A silver shopping cart
sits in the middle
of an empty
parking lot
They must have missed it
during the big clean-up
Someone’s every
single earthly
belonging lay
still inside
There was no someone.
I imagine it will
be gone tomorrow
Another attempt to
solve a problem
by covering it up
But the question
remains the same
Where did the people go?
Third poem in an unintended trio. Read the others here:
Despite the upbeat music playing in my car
The drive to work was eerily quiet –
A pale brown deer stood alone
in the corner of the field I pass daily-
I barely caught a glimpse
of her head turning as I drove past
Happy and sad at the same time
A combination of feelings I understand
I don’t understand the deafening
cries to clean up the streets
simultaneously seeking to silence
the cries of hurting hearts
I don’t understand tearing a man
from the only home he knows
destroying his tent and what few
belongings he owns
So much prideful noise, such a lack
of compassion and understanding-
The streets are eerily clean, but
our hearts must answer
the frightening question
hanging stagnant in the air-
Where did the people go?
Which do I prefer?
Remaining on the inside
Hiding, peeking out-
Seeing, imagining
Yet, in a way,
Falsely protected-
-Or-
Stepping outside myself
Away from the walls
Originally placed
To keep out pain
And uncertainty-
Hiding may sound
Like a safer choice
Stepping out, a bit scary-
In which frame of reference
Do I see myself as an integral
Part of the world?
Not simply a bystander
But one ready to explore
Or at least willing to invite you
To climb over the walls-
I think I know the answer
Facing my fears-
Does that mean the same
As overcoming them?
I don’t think so
It doesn’t feel that way
In the moment
Perhaps they’re two
Different things-
Understanding fear’s roots
Proves helpful
And yet, the feelings
Do not simply vanish
Anxious, irrational fears
Of once again being
Out of control
Suddenly flood
Every part of my body-
Time to stop
Take a breath
Sit down
Look directly ahead
Or, if necessary
Close my eyes
Allow tears to fall
And that is ok-
It is helpful to have
Someone next to me
Someone I trust
Who will say
You are safe
It’s ok to close your eyes
You can open your eyes now
And when I step out
Of my comfort zone
Even just a little says
I’m so proud of you!
Kind words
I didn’t know
I needed to hear
You look so pretty
So grounded
From someone
Who has not seen me
In almost a year-
Heartfelt words
Offering
Reassurance
That time
Paired with
Effort and grace
Carries restoration
Twice this week, I ran into friends who are former colleagues. Smiles, hugs, and kind words filled the space we occupied. The visits were brief but left me feeling encouraged.
Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones. Proverbs 16:24
Ok, well…maybe not so simple this Sunday. 😉 This Thanksgiving was not what I had planned or expected. It did, however, remind me of what is truly important. And it reminded me to be thankful for time with those I love, no matter the amount. So many reasons to be thankful. ❤️
A child
Growing
In love
Protected
Encouraged
Carried when
Stretches of
Road turn
Curvy and steep
By those
Refusing
To give up
A parent
Fluctuating
Between
Carrying
And being
Carried
Discovering
A profound truth-
Once a child
Always a child
Once a parent
Always a parent
Each role
Evolving
As the years
Slip by
Until a choice
Becomes
Necessary-
Whether
To embrace
Or ignore
Shifts already
In motion
Although
Avoiding
May seem
Easier
Embracing
Offers
Promise-
A heart
Filled to
Overflowing
Even when
It is broken
We have days dedicated to celebrating almost everything. Days for donuts, coffee, moms, dads, cats, and dogs-and the list goes on and on. Today was MRI day. At least, that is what I decided to proclaim. Especially now that my doctor insists I have one in addition to my mammogram every year.
They are not particularly fun. Imagine lying face down on a narrow table. White towels lining the hole where your face rests. Your arms straight out in front-think Superman pose. No, wait-Wonder Woman. 😉
Once in position, you must be perfectly still for thirty minutes. Perfectly still while the tube you are in makes random, intermittent noises, as if preparing for take-off. Actually, it is just a really loud camera.
I know this probably does not sound like something to celebrate. But this year, I choose to view it differently. I am celebrating deep breaths that helped me to relax. I am celebrating old hymns and classic James Taylor singing inside my head. I am celebrating medical science that says early detection is key.
Even though physically uncomfortable, the above reasons eased my anxiety. And I was reminded that I can do hard things. So, get your mammograms! And if your doctor says the word MRI, you can do it! Until next year! 💕
Tonight, I will
Lie down
Not as if
Holding a
White flag
In surrender
Instead, a
Sign of victory
Reflecting a day
Well-lived
Energy expended
Through actions
Through love
Now in need of
Replenishing
Tonight, I will
Lie down
And rest
Breathing in
The hope of
Tomorrow
Surrendering
To sweet sleep
To stand free
Arms stretched
Wide, bare
Not afraid to
Reveal scars
Admit failings
Like the leafless
Tree-branches
Waving in the
Autumn breeze
Its colors displayed
Only yesterday
Now a quaint
Carpet covering
The cold earth
Trusting the sun
To supply light
And warm its
Exposed form
Confident knowing
Beautiful green
Foliage returns
In the Spring
For truth says
Time is brief
And honestly
Standing sets free
I have shared openly about struggles with anxiety and depression. And I recognize there is always room for improvement in my coping skills.
If I remember to breathe, it helps. If I think ahead, I can prepare for problematic situations. Nevertheless, sometimes things just happen.
My husband and I just returned from a trip to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. Beautiful does not adequately describe either of these places. The vastness and variety in these almost untouched lands are overwhelming.
And yet, even during our wonderful trip, anxiety crept in. We had been exploring Yellowstone all morning and decided to drive to the Tetons. This was the first visit to this area for both of us, an adventure.
This particular drive brought a little more adventure than I preferred. We were driving along, listening to history and information about the area, when the road suddenly took us right along the edge of Clark Canyon.
A quick glance out the window, and I began to panic. My body had an instant reaction. My heart sank, began beating rapidly. My stomach felt like it had been turned upside down. I wanted to crawl in a hole. Yes, I endured. But it was not fun.
Those anxious feelings crept back in later that night. I had trouble sleeping. Would tomorrow’s drive be similar? Slow, deep breaths finally helped, and I was able to sleep.
The next morning, we were on the road again. We had a basic plan of places we wanted to see. Our first stop was great! Some incredible, colorful geothermal displays. But soon, I was feeling afraid of the unknowns. Would we have to drive on any roads like the one yesterday? Just the thought and anxiety began to rise.
Finally, I said it aloud. “The thought of a drive like yesterday is making me feel panicky. I’m not sure I can do it.” After saying those words to my husband and allowing a few tears to fall, I felt much better.
He knows me well. His response was reassuring. Soon we were laughing and ready to face the rest of the day. He even asked a park ranger for advice on the least scary route for our last stop. (Which apparently was not an unusual request.) 😉
Now, I would be lying if I said there were no other moments of panic. However, they did not take over my thoughts. My physical reactions were not as severe, and I was able to enjoy the beauty of the places we visited.
No, I did not want to admit how I felt. But, oh, I am so glad I did. It was an important reminder there is power in admission.
Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, Artist Point Overlook ❤
Piano Girl 