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…

A Perfect Day

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. ❤️

Simply Sunday

Grief

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.

A Gift of Music

The music store was one of my favorite places to visit as a little girl. I was so excited to browse the new piano sheet music and beg my mom for a new song. Are there any bad words? She would always ask if it was a pop song. No! I would reassure her.

I was recently gifted a stack of piano music. Thumbing through the pages took me right back to those childhood days. And each piece, familiar and unfamiliar, reminded me that music truly is a precious gift.

I recorded a couple of the songs. Enjoy! ❤️

Raindrops Keep Falling On My head

Lara’s Theme from Doctor Zhivago

Framing the Day

Looking out
Through
The glass
That frames
My morning drive
A great expanse
Of rolling
White clouds
Dotted
With patches
Of blue
Unfolds in
Front of me
An audible breath
As sunlight graces
My periphery
Providing
Welcomed
Warmth
Blended with
The morning breeze
An indication of what’s to come
Perhaps
A singular moment of awe and peace
Absolutely

Simply Sunday

Let Me Out

Plan in place
Appointment
Scheduled
Released
Set free
Headed
Home
Freedom
Sleep
In your
Own bed
Happy
Relieved
Thankful
One day
At a time

After more than a week in the hospital, my sweet dad was released this afternoon. They let me out! He called me from the car. Told me exactly what road they were on. Said they would be home after a quick stop at the pharmacy.

His case is complicated. So many factors. But today, we are grateful for a plan that allowed him to go home. I hope to visit very soon. ❤️

Chances Are

You have heard
Thought not
Often enough

That what you
Do every day
Matters
Teaching little minds
Touching little hearts
Guiding little souls
Influencing the next
Generation for
The better-
But today
I want to say
It is you who matters
Your mind
Your heart
Your soul
Whether shouted
From the rooftops
Or whispered
On the breeze
My hope is that
On this day
This truth
Covers your
Every fear
Every hope
And renews
Your heart

Yesterday was my last day at school. My heart is overflowing. So many sweet notes and hugs. There remains much to reflect on after teaching these many years. Time…

I wrote this as a goodbye and an encouragement for my school friends and colleagues. Maybe someone else needs to hear the same message. ❤️

Little Things

Tomorrow is my last day at school. My desk is covered with sweet notes and drawings. So many emotions…thoughts feel muddled before I even write them down. But I’m going to give it a try!

Yesterday, two fourth-grade boys brought me handmade Freddie and Eli puppets to take home.

This morning, a third-grade girl gave me a tiny handmade envelope. Open it! A miniature note was tucked inside. ❤️

Several friends in one class came prepared, each with carefully folded Kleenex. 😢

This afternoon, I noticed one of my first-grade students reaching for me and motioned her to come over. She gave me a hug. I told her I was going to miss her.

This student is so quiet. It occurred to me that I had never heard her speak. I would love to hear your sweet voice.

She looked up with her big brown eyes-I miss you. Talk about melting my heart. 🥰

It really is the little things.