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
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…
Clean haircut
Refreshing
Especially after
More than a week
Of laying in
A hospital bed
Pleasant drive
Past the lake
And back
Sweetheart
By his side
Drive-thru
Grilled
Chicken
Salad
Unsweet tea
Sweetly
Predictable
Quiet evening
At home
Thankful
To be there
Watching
Grand Ole Opry
On the T.V.
One of his
Favorites
Stayed awake
Past ten o’clock
Sweetly
Unusual
A perfect
Last day
This side
Of heaven
For a quiet
Man of faith
Who could not
Possibly know
The far reaches
Of his influence
I thought I heard his voice yesterday. Keep waiting for him to walk down the hallway or see him standing in the kitchen. Wishing he was sitting in his chair instead of me. I know he’s no longer here, but my heart won’t let me stop looking.
My dad worked hard his whole life. His rough hands offered proof. Health issues these past few years forced him to slow down. No more hammers, nails, lumber, or ladders. I know it was hard for him at times. But he rarely complained. Even when reminded to use his cane for balance, to wear his hearing aids, or asked where his glasses were.
There is so much to remember. So much to share. But today, I am thinking about the last day. It was a good one. ❤️
A black cloud
Moved across
The gray
Morning sky
Circling, swirling
Changing shape
Separating
Coming back
Together
Its fluctuations
Matching
My grief-
Moving closer
I could see
It was not
A cloud
But a flock
Of birds-
They landed
On the branches
Of barren trees
Perched up high
Unwavering
Their feathers
A brief replacement
For recently
Fallen leaves
Their stillness
Giving my heart
A moment to rest
Catch my breath
Though tears
Continued to flow
My sweet dad passed away early this morning. My heart is broken. I am forever grateful that he was my dad. He had a gentle strength about him. There is so much I want to remember and reflect over. But for now, this is all I can share.
I hadn’t given
Much thought
To the difference
Between Spring
Showers and
Autumn rains
Until today’s
Much needed
Precipitation
I could smell
Its approach
Last evening
In the cool air
Preparing for
A steady fall
All-day, gently
Drawing attention
To the hues
Of the season
Giving a final burst
Of color to leaves
Before they fall
A sweet reminiscence
From the very beginning
When Spring showers
Soaked the ground
Giving life to
The seed waiting
Ready to grow
Having no idea
What a beautiful
Life it would live
The past two years brought health challenges for my dad. Open-heart surgery and heart failure were encapsulated by complications from diabetes. I am grateful he is still with us. And he is thriving.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad!
He and my mom have coped well with the struggles of health combined with pandemic living. I know it has not been easy, and I am proud of them.
On this Father’s Day, I miss my father-in-law, Bob. I often wonder what he would think about the current state of the world. The political divide in our country? He would be disappointed. The challenges of living through a pandemic…not sure how he would have fared. Isolation from family and friends would have been difficult. He lived for his family and was quick to whip us into shape. 😉❤️
But, oh, what good things have happened. Grandchildren graduated from high school and college. Several are now married. And three new great-grandchildren have joined our family.
Anytime we are together as a family, I know he is smiling. He is smiling, and we are remembering.
I sat with
The heaviness
All-day
My heart wrapped
In a blanket of grief
The day wrapped
In weeping clouds
A peak of the sun
Broke my stillness
Only a glance
Out the window
Surely I should not soak it in
How could I?
Amid so much suffering
That sweet sunshine
Not to be ignored
Determined to draw me out
Shone a little brighter
Bravely displaying light
And shadow
Simultaneously
I couldn’t keep from smiling
Even as my heart
Continued to cry
I participated in a writing circle yesterday facilitated by Ali Grimshaw fashlightbatteries. Time writing and sharing with this group of women was just what my heart needed. ❤️
Today, my husband and I went on a three-mile hike. It was a bit more challenging than I care to admit. 😉But the time spent with him, walking through the forest with no outside distractions, was also much-needed. I am so glad he encouraged me to keep going.
I have a storage closet inside my music classroom. Shelves lining both walls hold musical instruments. There are stacks of chairs in one corner and drums in the other.
At various times in the year, certain sets come out.
There is a narrow walkway between the shelving.
More than once this school year, I’ve glanced in there with the following thought: would I be able to fit an entire class of students in here? I’m not sure. If I quickly moved some things out. But would there be enough time?
That is where I stop my spiraling thoughts. Any further, and they’d be unbearable.
Every day, I stand on the sidewalk outside my school. Along with colleagues and student volunteers, make sure kids get safely to their cars.
Several times during the year, I almost left my phone inside the building. But then one thought would invade-what if something happens? An emergency? And quickly, I’d put my phone in my back pocket.
I’m not the only one carrying the weight of such thoughts. But we rarely talk about them. Until another tragedy occurs and we realize it could have been our school, our students, or our friends.
I see the sweet faces of the Uvalde, TX victims in photos shared by loved ones. I see the desperation in the sobs of those left to mourn and question.
My heart breaks.
But my sadness quickly turns to anger as I listen to sound bites. As I hear political figures speak of rights instead of solutions, perpetrators instead of victims.
There are solutions. And please don’t tell me there are no laws or policy changes that would affect this epidemic of gun violence in our country. There are. And they are logical. Why do we refuse to take a stand in their favor? Well, that’s a matter of the heart.
Our descendants weep
As the blood
Of the innocent
Soaks the ground
Beneath the feet
Of misplaced allegiance
The sky wept
Thru the night
Quieting only
For moments
At a time
To take a quick
Breath of air
That offered
No relief
No lightening
To break
The vast darkness
No thunder
To break
The veil of grief
Only the tears
Of broken hearts
Forever flowing
It must have been raining all over the world.
Another
School day
Filled with
Laughter
Learning
Love
Shattered
By sounds
Gunshots
Impact
Screams
Cries for help
Violent deaths
Followed by
Silence-
Children
Teachers
Hiding, frightened
Training put
Into action
Training
That should never
Have been necessary
For actions
That should never
Have occurred
When will we decide enough is enough?
When will we choose love instead of hate?
When will we weep instead of arguing?
Mourn for
Innocent lives
Left lying
On the floor
Of the very place
They should have been safe
Today was our last day of school. Smiles, tears, good-byes. Ready for summer break. I drove home, exhausted. And then, I heard the news of another school shooting at an elementary school.
Listening to the reports was heartbreaking. And then there was a comment about training. The fact that students and teachers were hiding as they practiced. The same drills I have had to discuss or practice with students. It should not be this way. 💔
Piano Girl 