Lovely green accessories
My very own leaves
Identify my type
For all to perceive
Tower above creatures
Though exterior rough
Provide shaded protection
Surprisingly enough
Trunk filled with rings
Showing age with grace
Roots are established
Securing my space
Name may be Pine or Palm- Mimosa, Aspen, or Oak
No matter–my witty narration
Fond memories and laughter evoke
Hidden world of motion
Under smooth layer of blue
Whose creatures won’t survive
Outside the aqua hue
Nor can humans endure
Life in this blue domain
Inventions help us visit
Won’t allow us to remain
World below the waves
Separate from that above
Yet each sustains the other
Dive into this deep with love
Twenty-one today, how can that be?
Seems only yesterday, you were just three
Bossy at times, so sassy and sweet
A perfect description, your Dad would agree
Today all grown up-compassionate and strong
Advocating for special needs, desiring all to belong
Embracing the future, choosing hope in the world you see
A beautiful young woman standing in front of me
Today I remember your blue eyes and curls
Treasuring sweet times with my sassy little girl
Remembering the past but not lingering too long
Learning from you what it means to be strong
Letting go while holding on is where I find myself
Cherishing the pictures which sit on my shelf
So thankful I’m your mom and you’re my sweet girl
Happy Birthday, Dear Rachel! Today is all yours!
Yellow roses are quite captivating. Yellow is not my favorite color, but when it paints the petals of a rose, it causes me to remember sweet faces. Memories of my Grandma Mahar and my father-n-law immediately come to mind. They both loved growing roses, and yellow ones always seemed extra special.
Last week I saw yellow roses in a new way. A beautiful cascade covered my Aunt Pearl’s casket, a single yellow rose placed carefully in her hands. Their beauty, like a blanket of peace, provided comfort during a difficult time. I would imagine Pearl’s love of roses came from her mother, my grandma. And that she passed that love on to her children.
Flowers in this setting may seem insignificant to some, but I would disagree. Anytime objects bring to mind images of those we love, they have value. If we allow them to jog our memory, a cascade of yellow roses may turn into a flood of sweet faces. Faces of those who loved us. Faces we never want to forget.
Condensed drops of water
Floating high in the sky
Easily spotted from the ground
Yet more than meets the eye
Shade for a weary traveler
Relief for the dry, parched earth
Inspiration for an artist’s canvas
Imagery for the poet’s verse
Aesthetic or empirical
Which description would you choose?
Go outside and look up!
What have you got to lose?
Beginnings are important…
Precious as the birth of a baby
Lasting as the first “hello” of a new friend
Simple as the start of the day
Beginnings are difficult…
Uncertainty of a new job
Anger due to unexpected illness
Life after the death of a loved one
Beginnings are lasting…
Challenges that stretch and mold
Tears that cannot be contained
Lifetime of beautiful memories
We all travel a path
Continually crisscrossing others
Sometimes accidentally
Sometimes intentionally
Always connecting
When a connection is memorable
We pause and take notice
Should we choose to embrace our fellow traveler
Our path may change for the better
Our path may change forever
My earliest memories of coffee stem from my Grandma Mahar’s house. Always a fresh pot brewing, Grandma was glad to share a cup. She had nine children and twenty-six grandchildren, so someone was bound to stop by for a visit. Visit is the key word, because in our family, drinking coffee meant conversations around the kitchen table.
Several years ago I realized coffee for me equates to a comfort food due to this strong childhood connection. Not only does it provide literal warmth, it also provides fond memories of growing up in a family that talked, listened, argued, disagreed, and loved, often over a cup of coffee.
Today getting coffee is a common social convention. Whether it’s friends visiting, a nervous first date, a job interview, each may be witnessed at the local coffee shop on any given day. Some may consider the practice routine or mundane. As for me, an invitation to coffee is neither. It’s an invitation to talk, laugh, maybe even cry-enjoying the time our paths are allowed to cross.
Coffee
Fancy or Plain
Black or With Cream
Home or Coffee Shop
Makes no difference to me
Coffee
Warmth and Comfort
Friendship and Family
Laughter and Memories
More than it appears to be
I wrote the following poem based on my connection with a former student. Recent news stories concerning the separation of children from their parents brought it to mind.
Deserved vs. Received
I deserved contempt, judgement, death.
I received forgiveness, grace, life.
I deserved exclusion, distance, rejection.
I received community, acceptance, adoption.
This is Love.
This child deserved love, safety, a community.
She received hurt, fear, isolation.
This child deserved affection, a home, a family.
She received neglect, loneliness, strangers.
This is Sin.
“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.” I Peter 4:8
Piano Girl 