Have you purchased Volumes 1 and 2 from my Seek Him book series?

Have you purchased the workbooks that serve as their companions? Or do you think the workbooks are just filler or exhaustive repetition of information, like so many workbooks?

Have you started reading the books? Or do you keep saying, “When the time is right?” Or “When I have the time”?

If you haven’t purchased, used, and tested yourself with these books—now is the time, because every day you are tested, tempted, and attacked. You’re going up against an enemy that has been studying and preparing for you for lifetimes. How long have you been studying and preparing for your enemy?

If you are a follower of my Breaking Bread With Natasha blog, then these are the books many of you were asking me for years to write and have published. I’ve supplied the demand. I’m coming with more. Are you ready? Or did you ask and think I would not deliver? Ah, you should know me better. 🙃

Seek Him, Volume 3 and its companion workbook will be rolling out later this Fall. It’s not my last book, but it’s the last one of this series. Whether you start this year or wait until the struggle forces you to, it’s better to be prepared and equipped, than scrambling for tools and resources. Remember what we gather from studying the Bible—we’re to be content in our circumstances, relying upon faith and hope to persevere. But we aren’t to be complacent or lazy, for that would make us complicit in our own demise.

How the Seek Him Series Works

Volume 1 covers months one through four. It helps to see where you are spiritually and it tests your perceived limits. There will be moments of discomfort. It shouldn’t be a cakewalk. This is where you start to see the boundaries you have created and, or, accepted.

Volume 2 covers the next four months, which should push you past your comfort zone, and encourage you to ask more questions, seek more answers, and break down the barriers of the status quo. You should be challenging where and how you get information, and if and how you use it. You should be peeling back the layers of yourself and getting past the facade you have created out of insecurity, fear, and a need to belong. This is a redefining stage.

Volume 3 covers the remaining four months of a 12-month journey. Not your final journey, just this particular journey. This stage should meet you at a point where you’re truly seeing yourself and how you view your relationship with God, His creations, and this chaotic world, differently. In Volume 3 you are training at a more intense level, no longer regurgitating the same ole same ole you learned in the past, growing up, etc. You’re instead conditioning yourself with a different appreciation for why you’re on this multi-pronged journey, and who you are throughout the process.

It’s about de-programming.

It’s about independent thought.

Less of “Well pastor said…” or “Father so-and-so said…” and more “From my research I found”or “Through prayer what was revealed is…” It’s about going to the Source and not settling for the remnants left by the offspring and byproducts. It’s helping you to discern the religious charlatans and pimps, and their messaging and tactics used, to prey upon you. It’s to discern well-intentioned people who fell to temptation and sadly sacrifice you to maintain what they think they gained from fame and fortune.

Jesus is quoted as saying that we are the temples, we no longer have to go to temples. There’s no more need for the pomp and circumstance, because we carry within us all that we used to pray for. He said that we don’t need an intermediary to speak on our behalf to God—we’re to petition and pray directly to Him. Yet look at how we live and worship in this modern era, more than 2,000 years later. The Bible can be used as a weapon to enslave, a tool to bury people under a mountain of misinformation, or it can be used to redeem, free, and restore people.

“I Like The Title of Volume 2, Can’t I Just Start There?”

You have to read the books in order, because that’s how they are written, with corresponding days picking up where the last book leaves off. Volume 1 starts at Day 1 and Volume 2 starts at Day 125, and so on. The books piggyback off of each other. They also point you forwards and backwards, in a layering effect. Each volume and companion workbook become increasingly more challenging than the one before. They are designed to test you, challenge you, encourage you to go beyond your comfort zone, and never return.

If you’re sick and tired of being sick and tired, pick up and read Volume 1 and Workbook 1. Then follow the path through the remaining books. I can’t guarantee enlightenment. But I know one thing, at the end of Volume 3 you won’t be where you were at the start of Volume 1!

Visit online retailers, your local bookstore, or Bookshop.org and pick up your copies. Join me on this Seek Him journey!

Love always,

Natasha

Copyright 2021. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.

DOMELifePublishing.com

In stores now.

Seek Him, Volume 2: Going Beyond Your Spiritual Comfort Zone

And its companion…

Seek Him: Workbook 2

By yours truly!!

If your local book stores don’t have them, tell them to order them!

DOMELifePublishing.com

Copyright 2021. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.

Reflecting over the days and years, looking to the research on abuse, the history of slavery and captor-captive relationships, and the enduring and devastating trauma. I want to share my thoughts…

I believe that trauma can cause some people to celebrate when their abuser hands them trinkets and tokens of “reconciliation”. They don’t realize that these “gifts” are merely distractions and attempts to downplay and normalize the sustained abuse, while never admitting it and never ceasing.

The abuser uses these moments as part of their research and development efforts. They track the points along the way where you bend to their ways based only on their promises of a better life, freedom, etc. They note your highs and lows. They test your thresholds. They look to see at which points you showed strength and resolve, and the times when they thought they had almost broken you.

Can they make you grovel, beg, try to negotiate, compromise, sacrifice your dignity and humanness, rely upon them more than your own Creator?

A checklist.

The abused convince themselves that the abuser “Is trying” and “It’s a step towards progress”, “It’s better than before”, “I should be appreciative for these gifts”, and “I deserve these gifts after all that I’ve endured and continue to endure”. You’re conditioned to see these moments as a reprieve from savagery. Maybe even as a sign of better days to come.

But deep down your spirit and soul cry out, knowing that the abuser has not and will not stop. The abuser will only repeat this cycle as it breaks you down, round after round, until you finally begin to see yourself as the problem—until you believe the abuser is your savior, who you should be role modeling. The goal is for you to see yourself as inferior to the abuser. As powerless and dependent upon your abuser.

You begin to repeat what the abuser whispers to you: If only you were more pliable, forgiving, and accommodating. If only you would assimilate into the system the abuser has crafted with great wickedness and precision. If only you stopped resisting and protesting. If only you would give in and let your reality be created, managed, and ruled by your abuser.

“You’re not oppressed, that’s just your weak mind talking”. That is what your abuser says. “Your life is better than it’s ever been” so says your abuser. “If you were oppressed you wouldn’t have….” and “You’re an ingrate. Look at what I’ve given you all of these years. This is how you thank me!”

Those are the words of your abuser, your oppressor, your slave master.

We are hostages who keep clinging to the desperate hope that our captor will one day do right by us. Many of us have been convinced that our captor is our friend, who has given us privileges we could not gain without them. We have assimilated out of desperation for the pain to cease. Sadly, it doesn’t. So we blame other captives for causing the added pain through their delay in surrendering.

A lot of us don’t realize we’re tumbling through decades and centuries of generational Stockholm Syndrome.

~Natasha L. Foreman

IG/FB/Twitter: @natashalforeman

Copyright 2021. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved. NatashaForeman.com

What I’m about to share may ruffle some feathers. It may cause some people to become defensive or offensive. That happens when truth is revealed, shared, and analyzed. Just make sure you don’t come at me with daggers. You will only cut yourself. Don’t come at me with punches. You will only hit yourself. If you come to divide, only your mind will be divided. I’ve warned you.

Let’s talk about it…
Checkers, chess, or Connect 4?
Why our lives are even in play, as a game…but they are, so whatcha gonna do about it?

When you should know the propaganda machine will crank out more vitriol than you can counter, how do you stay ahead so you can overcome?

Leaving out the adverb “TOO” left deniers of truth to say:

1) “ALL lives matter”

2) “BLUE lives matter” (although “Blue” isn’t a demographic).

3) “Well if Black Lives Matter so much to you then why aren’t you protesting Black-on-Black crime?”

4) It’s racist to say BLM or Black Power, or to call out white privilege, or to acknowledge that wealthy white men dictate whose life matters

These counter-moves puts Black people and our allies in a constant defensive position, trying to reason and rationalize with an unreasoning mindset that loves to tell rational-lies.

We thought video footage of the horror we face would be enough, but now the counter-argument is, “Please provide context”

We thought having white sympathizers protesting beside us would cause a surrender to the truth. What we get in response is, “They’re ALL thugs, terrorists, unpatriotic, unAmerican, enemies of the State, libtards, anti-police”. We hear that our sympathizers are “just pandering to Black people in this ‘woke’ era”.

When you have Black people complaining that white insurrectionists were able to storm the US Capitol and be called “patriots exercising their rights” while Black people and their allies have been called everything but—what does this say? What does this show and prove?

When you see that there are forces trying desperately to take away your vote, your right to vote, your right to equal treatment under the law, your right to protect and defend your body, your family, and your property—yet when you cry out about this, you’re told that your truth, the truth, is not their truth—so it is dismissed and devalued.

When you exercise your 2nd Amendment Right, the NRA is mostly silent in your defense. When you have no weapon but the attacker does, the NRA says the attacker “had a right to defend themselves as they feared for their lives…” Whose life truly matters?

When you’re told to “stay in your place” and “be glad for what your people have been given and what your people have achieved” as though you’re children. As though you’re still property. Yes, still slaves. The difference is that now you have access to some luxuries and can live wherever you can afford. Your new plantation is whatever area your paycheck defines. It’s all smoke and mirrors folks.

This puts Black people and our allies in a constant defensive position, trying to overcome the counter-moves, trying to prove the genuine and earnest alignment for human dignity. This leaves other POC at a major disadvantage because the reality is, if Black Lives DON’T matter, then neither do Indigenous, Asian, Latin/Hispanic, or any other non-White life.

Are we playing checkers while the powers-that-be are playing chess? Or worse, are we playing Connect 4 while they’re playing chess?

How would things have been altered if we had said “Black Lives Matter TOO”?

It sucks when you feel like your life only matters in two instances:
1) anti-abortion debates
2) military recruitment/draft

Valuing Black lives doesn’t devalue White lives, Black power doesn’t weaken White power (well except in weakening the power to crush Black life and dreams), Black votes don’t disenfranchise White votes, Black rights don’t take away White rights, Black life doesn’t sacrifice White life, Black wealth doesn’t snatch away White wealth—nor does it stop the impoverished White person from gaining wealth.

When poor White people start to realize that even with the privilege their skin provides, they too are an economic and social minority—despised by wealthy whites more than POC are despised—and they choose to stand (without faltering) with BIPOC rather than fight against them, vote with and for BIPOC instead of against them, build with BIPOC instead of building walls to keep them out—then the tides can begin shifting towards empowerment, inclusion, and freedom for all people.

When they realize the power they possess to sling down the Goliath that keeps 99 percent of the nation groveling for scraps, then they can force the powerful hands that bind the disenfranchised. They then can stop counter-arguing every police attack on Black people with, “Statistics show that poor White people face as much police brutality as Black people”. The fact that you even researched and shared this only underlines why this human rights fight is also your fight, beside us, not across from us—with us not against us. For the same system that binds us is the same system that sneakily binds you. For there are more poor Whites than Blacks, statistically. There are more Whites on state assistance than Blacks. More White “welfare queens” than Black ones. And Blacks don’t have the power and privilege to make that possible. So who does?

Is the dilemma that poor Whites face is in accepting the fact that until Black Lives Matter TOO, their life won’t truly matter either, they will still be seen as trash, worthless except to raise hell and do the dirty work of the wealthy? Is it difficult to swallow the pill of multi-generational hate aimed at a people they were taught to believe they were better than simply because they wore a different color of skin—while blaming those same people for rising from the ashes, sometimes surpassing them? Your great great great great grandparents were lied to, and every generation leading to you were lied to. You have been lied to.

It has to be maddening when you can’t really explain the hate and you’re too afraid to place blame squarely where it belongs. You’re boxing with shadows. With smoke and mirrors. Face the truth. It will set you and all of us free!

Let that sink in.

Share your thoughts below. Don’t come at me sideways with vitriol, you will only find yourself kicking a can, alone…

Love always,

Natasha

BLM #BLM2 #BLMToo #checkersorchess #unify #unity #smokeandmirrors

Copyright 2021. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.

A lot of folks confuse Memorial Day and the weekend of celebration, with Veteran’s Day. Memorial Day is honoring the men and women who never made it home from deployment. Their lives were cut short due to war, battles, and conflict. Please remember this and reflect deeply over this holiday weekend. It’s more than backyard BBQ, it’s about the memories of those no longer here. #gonebutnotforgotten

~Natasha L. Foreman

Over the years I’ve shared some great messages from my childhood friend, Sean Brown, and today I want to share a message that someone really needs to hear. I know I did. I hope you truly listen with your heart. You may agree or disagree with Sean. He’s sharing his opinion and insights. Join in the conversation and explore what we can do better and together. We’re all dealing with trauma and going through phases of healing. We should do a better job at sharing the tools we use to cope with and overcome the rough times. Thank you Sean for sharing this!

Love,

Natasha

Today, as I was reflecting over a 10-year-old message I had written for my Breaking Bread blog, I started to look inward and examine how I’ve grown in some areas and still struggle in other areas. The post is on forgiveness and I can admit that I struggle with forgiving myself and others for various offenses. This is something I have to reconcile as it’s no one else’s responsibility to manage my thoughts, emotions, or actions.

My heart and what flows from it is my doing, no one else’s. My actions are my choosing. The words I speak are by my control, not the pulled strings of a puppet master. So if I deposit venom or bliss, it’s by my doing. I must take responsibility for the energy and feelings that I choose to deposit, withdraw, hold on to, or let go. Below is an image of a message that I shared on Instagram. Maybe it will spark a healthy conversation. Reach out and let me know your thoughts and opinions in the comments section below.

With Love, Natasha

Copyright 2021. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.

Hello world!

It’s been awhile. Yep, as life has been slamming and back-flipping me, I noticed that I haven’t made the time to reach out and tap out some words to share with all of you. Right now the ref has called a time out, so let me quickly draw you in to my mind, heart, and world.

If you don’t know, I wrote a book and workbook that was published in October 2020. Yep. “SEEK HIM, Volume 1: Testing Your Spiritual Comfort Zone” and “SEEK HIM: Workbook 1”. Volume 2 and Volume 3, along with their companion workbooks, are being released this year. I got full-nelsoned a few times the past two months so hence the delay with my final sign-off on Volume 2. But if you haven’t been reading Volume 1, then my delay isn’t impeding your progress, so we’re all good. LOL! Okay I digress…

Well, from time to time, I like to share excerpts from my books to engage with those of you who are reading them as well as those of you who haven’t made that investment to walk with me in this testing-your-spiritual-comfort-zone experience.

Today I decided to share excerpts from Day 75 with my Breaking Bread family. If you’re scratching your head in confusion right now, that means you don’t follow my spiritual blog, “Breaking Bread With Natasha” and that’s all good. I probably don’t follow your blog either, so be sure to introduce yourself, so we can check out each other’s blogs.

I shared more today on my blog than I intended. That’s what happens when I take off the filters and let things flow. The vulnerability kinda makes me feel like a toothache is spreading through my entire mouth. But I’m trying to learn to embrace the discomfort, as it’s part of the growth. I hurry and press “publish” before I have a chance to second-guess and let fear set in.

Now let’s be clear, transparency is not the same as oversharing personal stuff. Some things are supposed to be contained within your mind, home, or at the most your close inner circle. Some of y’all are sharing stuff that no other human needs to know. I mean, maybe your doctor but that’s about it. That ends up being a thirst trap for voyeurs and sadists.

So without further delay, because I’m sure I probably just insulted someone, and there’s a possibility that you’re interested in reading what I had to say about Day 75, my books, and why I get scared reading them, check out today’s message at:

https://breakingbreadwithnatasha.wordpress.com/2021/04/10/day-75-of-seek-him-volume-1/

I don’t mind you laughing here and there while reading my post. I cracked myself up!

To purchase my books visit my publisher’s website: DOMELifePublishing.com

Love ya!

Natasha

Copyright 2021. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.

Did you purchase my books “Seek Him, Volume 1” AND “Seek Him: Workbook 1”? 

If so, please share a photo of yourself with BOTH books, and tag me @natashalforeman and @domelifepublishing on IG, FB, or Twitter to be entered into a drawing to win a FREE copy of Volume 2 of the Seek Him book series, to be released VERY SOON!

Yes, you read that correctly. If you’ve been tracking with me, you should be well into your copy of Volume 1. Well, Volume 2 picks up where the first book leaves off. Volume 1 covers months 1 through 4, and Volume 2 covers months 5 through 8. That gives you 4 more months, and this next level gets deeper. It goes BEYOND your spiritual comfort zone. So share your pics and tag away, to be entered into the drawing.

The winner will be announced Monday, February 15th.

This has not been the month of tech for me, as I’ve had my share of headaches with the devices that make it possible for me to share my messages and engage with all of you on social media. Two weeks ago my cell phone experienced an internal crash and after days of trying to fix it I had to settle with getting another phone. I then spent several days waiting for the new phone to be delivered, and then there is the transition that we go through when having to re-add content to a new phone, and trying to remember passwords, etc.

It’s been an experience to say the least. I decided to go back to Apple iPhone, from Samsung, and since my Samsung crashed I can’t access content. So this feels more like it did years ago when we first started using smart phones and you had to add the content and download the apps for the very first time. The only difference is, I’m trying to add apps that I already had and remember passwords that keep slipping my mind. I can’t recall all of the names of my apps, because some of them rebranded. I just grew comfortable remembering their logos. Goodness gracious.

I’m still not back up 100% but I’m much farther along than two weeks ago. So please be patient with me over these next several days…heck, even the next few weeks. Thank you.

Love, Natasha

Copyright 2020. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.

Happy birthday Mom!

Today is bittersweet, because it is my amazing mother’s birthday, and her eldest grandson Bishop isn’t here to celebrate her extra special day.

But rather than focus on the gloom and loss, we’re going to focus on the light and blessings.

Our heavenly Father has blessed my mother, Gwendolyn, with some beautiful decades, years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds on this beautiful, big planet. We thank Him for this time and thank Him for each and every additional decade that He blesses her with.

He blessed her and continues to bless her with intelligence, knowledge, wisdom, beauty, humor, creativity, compassion, grace, and so much more. He blesses my mother with excellent health and wellness.

We thank Him now for continued excellence in all areas of her life. We thank Him now for uplifting her in areas where she needs support, correcting what needs mending and fixing, and reinforcing all that He sees necessary for reinforcement. We thank Him now for the abundance of spiritual, mental, physical, financial, and social blessings coming her way.

My mother is a servant leader and she desires to be better in all ways, so that she can glorify God, life her life as He envisions, support her family as needed, and do her part to help and uplift other people.

My mom loves her family. She is usually the first to try and coordinate family gatherings. She has been working hard to spruce up her childhood home, my grandparents house, to make it into a family hang out for holidays and other special occasions. Mom is the solution-finder, fixer, quicker picker upper. She loves planning and attending parties and special events. She’s loyal and when she has your back, she’s got your back!

My mom is a social butterfly and I’ve always teased that she could talk to a tree, she’s just that sociable. It’s no wonder she’s been blessed with opportunities, jobs, and careers working with and serving others.

Even her college degree that she busted her butt and earned several years ago, is in a field that is designed to help others. My mom is a giver, thanks to God’s guiding and molding hand. She could’ve chosen not to be, but I’ve known her my entire life, and that’s just not in her character. Mom’s heart is set on pouring into others. Mom sacrifices self for the benefit of others.

I want to be in the position where I can financially support my mother’s dreams. I thank God now for making these visions a reality so that my mother can serve without question of the financial how-to’s. With God blessing her, me, and my sister, I know that He will make a way.

I’m grateful and blessed to have my mother, mom, confidante, and best friend. My mom was my first friend. The first heart I heard beating. I was nourished by her in her womb. Every emotion she felt I also felt. My first impressions in and of life was thanks to my mother. She has never stopped loving, caring, uplifting, supporting, and blessing me, my sister, our family.

Today and every day I celebrate my mom and thank God for blessing me and this planet with her. She is an amazing mother, grandmother, daughter, sister, niece, aunt, and friend.

Mom, I know that today isn’t how you envisioned it last year, the first of this year, last month, or even last week. But I pray that as always, you look closely and see that silver lining, the blessings, and the beauty—and you celebrate it like you’re a big ole’ kid. Smile brightly, laugh hearty, and bust out dancing and singing whenever the Spirit moves you.

Today while at work, treat each person like it is their birthday, and rock this day and the days ahead, like you have the shiniest, sparkliest crown on your head. Because my beloved, you do!

Happy Birthday Mom!

Loving you forever and always,

Natasha

It is with deep sadness, sorrow, and gut-wrenching pain that I share today that yesterday, November 14, 2020, by beloved child, dog, friend, companion, and protector—Bishop Milo Bryant, transitioned from this life.

I struggle to type these words because his presence is so strong, in my heart, mind, spirit, and soul. His presence is so strong in my home, car, and throughout social media—as he has his own IG, FB, and Twitter accounts.

I walk past his bed, cool mat, blanket, water and food area, his toys, and I’m waiting to see him. My heart hurts. My head hurts. My entire body is in agony and I don’t know what else to do except pray for peace within.

I never thought that my initial plans to take him to Lake Lanier for a day out would instead lead to a change of plans the moment we got into my SUV. He was energetic earlier in the day but was lethargic when I returned home with his $19 FreshPet food loaf. I was excited about mixing it up with a sweet potato I cooked him Friday night. I said it had to be yummy if it cost $19. I couldn’t wait to see if Bishop enjoyed it. But Bishop was now lethargic and not interested in food or even his beloved treats.

I thought the drive, good weather, and time at the lake would change his energy. He was excited to go but his energy wasn’t as high as normal.

A family friend had invited us and was waiting in the car when I loaded up the essentials I would need for a day at the lake. Just as I grabbed Bishop’s toys from his cubby in the rear of my SUV, and tossed them in the backseat to entertain and comfort him, my friend told me Bishop’s gums were white. They had been a light pink hours before. Now we were both confused.

No trip to the lake. The only car ride was to the hospital. I jumped in my SUV, told my friend I would keep them posted, and I sped off. I have no clue what they said as I left. My only focus was Bishop.

After not reaching his vet, I called the ER and told them I’m heading their way. Bishop was in the backseat in his hammock, not his normal self. I held one of his paws as I drove. I contacted my sister and friend with updates, and texted our other family friend (and former assistant) to notify him and Bishop’s dad of the latest. I asked my sister to contact my mom to keep her informed.

My friend, who I left waiting outside our home, had pulled up three parking spaces away. There were several cars waiting for care of their beloved pets.

The staff brought me paperwork to complete and then the assistant came and escorted Bishop inside the building, while I followed COVID-19 protocols and waited in my car.

Never did I think this ER visit would be our last together.

I hadn’t contemplated anything as serious as the phone call I received not even 30 minutes later. As I cried on the phone with the doctor, I took detailed notes to share with loved ones who would have questions. I read my notes back to the doctor and she said she couldn’t believe the accuracy of my note-taking. Those kudos only had a light touch because I was being congratulated on my accuracy in a time of duress and horror.

Without sharing the awful diagnosis (and I have no intention in sharing it later, so please don’t ask), I will say that the prognosis shared gave my beloved Bishop Milo 3 to 6 more months of time with me, if (and only if) his surgery and aftercare had no hiccups. The best case scenario was 6 to 12 months, but factoring in his age and breed, the doctor was barely holding on to that level of optimism.

The steps required sounded like anxiety-ridden, stress-inducing, painful moments for my baby. He was already experiencing great anxiety and discomfort every time he returned from the vet and hospital these previous few weeks. It would take days for him to return to normal. I couldn’t fathom what hospitalization, surgery, rehab, and any other procedures would cause his beautiful mind to think and his heart to feel.

My baby is love, light, and high energy. When he’s not feeling good the whole world turns grey around us. Nothing and no one matters during that time except Bishop. My worry and tears would only worry him more. We both leaned on each other for comfort and support. So what would this proposed experience be like for him? For us?

When the doctor warned me of the potential complications during and after surgery, I swear the world stopped rotating for a few moments. I couldn’t comprehend my baby passing away on an operating table, in a recovery crate, on the way home, or any other number of scenarios that were presented. I couldn’t let him think I left him with strangers to experience such traumas.

My son needed to hear, see, feel, and be around his loved ones. My son needed to hear, feel, and know that he is loved, appreciated, and the best son ever. I didn’t want him to leave this level of existence not knowing that he did an amazing job loving on everyone he encountered.

He did an amazing job loving, supporting and protecting me. He did an amazing job caring for me when I was sick, throughout my current and past injuries, and throughout my health scares. When my body doesn’t want to cooperate, Bishop aligns his energy with me and he’s more gentle and patient, as he knows I sometimes struggle to physically interact with him like I normally do. He’s grown to be an awesome support dog, more than I imagined—as most of the things he’s learned to support me have been within the last one to two years.

He did an amazing job learning other new things these past two years, including free walking off leash in crowds, around cars, and while other dogs and cats were in close proximity. Bishop loved chasing cats.

They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but clearly they didn’t know Bishop Milo. My baby was still learning new things days before this tragedy.

What my baby needed now was to look into our eyes, and we look into his, and know that all would be different, but all would be well. He wouldn’t hurt and suffer anymore. He wouldn’t be subjected to poking and proding, needles and other things being stuck in him. He wouldn’t have to deal with doctors and nurses anymore. No more anxious runs, racing to his mommy trying to break free from the grasp of the attendant walking him out to me.

I sobbed knowing that this was the right decision but wishing I had a better one. I kept hoping for a miracle but one never came.

We were supposed to be at the lake, playing near and in the water, looking at bugs, insects and people. He was supposed to be rolling around in grass and playing catch. We were supposed to have a great Saturday and then plan our Sunday football menu. We were supposed to be planning our road trip for Thanksgiving, and prepping for Christmas.

We were supposed to be getting hyped up for his upcoming, November 25th birthday. My baby Bishop was turning 9 years old and I had already picked out his gift and cake. I even contemplated buying him an outfit to wear.

Now, instead, I was having to make the toughest decision I’ve had to make so far in my life.

I spoke with my friend and my sister, separately and then together. My sister made phone calls to update my mom and to have my ex-husband updated. I called the ER doctor and she walked outside to speak in person. I told her that I didn’t want my baby to hurt anymore, to be scared anymore, to be traumatized anymore, and I couldn’t selfishly intervene knowing that I risked causing all of those things and more to happen to the spirit, energy, light that I love as my very own child.

It wasn’t long after that the assistant guided me and my friend into a private room where Bishop anxiously and lethargically tried to get to us, and convince us to get him out of there. We joined my mom and sister on a video call, where we all grieved together.

I’m grateful to the staff for allowing me to stay with Bishop as long as I wanted. Well, as long as I wanted in that room. Because my heart and mind say he’s supposed to be here beside me right now, as I type these words, he’s supposed to be waiting for today’s adventure to unfold.

I sobbed all yesterday and woke up today crying. All I want is my baby, Bishop. As I drove home I could smell his scent in my car. When I put my key in the lock and opened my front door, I expected for him to be there, high-energy, welcoming me home and asking what I brought back for him. My home is filled with Bishop and all-things Bishop. His toys, bedding, blankets, and clothes. My SUV has two storage cubes filled with Bishop’s things.

Last night, I spent hours on his IG and Facebook, looking at videos and pictures of him over the years, and funny videos of dogs that our family and friends had posted that reminded us of Bishop. For as long as I can, I will keep his social media accounts active. I plan on creating some photo albums and video montages of Bishop.

I want my baby. I miss my baby. Our time together wasn’t long enough. Almost 9 years wasn’t enough. I had travel plans for us. I had plans to find him the perfect sibling or siblings to boss around, and play with. We were supposed to swim in ponds, lakes, and pools together. We still had countless hiking trips to go on, adventures to create.

All of that is gone. So now I hold on dearly to the memories, the pictures, videos, and tangible items that were and are Bishop’s.

I thank my sister for the beautiful message she posted on Facebook yesterday, honoring her nephew. I thank those of you who posted condolences, sent texts, and called. Right now I need some time to cope and go through these grieving and healing steps. Please understand my desire to be antisocial for awhile. For some of you, Bishop was just a dog. For those of you who had Bishop in your life, you know better. You know the loving soul and spirit that rested in that big ole furry body. You know that he was, is, and always will be my child.

I’m contemplating hosting a virtual memorial service for him, on his birthday. If I do, I hope you will attend and share your memories and prayers for Bishop. Unlike my book release party, there won’t be any registration, just show up and share in the love. I’m hurting y’all but I’m also grateful that my baby is at peace. I’m hurting but I only have pain because the love we share is so strong. I’m blessed to know this deepness and purity of love.

Bishop gave and taught me unconditional love. There is no greater gift. I will hold that love in my heart forever.

Love,

Natasha

Copyright 2020. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.

Hey everyone!

  1. Check out this quick video of me…

2. Then tune in at 6:30pm ET and listen to Episode 47 of the Don’t Call It Small…Business Podcast as we discuss “Supporting the Entrepreneur In Your Life”. Be sure to share with others.

You can also listen using the player below.

https://www.spreaker.com/user/11391552/ep-47-supporting-the-entrepreneur-in-you

3. Thank you!

Copyright 2020. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.