Sunday, April 12, 2015

Did You Know That Was There?

The words on this sign
are from
I Corinthians 13,
commonly called
"The Love Chapter."

You've probably seen it,
heard it,
and have it hanging in your bedroom.

So ya know
how you go
down the list
checkin' it twice...
(at least I do anyway)
sayin' "ouch"
"oh yeah, I'VE got this in the bag!"

You don't do that?

A few months ago
(it hangs where I can read it daily)
I was reading through this
my heart throb
my heart pulse
my heart attitude
my heart adjustment
my heart longing... be

To love God
and others
as I am shown
to love,

and there it was
plain as day
right at the bottom

I saw. ..

"What?", I thought.
Since when did love start to persevere?

Silly me!

How did I miss that?
After all these years!
I mean I KNOW it does persevere,

but seriously, did you know that
 that word
was the last word in this series of verses?

I haven't been able to stop thinking
of all the ways to put that word
into practice.

Life just kind of helps us
 put it into practice too!

Doesn't it?

How do you think love...

If I do not have love,
I am nothing.
So I will continue to

Saturday, April 11, 2015

There Is Strength In Pain

How are you standing with just one leg?
Have you just staggered upright from
yet another blow?

You're think.
You think no one sees you.
No one sees your pain.

You gaze around,
"How will I go on,
is it safe here,
will my needs be met?"

You have what you need to soar
beautiful one.
Reach down deep
and flap those strong wings
and soar.

Yes soar.
You are strong.
Stronger because of your pain.

Friday, April 10, 2015

Sunday, March 1, 2015

50 Shades of Grey?...that's not what I saw

I didn't read the 50 Shades trilogy,
nor watch the movie.

I just simply won't.


This is what I read...
what I saw...

My phone trilled it's "cell phonic" noise.

I heard his quiet,
matter of fact voice...

"She's gone," he said,
"but come over.
We still need you here."

So there I stood,
in the threshold
of her room,
their room,
sensing her presence,

And I had every right to be there,
but it all seemed to precious
and sacred...
and I didn't want to disturb
that aura,
that sense of Divine passage
as I reflected on our last time together,
our words,
my last look back,
her weak hand held up
in goodbye.
I read that.
I saw that,
as life just hurried on past,
brushing and bustling on past.

Her bed was crisply made.
The items necessary for her care
were already gone.

But her presence lingered,
it lingered
in notes from grandchildren
taped to the mirror,
and the Guidepost magazine
laying on the bedside table
and photos of ones she loved
placed around the room.
The "grand dog" must have sensed
the emotion,
the newness of change,
because he stood beside me,
his head hovering about my knee cap
and he licked my finger tips,
with his soft little tongue,
like the first gentle waves
of an in-coming tide.

As I stood there,
it felt as though I was
watching a sunset fade from view.
I pondered the moments
that had brought them to this place,
well and me too,
for that matter.

Across the years as her strength failed,
I was one of the ones blessed
to be called in to help.
And I watched
and learned
as she hosted family gatherings
and parties
and games with friends
and Easter egg hunts
and huge Thanksgiving dinners
all from the confines
of a motorized chair.

She was mighty,
and humorous,
and caring,
and interested in others...
so many others...
and she made you feel like
were her best friend.

Bff for life.

I saw her do more
from her motorized chair
than some people
do in many many years...
maybe even a life time.

She read this blog.
She was anxious for
a new story to post.
She would comment to me
and let me know
what she thought
about what I wrote.

The reason I make these
short centered phrases
in the format
of my blog...
is because she
told me she loved visiting here.
And I found out
this format
made it easier for her
to read,
to see on the screen.

On my screen
to the far right,
right now,
that is her
smiling face
leading the list
of the group
who like this blog.
I don't know
if your screen shows it
that way,
but I love it that mine does.

And he,
he is the one,
who told me to write,
to write somewhere...
besides this blog...
and I took it to heart
because he is wise.
And they loved my family,
from the time we met in 1999,
and treated us like their own.

But there were times,
no matter who was there to help her,
she as his bride for 62 years,
she only wanted him.
Just help
to lift her,
to turn her,
to say just the right things to her...
or know when to walk away..
and let her be,
let her sleep.

And he was strong,
stronger than strong,
and caring,
and diligent,
and methodical,
and humorous,

OH how they could laugh...

And I was blessed
for just a while
to read,
to see,
this dance,
this dance of life,
as the steady beat,
of life
and love
slowed to a waltz,
and then a slow waltz,
like the tines in a music box,
the last notes
of a true love song.

And on Valentine's day,
when others were thronging
to see 50 Shades...

...while the near zero temps
blew snow in strong
sideways gusts...
I witnessed,
a dedicated husband
stand at the head of his wife...
and express his thanks
for her love and faithfulness,
and say,
"Goodbye for now,
because I will see you later. "

Yes absolutely,
that's what I saw on Valentine's day.
And I'm stronger.
I'm a better person,
because that is what I saw.

I read.
I saw.
I witnessed love
in sickness and health.

Mrs. Mary...forever in my heart.

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Wait, What? Paralyzed?

We used to sit on the porch
 and have "picnics" as impromptu
 as a summer thunderstorm. 
potato chips
just whatever we had
we rushed through the kitchen 
opening cabinet doors
 pulling drawers
scrambling for the 
"picnic food"
as though we were dodging the
first large drops of rain.
it was all
 plopped with a thunder clap
into the over sized basket,
spread on the quilt
on the floor
like dice in a fast game 
"something or the other"
It wasn't 4th of July
just an ordinary
regular day
Holidays weren't necessary,
no not at all.

Not much planning was involved.
The thought kind of dropped into
our head
like a spider sliding down
on a single line of web
from the ceiling,
then the picnic thought touched our brain
it was assembled quickly
and eaten quickly
as though if not 
scarfed down in haste,
the moment would pass...
But the memories,
 the memories linger.

stir longing.
longing for home
longing for the way things used to be
longing for Spring
longing for children
longing for love
longing for the past 
longing for food
longing for sleep
longing for peace
longing for hope
longing for things just out of reach.

Longings can
hold you back
take your breath away
render you as immobile as
 Christopher Reeve
after his horse riding accident,
set in stone,
a pillar of salt...
just like Lot's wife
who dared to look back,

Yes, longing can truly do that.

longing can
hinder you 
cause you to stumble
to fall,
Move forward
reach out
find someone to help
to hug
to speak words of comfort 
or life.

You never know who may be hanging...
on longings...
hanging on longings
like it is their last thread, 
a very fine and delicate thread
 stretching to you 
tugging for hope.

You just never really know,
but your lowest of lows,
your deepest and darkest sorrow,
could possibly be the very door
that opens to the fulfillment of your destiny.

Are you paralyzed?
Are you a pillar of stone,
a statue of salt?
I refuse to be.

I admit it.
I am truly filled with longing.

My longings are different 
than your longings
most likely,
but they won't define me.
And they don't need to define you
I refuse to let them paralyze me,
to hold me back.
I purpose for my longings 
reveal the door of my next step
that leads to fulfilling my destiny.

What are your longings.
Is something paralyzing you?
Defining you? 

Sunday, December 14, 2014

The Size and Shape of Having Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Have you sung it?
Or heard it?
You know
the Christmas song
that tells you
all about letting your heart be light
and letting the yuletide glow
and telling you from now on
your troubles will be
as in olden days,
happy golden days?
It is all so
"Norman Rockwellish"
"Thomas Kincaidish"
and our hearts long for
and bright
and joy
and perfect holiday meals
and parties
and family gatherings
and kissing under the mistletoe
and romantic sleigh rides.
When in reality,
there are bills to pay
and relationships to mend
and doctor visits
and anxiety
and fear
and pain
and grief
and loneliness
in the midst of a crowd
and tears
amidst laughter
and false smiles.

This morning
as the choir sang
I saw her
(I leaned over and told Philip,
"I see Melody singing this.")

in my mind
and in my heart,
there she stood
beautiful red hair
purposeful countenance...
and I felt memories
pool in the corners of my eyes
slip from underneath my eyelids
and slide down my cheeks
and drip from my face.
I could hear her voice
and in another scene,
in my mind,
I saw her family standing
on the bridge
that exited the stage,
a prop...
there they stood singing.
And my heart broke
as I heard her voice
singing of
"The Spirit of Christmas."
Though, I did feel peaceful
as I contemplated her reality
of knowing true Christmas.
we ate lunch
and then I sat down
at the piano to play
some Christmas songs.
As my fingers
danced through the notes of
"Have A Holly Jolly Christmas",
I heard the sounds
of 35 or 40 pairs of feet
as we shuffled across
the highly polished gym floor
Mountainburg High School gymnasium.
We attempted to quietly
assemble ourselves
on the risers
while Bren Marshell,
the high school choir pianist,
played the introduction to
"Have A Holly Jolly Christmas."
I really did,
in my mind,
I heard the distinct bass notes
just as he played them
and I heard our shuffling,
like we were shuffling
all those years ago,
as in olden days,
happy golden days.
And I wonder why?
Why do I remember
these random things?
And see them?
Why today?
And I think of those
whom I love
and care about...
And there are many
longings unfulfilled
and needs seemingly unmet
and relationships unmended
and grief borne
and sorrows uneased
and peace...
well...peace is surely...
out there somewhere...
and trust is wavering
and faith is ebbing away,


Reality isn't found in
the Norman Rockwell
picture perfect traditions
the Thomas Kincaid
lights all aglow
beaming out,
there's no place like home.

No, unfortunately,
for many
that just isn't reality!

But the good news is...
for the dysfunction
the broken,

for all of us
any size
any shape...


the size...
a tiny baby
the shape...
a manger,


Tiny size
Manger shaped...

Wonderful Counselor
Prince of Peace
Almighty God
Everlasting Father
Prince of Peace
Strong Tower
Miraculous Mind Blower
Awesome Game Changer
My Best Friend

And that,
"The size and shape
having  yourself a merry little Christmas!"

Monday, December 1, 2014

It Only Takes A Little

The room was shrouded in darkness.

I stumbled,

trying to find

 my way to the light switch 

on the wall across the room.

Pulling my cell phone from my pocket

I searched for the flashlight app 

on my phone screen.

Upon hearing the "squeee"...

from the flashlight turning on, 

the room flooded with light

and I could see!!

It never ceases to amaze me 

how light penetrates darkness.

With just a tiny light 

darkness is pushed away.

It's the same way with vinegar in water.

You see~
a little makes a big difference.

Think about:

Heat in the chill.

A smile toward the sad.

A hug to the lonely.

A forgiving word.

A prayer for the despondent.

Just a little.

Makes a difference.

We don't always know the extent or the impact.

In my Christian tradition, as I celebrate Christmas, 

we have entered the season we call 

1.  a
 coming into place, view, or being; arrival:
the advent of the holiday season
2.  the coming of Christ into the world.3.  the period beginning four Sundays before Christmas, 
observed in commemoration of the coming of Christ into the world.
During this season of joy,
 of Advent,
 I ponder:

One tiny Child,a world changer,  
simply by being...being willing.

Am I a world changer?
Do I make a difference?
Am I willing?
Does my light shine?
Does it dispel darkness?

vinegar in water,
heat in the chill,
a smile toward the sad,
a hug to the lonely,
a forgiving word,
a prayer for the despondent

Just a little.
Makes a difference.