History forgotten is lost to generations thereafter

Words be few and days have been many from the last visit here.
It is that I have lost the passion in my blogging.
From plagiarism this voice of mine in absence pulls me away.
Where others have made income off of it without even the grace of simple acknowledgment. I, I must let go of it as I count it a gift to others. I just feel a struggle over the issue. Letting go of it over and over.
Great efforts taken to share the experience, strength and hope.
Bringing seeds and ideas of post to others. That the mutual shared hearts of the many so tied together.

My heart here was to share the whole of who I am freely.

Spirit, soul and body.

From this form of muscle bone and sinew I serve. By presenting tasks and that shared knowledge I found joy.
A way of giving back to those segments of society that effort to attain the experience at homemaking and the skill sets I have mastered. Not wanting to make this a place of funding or the luker. This by choice alone. Just free paying life forward. For in my days I have had VERY few mentors who would teach me. Those years teaching myself were efforts of great study and trial and error.
A philosophy of mine is that history repeats itself both positive and negative. That history forgotten is lost to the generations thereafter. So I in this blog hoped in part to conserve those skills of the home, the arts, parenting, economics, gardening, tending of all things living. Gleaning and gaining the knowledge of so many of you who also have the passion to learn and to educate.
In deed my being is worn of the last two months with all the illness, interventions for the kids and the day in day out efforts to run the estate. A blessed life yes, to whom much is given much is required.

Within the soul of this woman a writer lies waiting to open my mind at risk of rejection. Once my voice was much less fettered. Now it has grown weak and wherry. I visit and fill my soul with the minds of many who yet share voice. So many things that offer a kinship of sorts. Reflections gained through the gain that only experience, understanding, knowledge finally culminating in wisdom pure and shared with a heart filtered through kindness. This was my heart to find voice here in this my " life uncommon". Finding my place caring too much of religion or prejudice judgments that fog peace leaving strife in it's wake. Above all things strife is a repulsion to me. To find voice within this soul of mine hushed at the avoidance of strife. Hushed that perhaps those who row the still waters might avoid a splash if a rock the boat.
Indeed also here with the fullness of my mind given health issues with children, spouse and self. Appointment after appointment that sets me so behinds here at home.

It is my spirit that can only visit hear at times. It is welcome, yet singularly, without the whole of me. Mornings spent embracing the Manuel of my life I long to make a safe place here. Where those souls who so wounded by hypocrisy religion and rejection can come and gain kindness to their day. Not pulled away through false condemnations that some "Christian" blogs can bring often without intent. So many many wonderful blogs of those who believe are simply an affront to those who are hurting and driven away through life and false expectations of others.
Yet too the work I am doing with the EMDR that you can read about here is very taxing yet so very rewarding.

I long once again to be true faced in the whole of me here. Without fear, bold tenacious vivacious full of life once again. Alas I am yet hushed.