the feeling of family.

I didn’t know at the time just how much I would need that unconditional love that God offers, but I am so glad I accepted it. I can’t imagine how I would have made it through life without being able to rely on God’s love for me. As I said in a previous blog, my story has many chapters and in all those chapters I needed something I could rely on.

Have a railed against God? Yes! Have I complained and cried and asked for things to be different? Yes! Have I blamed God? Yes! Have I been angry with God? Yes! I am human, I make mistakes, I screw things up, I get things wrong. We all do.

Being a child of God is NOT about BEING perfect, it is about acknowledging that YOU AREN”T PERFECT and turning your life over to the One who is, who can help you carry your burdens and insecurities, listen to your troubles and guide you through the deepest, scariest wilderness into the light.

My life has been a wilderness in a lot of ways. I have gone waaaay off the rails, but He has always guided me back. I will never be perfect this side of heaven and God knows that. He knows and He loves me anyway. God is love. And love is what He wants from you.

I recently read Father Gregory Boyle’s Barking to the Choir: The Power of Radical Kinship. The quote below resonated with my soul.

“Moral outrage is the opposite of God; it only divides and separates what God wants for us, which is to be united in kinship. Moral outrage doesn’t lead us to solutions – it keeps us from them. It keeps us from moving forward toward a fuller, more compassionate response to members of our community who belong to us, no matter what they’ve done.”

You see, if I am outraged that I missed out on being a Daddy’s girl, if I hold on to that hurt and anger, if I hold on to that outrage over anything someone else does, it separates me from God, not by His doing, by my own. It becomes me pulling away from God and not moving forward. God wants us to be near Him, He wants us to find solutions through Him and love others no matter what they’ve done.

Sometimes we become so caught up in religion and the “right way” to do things we forget, it is not about the building or the pastor or even the service, it is about the LOVE. How we walk with and care for each other. God is Love. God loves everyone. He calls us to love everyone. So I will leave you with this verse.

John 13:34 – A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.

2/8/2023 I received a message from someone who has the same DNA. Turns out I have a family I didn’t know anything about. I haven’t met them yet, but I’m looking forward to it. Hopefully it will be soon. That will be another story.

Thanks for reading.

​The Random Puzzle Piece

On By charminfothIn Uncategorized1 Comment

I have often felt like the random puzzle piece picked up and tossed into the wrong box, never really fitting in anywhere. Have you ever forced a puzzle piece into a place it didn’t belong? Even though the shape is almost right the picture doesn’t match. That piece always gets pulled out and thrown back into the pile, hoping to find the right fit later.

Child holding a puzzle piece of home

It took me years to be comfortable in my own skin, to own my own space, and be content with who I am.

I was a “surprise” child, with a different father than my 4 older siblings. I didn’t fit in their puzzle.

My birth father had a family of his own. Somewhere on the planet, I have 6 half-brothers and sisters (one within a month of my birthday) I have never met. So that was not the puzzle I fit into. Although, I have always been curious about them.

Baby Rhonda with a neighbor in Cincinnati Ohio
Me with one of our neighbors, circa 1967.

I was born in Cincinnati and lived there until I was 2. My mom was going through a divorce in the 60s and in a dysfunctional relationship with my birth father, so I had barriers to overcome from the beginning. As a broken family we struggled (being a newly single mom in the 60s couldn’t have been easy) we moved a lot and there wasn’t a lot of stability.

I remember being sad, my mom cried a lot, spent a lot of time in bed, she had headaches. As kids, we were shuffled about between sitters, friends whoever could look after us. My older siblings went to live with their dad, but that wasn’t my family. I think the younger of my brothers, who is seven years my senior, struggled with same feelings, not fitting in the family mold. He must have spent more time with mom in my early days because we have always had a bond. I think the break made all of us long for that perfect family.

Boby Rhonda's first birthday
My first birthday.

One of my first technicolor memories is of me stealing my brother’s matchbox cars, which were sacred, when he tried to take them back I hit him with a little wind-up music box that looked like a TV. Even though I wailed on him, we were tight.

Another of my early memories is being shuffled into the back seat of a Ford Mustang very late at night with everything we owned rolled up in a pink chenille bedspread. I remember it vividly because the chenille left a pattern on my face where I had fallen asleep on top of it. I was probably two or so. When I woke up we were in a new place, Lisle, Illinois, in a house with new people, my aunt and uncle. I don’t know if they knew it then, but they were soon to become my new mom and dad.

James Monroe sitting at the kitchen table among beer and booze bottles
My biological father, James Monroe.

My mom struggled with depression and at the age of four, my mom’s relationship with my father had fallen apart, she had a breakdown, couldn’t hold down a job and was struggling. She gave me up for adoption to her sister, my aunt. My two cousins, became my brother and sister, I think they were 16 and 18. While my new family loved me, took care of me, fed and clothed me, I still didn’t seem to fit. I didn’t understand what had happened to my family, what happened to my brother, where did he go? I had so many questions but as a kid, I didn’t know how to ask them and if I did, I couldn’t process the answers.

I remember riding on the elevator for my adoption hearing. It was in a big building and I was afraid of the elevator. I didn’t want to get in. I was told if I behaved, we would get milkshakes afterward. Isn’t it funny, the things that you remember? After that day, I became someone else. How strange for a 4-year-old.

At the adoption my name was changed, not just my last name, but my first name, too. I remember struggling with that, not knowing when or how to answer people. I think it started as a nickname before the adoption, as I was named after a country song, and when it played, I danced. But that day everything shifted. I had a new mom and dad, new brother and sister.

Baby Rhonda with a neighbor on a blanket in the yard laughing
Me with neighbor, circa 1966.

All in all, I think I was a pretty happy kid, even though I couldn’t make sense of so many things in my world. I spent a lot of time with cousins when family came around. My mom’s family was a big one and most of my aunts and uncles had 3 or 4 kids. So when cousins got together we could get pretty loud. I loved those times of family. I always wanted to be like them, they knew each other, they got each other. They fit. They belonged. Their puzzles were in tact.

I’ve never been able to pin down why I always felt so out of place, so different. Was it inherited from a father I never knew, from a mother who struggled with feeling like an outsider herself, was being shuffled around as a kid? In the long run, does it matter? I think that feeling set me up for struggles along the way and it wasn’t until much later in life that I realized, everyone is different, no family is perfect, no story has only one chapter.

Different is what challenges us to search within ourselves, to search out God and what He has for us.

In Psalms 142 David prays while he is in a cave. He is alone, afraid, isolated, he prays for God to bring him out. I love the way The Message reads, in verse 3 David says, “When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, Then you knew my path. Later on in the chapter, he says, “Get me out of this dungeon so I can thank you in public. Your people will form a circle around me and you’ll bring me showers of blessing!”

I want to encourage you. If you are feeling different today, that’s ok. If you feel like a missing piece of the puzzle, that’s ok. Don’t let your past bog you down, that’s the enemy. That’s only one chapter. Please believe down to your soul that you are fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works. (Psalms 139:14) It may be your struggles and works that give someone else strength and courage.

My story has many more chapters, some good, some bad. Stick with me and you will hear more as I unravel all that is me.

All of those chapters make me the person I am. I am thankful for that gift. The person God created me to be, that person is different, has lots of flaws, is wrong a lot of the time, that person is vulnerable, but that’s ok, too. Too often people try to make a puzzle piece fit that just doesn’t. They think that if you have faith, you have to be perfect. In our weakness we are strong. Jesus didn’t die for perfect people, he died for the broken and we all broken.

The good chapters in my life give me the strength to withstand the bad that comes my way. The bad allows me to grow, to sharpen the gifts I am given, gives me the opportunity to lean into God and cry on His shoulder, to grow my relationship with Him, and it gives me experience that leads to wisdom. Wisdom is a gift to share.

Sharing lets you know you are not alone. Know that you are never alone. So come out of the cave with me and thank Him in public, praise Him in the sunshine and surround yourself with His people and dance in the showers of His blessings.

On a Roll with Charmin at Gallery Nuance

On By charminfothIn North Knoxville Business, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Check out this video on YouTube: it’s me, at Gallery Nuance face painting. Thank you Sherry Disney! 

An update to this article, sadly Sherry had to close her gallery in September so she could spend time with family. We miss having Sherry and her bubbly personality on the 100 block of Gay Street, and we hope she comes back soon.