I used to find the idea of regularly visiting a cemetery puzzling. Not in a disrespectful way. My thought was-Well, I know they are not there.

Today, Mom sent me a photo of Dad’s newly installed headstone. I’m beginning to understand the pull.

As I looked at the design, zooming in on details, I saw the story. Names and dates that represent what was and what continues. Birth, marriage, death-pieces of a beautiful puzzle. A puzzle to which I also belong.

I hope to visit soon. 💙

Stories etched
In granite gray
And endings
Bordered by
And filled in
With love

And hope
A serene spot
Shaped for
The kind of
That leads
To living

Simply Sunday

The Firsts

I have felt
The joy in
The firsts-
The one being
Too young
To remember
Yet, later seeing
Thru the eyes
Of those who
Were present
Knowing their
Was built
In love-
Strange how
Those firsts
But change
After one is gone
A birthday
An anniversary
A holiday
Without them
The one being
Not here, and yet
Our tears
And smiles
Of that same
Still standing

This is our first Easter without Dad. Just me and Mom watching church online as my Uncle James preached from the church where he and my Aunt Martha serve in Massachusetts. It was quiet. The message was hopeful. And we are thankful. Happy Easter! 🕊


Blue morning clouds
Gently float across
Downward streaming
Sunbeams gracing
Dewey green grass-
I cannot tell if
The Sun’s rays
Are in front
Of the clouds
Or behind them
Or perhaps
Piercing right
Thru their center-
Not for purposes
Of Destruction
On the contrary
For giving guidance
Providing warmth
On their journey
Whether it means
Quickly dissipating
As they transform
Into raindrops
Quenching parched
Ground below
Or peacefully
Long enough
To provide shade
For someone in need

Drop of Grace

One footprint
Great or small
Shallow or deep
Creating a pause
Within each step
Each space
Left behind
Able to catch
From a cloud
Or teardrops
From a friend
Close behind
And within
This catching
Of rain and tears
Lives freedom
To release
A drop of grace
With every step
A drop of grace
To meet each
Cloud or friend
With this message-
I know you are there
I won’t leave you behind

The Daffodil and Me

Buried deep
In the earth
By fertile soil
A cycle of
And Warmth
From the unseen
Source above
The tiniest
Of stretches
Baby roots
Begin to reach
And seeking
In chorus
Ready to follow
An unknown path-
The hard work of
Seed to sprout
The patience of
Bud to flower
All while weathering
Wind, rain, and cold
Until the affection
Of the sun
Lifts her face
Toward the sky
Begging the question-
What comes next?

I am enjoying the daffodils this year. Their resistance to our unpredictable weather is amazing. They may droop a little due to an unexpected cold but stand right back up the next sunny day. They may shiver in the wind, but they don’t fall over. Hmmm…I think there’s a lesson in there somewhere. 😉

Simply Sunday

On the Horizon

Joy filling
The vastness
Of desert skies
To the depths
Of ocean floors
On the horizon
As the sun
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. ❤

Simply Sunday

Holding Hope

Waiting for
Buds to appear
And begin
The landscape
With the newness
Felt in all
Shades of green
Taking care not
To overlook
Today's grays
Or forget
The once bright
Now faded
Their purpose
Fulfilled in
The graceful
Holding of hope
For tomorrow’s


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…

Simply Sunday

Choosing Thankful

So many things I take for granted.
Today, I am embracing the simple.
Thankful that the sun is shining.
Thankful that the breeze is crisp.
Thankful for the ability to talk on the phone.
Hearing my dad, You will always be my little girl.
Hearing my mom, I am ok. We will trust God to take care of us.
Dad is in the hospital in Arkansas.
Mom is there with him.
I am at home in Oklahoma.
Such is this life. And that is ok.

Christmas Gifts

Another year
To celebrate
And cheer
And hope
A precious gift
Tiny baby born
Lying in a manger
Sleeping among
The animals
Listening to
The Lullaby
Of angels

When I consider Christmas past, some gifts stand out. The jewelry box from mom and dad that was also a music box! Dolls of the World from my Aunt Sharon. A voice print of my kids saying Mama from Gart. How my Granny Mahar always had a gift for each of her twenty-six grandchildren. ❤️

Great or small, each gift was given in love. And each giver holds a place in my heart.

I’ve been called sentimental more than once. There’s no denying it. But the older I get, the more my sentiments rest on people, not on things. Each memory is a gift held in the heart. Tied together by an unending ribbon of affection, six-inch curls in between. 😉

Silent Night, arranged by Phillip Everen Kelley Morris, piano

Christmas Time is Here by Vince Guaraldi Kelley Morris, piano

Merry Christmas!