Hold Hands…Follow Me

Walking through an airport can be a tad overwhelming. Where is my next gate? The restroom? Starbucks? Ok, so maybe not Starbucks. But the level of activity and the sheer number of other people…can feel a bit frantic.

Today while walking through Chicago O’Hare airport, I heard the sweetest phrase.

Hold hands and follow me.

When I glanced across the walkway, I saw a mom standing with a baby on her hip and two other littles standing close by. The words I heard were her message to the kids. They listened, grabbed each other’s hands, and followed her.

What a precious picture. Yes, mom looked travel-worn. Her responsibilities were many. I don’t know where they were headed, but they were going together.

This scene caused me to question. Is that how God talks to me? Does he say, Look! Here are your family and friends. Just grab a hand and follow me.

Or perhaps, if unable to reach out, pick me up. Carries me like the baby on the mom’s hip. Leaving the hand-holding and following part to family and friends. Either way, I am never alone.

Side note: I really was traveling today. 😊 Spending a few days in beautiful Vermont. More to come…

Foothills

One glance
Then a second
Wrinkled brow
Curious smile
Where do the mountains end?
Where do the clouds begin?

A closer look
Would perhaps
Provide answers
If answers are
What I seek-
On third glance
I choose to simply wonder
At how this
Humble horizon
Takes over my thoughts
Leaves me dreaming
Of sitting
At the foothills
Longingly
Looking up
Toward the highest peak
Where questions cease
And peace overcomes
With the passing of a gentle mountain breeze

Monday Progression

Dark clouds
Of gray
Hover over
Morning drive
Yielding sleepy
Eyes and yawns
Slowing
Reactions

Sweet flakes
Of coconut
Top buttery
Smooth frosting
Adding texture
And flavor
Surprising
Taste buds

Bright rays
Of sunshine
Guide
Drive home
Radiating joy
And warmth
Erasing
Cloud memories

Lovely petals
Of white
Bloom above
Green leaves
Baring grace
And beauty
Lifting
Heavy hearts

Today, I am thankful for the sunshine. Oh, and the flowers blooming in the front yard. And coconut cake…😉

To Be Carried

Smiling
Both of you
Small arms
Wrapped tightly
Around strong
Shoulders
A long walk
From the shelter
Of home
Out into the world
A long walk
For one of you
Anyway
-Loving father
Lowering your son
Until both feet
Are planted firmly
On the ground
Son happily
Running ahead
No thought of
Looking back
Knowing
What it feels like
To be carried

This week’s morning duty involves greeting students as they enter the building. Some hop out of their cars and make the short walk to the door. Others walk or ride bikes from their neighborhood. Still, others ride a bus.

It is interesting to watch all the differing interactions. Parents and children, siblings, friends. Most days, there is a mix of smiles, tears, and yawns, both the kids and me. 😉

This morning, I couldn’t help but notice one scene. A dad was carrying his son toward the building, both smiling. So much love and security. A perfect picture! ❤️

Simply Sunday

More Than Enough

Tiny feet

Not typically

What I would

Notice about you

And yet, there

You were

Quickly crossing

The busy street

In front of me

I slowed a bit

Smiled as you

Made it to safety

I wonder why you didn’t fly?

After all, you do have wings

Yet, for a reason

Unknown to me

You chose

Not to use them

Perhaps the wind

Was too strong

The distance

Too short

No matter

Your resolve

Shone thru

With each tiny step

I suppose

Sometimes

Tiny steps

Are more

Than enough

Living and Dying

We only spoke on a few occasions. Short conversations, but a bit below the surface. You knew you were dying. Cancer was taking your body, but not your spirit. One day at a time, you’d smile. And your sweet husband would smile with you.

Your peaceful presence was drawing. And your dress was sassy, full of personality. I would like to have talked more. But your days were short, and interrupting family time didn’t seem appropriate.

There was one opportunity for an extended conversation. I discovered you both were retired teachers. Smiled listening to your stories. Gratefully accepted your encouragement as a teacher.

That evening was the last time we spoke. Sounds like you held on as long as you could.

You are no longer suffering. For that, I am thankful. But selfishly, I wish we’d had the chance to become friends.

We rarely know when
One conversation
Will be our last
And even if
We have an inkling
I expect our hearts
Won’t entertain until
We know for certain

Simply Sunday

I picture my mom
Gently folding the edge
Of an embroidered
Cloth napkin
A needle piercing
In even spaces
Crafting tiny holes
For a thread to weave
Over and under
Giving the fabric
A new strength
A renewed purpose

Hem me in
Fold in my
Rough edges
Sewing
A seam
Of hope
The stitches
May hurt
But they will heal
Giving my heart
A new strength
A renewed purpose

You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Psalm 139:5

Simply Sunday

Open My Eyes

Some roads we travel daily
Others rarely
The first serve their purpose
Transporting us from
Point A to point B
The second calls to us
Invites, at certain times in life
Carries us to pinnacles
Capable of renewing passions
Often dwindled by the daily-
Roads worth traveling
Views worth beholding
Even if it means
Closing my eyes
Around the steep curves
Trusting the one in control
Will let me know
When it is safe
To open my eyes and look around
Inviting me to fathom
How far I’ve come
And how small I am
In comparison
To the vastness
Of this world

For we walk by faith, not by sight. 2 Corinthians 5:7

Simply Sunday

With Hope

I stare into the dancing flames
Reds, yellows, oranges
Rising from the dry wood
Shifting on the ground

Fanning the playful flames
I warm my cold hands
Not too close-flames that warm
May also burn

Extinguishing the dying flames-
Water mixing with fire
I stare at the rising steam
The blackened wood

Leaving behind the cold
Leaving behind my worries
I walk with hope
Into the light of a new day

Renewal

I watch you
Intricately
Designed
Miniature
Works of art
No one like
The other
Dancing
Across the sky
Making your way
To the ground
To a tree branch
To the tip of my nose
I watch you
Eagerly wishing
Your numbers
Would grow
And blanket the earth
In hopeful renewal
Fall, little snowflakes, fall

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1