Where do I start?
Is start the right word?
Perhaps, a better choice
Would be continuing…
The next step
The next word
May come
A bit easier
Not that easier
Is the goal
No, my goal
Should be
Living, loving
Remembering
All of which
Miraculously
Occur in one
Solitary second
A single step
Where the body
Carries the soul
As the heart
Continues to drum
Simply Sunday
Safekeeping
There are
Those days
I wish time
Could freeze
Temporarily
Of course
Just long
Enough
For my heart
To capture
The images
I never want
To forget-
Just long
Enough to
File them away
For safekeeping
So upon recall
They may help
Thaw any
Heartache-
There are
Those days
I wish time
Could freeze
Word List
I started the day with a two-minute word list writing exercise. Set the timer, start writing, and see where it goes. My list, not surprisingly, began with sadness and tears. But it ended with hope and future.
I haven’t used this exercise in a while. I’m glad I chose it today. Grateful for where it led.
My dad was proud of his grandkids and loved them very much. You can see it in the pictures. And they know it in their hearts.
He was so excited about becoming a great-grandpa. Even though he had not met this sweet new baby, he already loved her.
I know her mom and dad will tell her stories about all her great-grandparents someday. All the while, writing new stories to be shared in the future.
I can’t wait to meet our granddaughter…💗
Simply Sunday
On the Horizon
Joy filling
The vastness
Of desert skies
Sadness
Sinking
To the depths
Of ocean floors
Strength
Standing
Gracefully
On the horizon
As the sun
Continues
To rise and set
This Sunday, I am thinking about my sweet mom. She is strong and determined to keep going. And I am so very proud of her. ❤
Noticing
Deep orange
Rising into
The pale
As the sun
Falls below
The Horizon
Baby blue
Fading into
Dark dusk
As the light
Of another day
Falls asleep
An image ahead
An image behind
Depending
On the day
On the hour
Or my direction
Simply
Stunning
Anticipated
Every now
And then
Unnoticed
What Do I Expect?
When talking
To my mom
On the phone-
To hear my dad
In the background
How’s my little girl?
When visiting
The house
Where I grew up-
To see him walking
Down the hall or
Standing in the kitchen
When far away
In my own home
Living my daily life-
To picture them
In my mind’s eye
By each other’s side
Each represents a truth
I have witnessed
Year after year
But sometimes
Life requires a change
Of expectations
Death is no exception.
Tho its shifts remain
Partially hidden
Until their time
Otherwise, we
Might not love
Quite so fiercely
Simply Sunday
Holding Hope
Waiting for
Buds to appear
And begin
Repainting
The landscape
With the newness
Felt in all
Shades of green
Taking care not
To overlook
Today's grays
Or forget
The once bright
Colors
Now faded
Their purpose
Fulfilled in
The graceful
Holding of hope
For tomorrow’s
Blooming
Gravity
Do you ever
Wish
You could
Spin round
And around
So fast in every
Direction
Simultaneously
Experiencing
The full sense of
Earth’s shape
As it meets
The atmosphere-
Without getting dizzy, of course
Or passing out-
For one single
Simple second
I sensed the
Enormity
Of it all
Then just as
Quickly
The feeling
Disappeared
Leaving me with
A silly smile over
Having time to
Do the dishes
Brushstrokes
Skillfully painted
Across the sky
Filling time
And space
One after another
Some clearly
Defined
Like the bright
Blue of a happy
Childhood day
Others, fuzzy
Around the edges
Like the moody purple
Of teenage angst
With every color
And shade
In between
Defined or blurred
Each opens a door
To recollections
Of the past
Or dreams
For the future
Joy and sorrow
Love and loss
Life and death
Each painting
Their own part
In the big picture
Transformations
I’ve never given deep thought to the life cycle of a butterfly. Besides children’s books and craft projects, that is. A tiny egg, a growing caterpillar, and a beautiful butterfly. It sounds simple, especially when mapped out with cotton balls, popsicle sticks, and coffee filters.
But none of those descriptions mention the chrysalis or what happens inside. The transformation is anything but simple. It is hard and sometimes painful. Near-perfect conditions are required for the butterfly to be released.
This week, saying goodbye to my dad, I was reminded of the shell left behind. It held so much life. Protected the spirit and soul of its occupant. And when the time came, allowed its release.
Death is part of life. I know that. And my dad lived his to the fullest, good times and bad. Health conditions over the past few years caused him to slow down. Challenging for someone who spent their life building things.
Instead of swinging a hammer, he would cook dinner for kids at church. Instead of traveling on mission trips, he would encourage friends thru phone calls. He did not complain. And most of all, he enjoyed his life with my mom. Picnics by the lake, coffee, cookies in the evenings, doctor appointments…life.
His sweet soul is no longer with us. It has been released. My faith tells me he is with God. And though that brings comfort, I selfishly wish he was still with us. The missing is hard. I suppose it is a part of my transformation…
Piano Girl 