Trials and tribulations bring about the best in an individual because they challenge our strengths, determination and capabilities. We human beings see meaning life because we have a never-ending amount of challenges that we have to overcome. It is through these challenges in life that give us experience and knowledge. One example is teachers giving their students math sums and homework. These are challenges that help train the processing skills of students and strengthen their foundation in mathematics.

However, if people are unable to handle or overcome these trials and tribulations, it might cause emotional or psychological harm to them. One example is bullying in school. When victims are unable to voice out their feelings or simply do not know how to do so, it can bring about a great deal of fear and stress, affecting his or her ability to concnetrate and focus in class.

In conclusion, I agree that trials and tribulations may bring about the best in an individual, provided the people know how to handle them properly.

True friends are like dogs, they stand by you through timeless ages to make a difference in peoples lives by holding your hand through their darkest hour, deepest despair, trials and tribulations to make you a better person who would be remembered for not the negative past but for the scented and beautiful future. They may not be faithful to you but they certainly will use the knowledge they gain to guide you back to the light even if it means losing a friend and their own lives.
It is the law of life, you complement each other for their goodness to create a life that will make you adapt to the Universal Conformity that existed, exists and will exist for eternity. Nature provides in abundance to every Universal being and we are all part of this universal dance of life. 
 

(I recycle my pictures and words in a different way, no two thoughts are ever the same. Its how you use it that matters…)

By Anisha Achankunju (C) 14th April 2011

Chapter One

The coffee pot was on the stove, the smell of fresh brewed coffee wafting all through the house. The creaking of the rocking chair and grandma Holmstead on the front porch, she loved every morning, to watch the sunrise with her cup of coffee, from the front porch of the very house her husband had built with his own two hands. Every morning Grandmother, would sit and beckon the sun on, over the land with welcoming praise and joy, she beckoned the sun each and every morning, giving thanks and praise to every new day from her creaking rocking chair. The floorboards of the porch, hand honed, each and every one, they sang their little tune as she gently rocked to and fro back and forth. Everything in her world has something to say, a voice if you will. Her ear was incredible, as she heard ever word, nothing got past that woman. Her sense of being was as keen as a hawk, high above in the sky, with a bird’s eye view. She was aging, but sharp as a tack, sharper than a splinter.

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A man, her grandson, John, was waking to the smell of coffee, bacon, eggs and homemade biscuits in a dutch oven, the aroma filled the house and to the sound of the swishing and swooshing of laundry over the washboard. John had seven sisters, Bea, Betty, Bethel, Ethel, Elizabeth, Mary-Joe and Bobby-Sue, and all of whom could ride and rope with the best of them, since they grew up on a Texas ranch raising cattle, but too, they saw to the needs of the house and the family first. They started laundry early, before sun-up to make full use of the midday sun, for drying. It, is imperative to start the laundry early and was a time honored tradition in the Holmstead household. Not sure if you’ve ever been to Texas, but they have a saying, if you don’t like the weather, wait 15 minutes and it will change. You never knew when the rains might come, making the task of laundry, particularly the line drying more of a gamble than anything else. In the noonday sun, the clothes would dry very quickly, but one had to plan ahead to work around the rains and odd showers that would often arise in an instant due to the atmospheric influences with all the heat and humidity being so close to the gulf. While they had electricity, they rarely used it, rather they rarely needed it. See, grandma showed them the good old way and while they very much lived in the future, they still honored and even revered the age old traditions of their forefathers. The very time tested traditions, that were the means of their survival, that brought them through many generations up to today, mid 1900s. America, still a vast expanse and the west very much still untamed and wild and John had aimed to see every inch, he was a man with a vision. The old cattle trails and expansive landscapes of his father and grandfathers, they were cattlemen. Cattle was their life and their livelihood, the means by which they supported themselves, survived and provided for their family.

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The farmhouse, large but relatively unassuming. Really just a hodgepodge of additions added on as the girls married. Later after they discover oil on their land, they raise the old farmhouse and construct something a little more traditional. Though even after they discover the millions in riches from the oil beneath their land, they never really change, life goes on as it had before, with the exception of the really large and stately farmhouse they construct. All the salvageable material from the original house will be recycled and reused for the new house as to keep the spirit of the original house. But, all that happens later in the history of the Holmsteads. They had built the domicile quarters for the ranch hands just off to the west of the house, overlooking the stock yard and barn shelters. The ranch hands always ate breakfast with the family, something Grandma always insisted on, a family tradition handed down from generation to generation. The ranch hands were mostly Mexican and Tejanos along with some immigrants from various different countries.

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The Holmstead ranch is located in the middle of nowhere, commonly referred to as cattle country but many miles out from the small rural town. A one horse town in Texas where everyone knows everyone. The Holmsteads were popular folk in and around town and not just for their prized Black Angus Beef and long horn cattle but also because the family had been around those parts raising cattle, for a long time spanning five generations, so they were well known and well liked folk. John Earnest Holmstead, named after his great, great grandfather, he was an accomplished cattle man and farmer and observer of life, mother nature and all things that he encountered, who loved to put his observations to print. Fancied himself a bit of a writer, though nothing published and he had a real thirst for life.

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Early before sun-up, John was waking to the smell of coffee, bacon and eggs, as was the usual routine in the Holmstead house, before heading out to work on the ranch tending to the cattle. Grandma patiently waiting for the sun to rise, like it did every day of her 88 years of youth. They had been on that land since the late 1800s when the patriarch Papa, that’s what they called him, Holmstead immigrated from Abrutzi Southern Italy. Word has it when he emigrated here to the states, he didn’t speak a word of English, except, “I want to Holmstead” so much so that when he was fresh off the boat that’s all he said and he kept saying it. He was mocked for his English, rather lack thereof. His true ancestral name they could hardly pronounce “Dominitri Soldani De-Abrutzi” so they wrote Johny Holmstead on his papers and that is how the family got their name. Oh, it was all a big joke to them, those doing his paperwork but to Domintri Soldani Abrutzi now John Holmstead and the family, it, was everything to them, it, was their American dream and a source of pride. Then, young Domintri, was never the type to let anybody or anything stop him or slow him down, he never missed a beat it was impossible to throw him from his vision. Now, Johny DominitRI Soldani Abrutzi Holmstead had long since past, and was buried out back by the big sprawling oak that he had planted himself smack dab in the center of what is now the family plot for burial and remembrance, right alongside the other Holmsteads that had come and gone. The seeds he carried in his pocket from Italy, along with many other fruit trees and such.

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Breakfast was always big as lunch was frequently non existent due to the demands of the ranch, working out in the field made it hard to get lunch, let alone store and prepare the food. It was a rather large ranch, some good 30,000 plus green acres and gently rolling hills, so working meant frequently being too far from the house to make it practical to return for lunch and then back to work. Every morning after breakfast and putting the laundry on the line to dry, the family would visit the family plot, to give thanks to those that made their wonderful lives and family holdings possible, and Grandma Holmstead always put something out for them, be it fruit from their orchard of various fruit trees or just a simple something crafted by hand.

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It was cool that early in the morning but that would not last, the noonday heat out on the plains would surely come. John stammered out of bed, his wife Marianna from Venezuela of 8 years faithfully by his side, made ready his clothes as he washed his teeth and made himself ready for the new day and the family tradition of breakfast at the table all together. Breakfast came and went like it always did, a healthy helping of everything, stamina for the days work, that lay ahead. When breakfast was ready, Grandmother would ring the cattle bell on the front porch, mostly out of tradition and all the family and ranch hands would gather round the table to say a quick prayer and feed their bodies and souls. After breakfast a quick trip to the family plot, to give thanks to the elders, patriarchs and matriarchs that had come and gone before. That was a tradition they never deviated from so long as they were there on the ranch and had not spent the night in the prairie which they often did. Grandma would water the tree from the stream that gently rolled in from the east.

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It was spring so the cows were giving birth to the new baby calves of the season, which meant they had to be there, not just out of their deep and reverend respect for life, should they need aid, but also because that was their bread and butter and the main means by which they supported the family. The Spring season meant two things, birthing young calves and branding young calves. They had to brand all their livestock, because cattle rustling was quite prevalent and their ranch was so large, some calves might not see a human for quit sometime nor be seen again. The cattle roamed freely on their land and that meant having to travel great distances to tend to them. Vaccinations and inoculations were important, a sick cow could infect and decimate the herd, which in turn could cost them everything. So keeping them healthy was of utmost importance and a job they took very seriously, same goes for the branding for obvious reasons. Cattle rustlers were a dime a dozen in those parts and would roam the wide open territories, looking for easy targets. Beef was worth quite a bit and good breeding heffer stock or a bull could be worth even more. So the work was constant and seemingly never ended, they had a lot of cattle and even more acreage to cover in the process of tending to them. John always rode out first before the ranch hands and with his trusty dog Blue, to spot the newborn calves for their shots and branding. They also bred their own horses, a breed they liked to call Holmstang, wild mustangs, domesticated and cross bred based on the traits and characteristics they felt best suited their work needs, mainly for strength and stamina and the dogs too were also a big part of their life on the ranch, which they also bred. Blue and red healers, a most curious breed of dog. Smart as a whip, with an innate sense of work ethic and a determination unmatched by nearly any other breed. It made perfect sense, since One dog, could do the work of several cattle hands.

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Once a year they would ride up North to check out the potential stock of the wild mustangs, which they broke and bred for their work needs, never a shortage of work to be done on the ranch. They also took some time out for sport and fun, and always entered their private stock of hand selected Holmstang horses in the summer rodeo competitions. Usually they did quite well and often won their classes outright, roping, barrel racing etc. They had many a head of horses for the obvious reason that by the nature of their work they had to cover a lot of ground. That makes the task of herding cattle impossible to do for for so many hours straight on one horse, even the best of horses. The demands of their work were great and no single horse, could manage that many miles at a full out gallop for that many hours. So when they ventured far out in the plains, they would take several horses per rider, so as to avoid over working their prized stock, that enabled them to more efficiently do their work. They were just and God fearing folk, deeply rooted not just in their community but also the ethical and moral treatment of their animals, though granted the job was not easy and often times could be very dangerous. Which was all the more reason, to make sure to have more than just one horse per hand, given the inherent dangerous and rigors of their work. Gofer holes, a stone, a rut, or a thrown shoe, lameness or exhaustion could all end a horses day of work and potentially their life.

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The girls would all join in on the ranch work, after tending to the house, they loved to rope and ride, it was in their genes. Bobby-sue was last years champion in the steer roping division, a class dominated by men. She sure could swing a rope and with the same accuracy she handled a gun, she was a crack shot, a pro in the saddle, and could rope and ride with the best of them. Mary-Joe took the least to farm work, but was skilled in the field nonetheless. Bea, Betty and Ethel, were as good as any guy that worked cattle for a living, the were tougher than nails. Perhaps because they had something they had to prove, seeing as how not many women took to ranch work in those days. But they did, and they did it well, great actually. No, they didn’t have to rope and ride, seems they more so enjoyed it, the work, as they had plenty of help on the ranch. Those locals looking for work, the Holmstead ranch was always their first choice, ranch hands were more like family than hired help around there, Grandma Holmstead wouldn’t have it any other way, her husband a Tejano was just one of the guys, liked to work with them, smoke with them, he even drank with them, sitting around a fire when the work was done. He even had his own special white lightning, moonshine, he used to make out in the barn in his homemade still, he was a bit of an engineer an everything under the sun kind of guy. If it needed fixing or making he could do it, Alejandro was his name, the fairest of men you ever did see or want to meet, give you the shirt off his back if you needed it and would himself do without. Grandma Holmstead always said he was the fairest of men she had ever met to include her own kin, which is really saying something because she had the utmost respect for her own kinfolk. Alejandro was retired from wrangling cows now, resting under the mighty oak, gone but certainly not forgotten. All the girls were married except Mary-Joe. They had all married either Mexicans or Tejanos, those were mostly the people you encountered round those parts and Papa Holmstead didn’t let them roam or even go in to town alone. Not to stifle their freedom, they were certainly liberated women, rather so as to keep them safe from the drunkards and heathens that milled about, drunk, with lust in their eyes and evil wicked deeds in their hearts, men with no morals, values, standards, drive or direction. So the, the only men they ever really got to know, were the very cattle hands that worked on the ranch.

There were two primary challenges that came dangerously close to stopping me on the road to homeownership. A short while before the closing on my first and only dream home was to take place, an individual with no insurance and in a large SUV ran a red light and almost sent me on a cruise towards non-existence. My vehicle did not survive, but thankfully I did and after substantial medication, medical attention, and physical therapy I was still able to make the closing. I continue to go to physical therapy so that I may continue to improve and am thoroughly ecstatic by the fact that I am no longer well medicated. Shortly after the accident, and also just before the closing, the love of my life and spouse of ten years went away with a fellow colleague–never to come back. Getting through the trauma of the accident and the disheartening loss of a loved one at almost the same time was almost too much to bear. With the help of family and friends, I steadily continued to piece my new life together-a fragile minute at a time–and eventually made it to the closing.

That is how my dream of homeownership materialized and if this dream had been free of challenges I do not think I would be as happy and appreciative as I am now. The opportunity to start a new life, in a new dream home, may not have been possible without these challenges that presented themselves.