"Me And Raymond" * Post # 1* Written By; Lisa Gobin

The first friend I ever had was my cousin Raymond.

He was seven years older than me and we were more like brother and sister instead of cousins.
His mother and my mother were sister's. They were living out of state when I was born but moved back to Arkansas not long after.
I was told that when they told Raymond that his Aunt Dorothy had another baby he asked if I were a boy or a girl? When told that I was a girl he said;" Go throw her in the lake!"lol....He wanted a boy cousin, and all through the years when he introduced me to someone he always said this is my "Girl Cousin".lol
I vaguely remember our first meeting. I know I was crawling and wouldn't leave Raymond alone. I remember hearing his mom tell him to set in the floor and play with me and be gentle. If they had only known how many times I would eventually cry out just to get him into trouble. I was down right ornery for a sweet little girl.
Raymond was at our house a lot while his mom worked, my mom watched us both. We played and and argued just like siblings.
Our mother's father {pawpaw} lived just across the street from us so me and Raymond would go over to pawpaw's house and play around him as he set in the old metal school bus seat he had underneath a huge Oak tree. We took turns setting in pawpaw's lap and talking to him. We made up stories and played cars, jacks, marbles, cowboys and indians too.
Then the day finally came in my own front yard that Raymond taught me to climb a tree. from that day on we were usually both perched up in that tree talking and I would set there and sing.
Once we had some cousins come to visit from California. Two little boys that were in between my and Raymond's age. They were down right mean. They started making fun of us calling us Hillbilly"s  - they said we were barefoot and stupid!
Now we were Hillbilly"s and we were barefoot by choice...but we weren't stupid!
This was the first time that me and Raymond was forced to really bond on the same side, for the same reason. Taking up for each other in a way that would grow so strong in years to come.
To make matter's worse, our little cousins had them a B-B Gun... and that did it! Me and Raymond had us a private conversation.... we decided those boys were mean and we weren't gonna play with them "family or not". That's when it happened. They started shooting the pretty birds in mine and Raymond's climbing tree. They shot a pretty red robin and it made me cry.
Raymond had already hit that growth spurt some boys get before puberty. He wasn't a small boy. And he wasn't really over weight. He was just going to be a big strong tall man someday.
When Raymond seen that they had killed that red robin and made me cry he suddenly got a lot bigger than I had ever remembered him being. He suddenly over shadowed both of those boys and took their gun right out of their hands. They took off screaming to the house where their mother was, and Raymond was right behind them all the way. I was still standing there holding that dead red robin in my hand, crying and praying for God to make it come alive again. It was only a minute and all three boys were coming back from the house...no gun in sight, and Raymond behind them like he was herding cattle. one of the boys was carrying a shoe box. Both boys apologized to me and I made them ask God to forgive them for killing one of His pretty birds for no reason. They did. We put the bird in the box, they dug a hole and we all stood around and said a few words like the grown ups do at funerals on TV. Then we put the top on the box and buried the pretty red robin in the ground. Then the boy's mom came out and they all left...Me and Raymond climbed up in our tree and the only thing I remember us saying to each other was that we were so glad those mean cousins were gone. We just set in our tree for a long time not really talking, but we knew at that point we would always stick together through thick and thin no matter what.   * 1st post of continuing memories of "Me And Raymond" - Check back later for more....

Writing Used To Keep Me Sane

From as far back as I can remember I was always making up songs and when I learned to write I started trying to take it farther. I enjoyed creating stories.
We  hardly had enough money to eat each month by the time I was 12.
 Momma and daddy divorced when I was nine - so, momma and me lived off 250.00 a month, and that was for everything.
Somehow momma always found enough money to buy me a Country Music Magazine the first of each month when she went to town to pay the bills. I loved it. Didn't really expect it knowing how little we had.
This magazine had all the new hit country songs in it, all the words so people could learn to sing them.
I studied those songs more than I did my homework from school.
I studied each one and how the writers had formed the songs together, how they used different ways of rhyming every other verse or no verse at all. I looked at the names of the people who wrote them and got to know the styles of most of the main stream writers of the decade.
Between that, my brother's help and teaching - as well as a wonderful literature class taught by Mrs. Anderson at school. I was writing some pretty good songs by the time I turned 16.
I do remember being full of anger as a child. Because of the fear I had to deal with in our home. I remember my momma making supper and setting it in front of me and for no reason at all a burst of anger would come through me like wild fire and I would throw a real fit at the table. I would take the food that was in my plate and with my tiny hands I would squish it in anger. I remember not feeling right. Not normal, like my brain was exploding with rage and it was shooting out of my body from all over.
After many different ways of trying to discipline me - momma started telling me to go and sing a song, or go write a song. She had started teaching me to play guitar when I was four years old and I could play by ear by the time I was five, and those three chords could do a lot of work for a five year old.
It would calm me.
Playing and singing would expel the fear and anger that was pent up inside of me.
Then when I could read and write she would encourage me to start writing as soon as she would see I was getting nervous acting .
This type of therapy helped me with the onset of violent rages. It didn't heal me of the mental abuse I endured.  But it may have saved my life - or someone else while growing into puberty.
I enjoyed pouring out my heart and feelings on paper. The plus that became almost expected by me was that when I wrote a song the music would just be there. I didn't have to work at it for a long time and my best work was writen in only a few minutes. I believe God gave me that talent not only for Him - but for myself because of my need to let out my feelings.
Believe it or not - I was so terribly shy as a child. Not until I came into my teen years and started singing in public with my brother did I start becoming more vocal and enjoying life to some degree.
Well, I kept it up through my twenties and thirties. But I got so messed up my song writing suffered and the content became less that desirable at times.
Then I came to Jesus and my life changed....but I just couldn't seem to write a good Christian song, and everyone told me that the songs I once wrote..even the pure clean country ones had to stop. I was told that I couldn't live a Godly life and be a good example of how a christian should be if I ever wrote or sang country music ever again.
That old me was dead and now I'm new. I must have new thoughts. A renewed mind...
O.K. I have tried that for over a decade now and not once inside my heart have I felt it was right for me to stop writing the songs that used to flow out of me in no time with words that actually touched peoples hearts
Don't get me wrong by what I just said. YES, I do have a renewed mind and heart. That person who I used to be is dead and I have been resurrected in Christ. I wouldn't go back if I could.
What I am saying is - God gave me the ability to write songs other than gospel or christian - and I have to admit I haven't been able to write a decent song in ages. decent in the way of it being a song that is good and reaches out and touches you where you live or have lived at sometime.
I have also realized that I have closed myself off from that outlet of therapy which I really need.
I have been thinking I was loosing it now for several years. But I couldn't tell anyone what was wrong with me because I couldn't figure it out.
This evening while alone I was at my wits end and set down with pen and paper. I have been down right mean to live with for sometime. I realized these last few days that I have even come to the point of questioning my faith... I had to go to God again, in a different way.
In total silence I set down and started writing. I was writing to God and I was writing to my husband also.
My feelings flowed, so did my tears. Many things came out in my writing that not even I knew was there.
Fear of disappointing my husband because he has such a fear that I will be acting outside of Gods will for me and His word, I was afraid if I heard one more sermon from my dear faithful husband that I would end up doing something outside of Gods word. I honestly feel the love of my Father, and only He knows His will for me or the talent He gave me. I love singing for My Father and letting Him use me. But lately I had even lost the feelings of purpose to do that. Yes, satan tries to pull me down every chance he gets. He does that with everyone. That is why we all have to be on guard at all times anf prayed up in Gods word.
Even though the writing I did this evening will never be heard by anyone except God and my husband...it sure helped cleanse my soul. Hank Williams did'nt live an example life as far as Gods word goes....but some of the mournful songs that he sang from the depths of his soul was cleansing.....I guess we all have our own ways to release the junk that gets stored up inside....mine is writing what ever genre of song that cries  to come out.
I thank God for giving me life, and for giving His life for me through His Son Jesus Christ.
Don't worry.... I won't color outside the lines...I just need to color ~ 
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