Word List

I started the day with a two-minute word list writing exercise. Set the timer, start writing, and see where it goes. My list, not surprisingly, began with sadness and tears. But it ended with hope and future.

I haven’t used this exercise in a while. I’m glad I chose it today. Grateful for where it led.

My dad was proud of his grandkids and loved them very much. You can see it in the pictures. And they know it in their hearts.

He was so excited about becoming a great-grandpa. Even though he had not met this sweet new baby, he already loved her.

I know her mom and dad will tell her stories about all her great-grandparents someday. All the while, writing new stories to be shared in the future.

I can’t wait to meet our granddaughter…💗

Simply Sunday

Morning Streets

On our way
To a coffee shop
Little girl
Laughing
Running
Down the sidewalk
Her little dog
Running alongside
Dad and brother
Close behind
Their destination
An interactive
Statue standing
On the corner
An airplane
With a propellor
Inviting them to spin
Pick us up, Daddy!
Each had their turn
That was so much fun!
They kept walking
I noticed dad’s shirt
It was torn and tattered
They were smiling
I wonder what will be
Their next destination

Driving past
A group of people
Who have no home-
Only make-shift
Shelters made
From cardboard
And blankets
All their belongings
Carefully placed
In large trash bags
Or worn out
Duffle bags
A few smiled
Most looked tired
A kind of tired
I do not know
One crawled
Helplessly
Along the sidewalk-
What are their stories?
I can only guess
And guessing
Is not sufficient-
Who will share their narratives?

I wrote these two poems during our summer trip to Colorado. Our overnight stop was in a typical city, like many other cities in this country. Good restaurants and coffee shops, local charm. Also, like in other cities, many individuals are homeless.

I do not pretend to understand or have answers, but I could not look away. Nor keep from sharing.

Macaroni and Cheese

I like macaroni and cheese. In high school, that and baking a cake were the extent of my cooking. My mom even entered a recipe on my behalf for a church cookbook one year. Not a cake. Oh no, it was the instructions from the back of the Kraft macaroni and cheese box.

My kids also like mac-n-cheese. It was a staple in our house. Of course, I always tried to pair it with broccoli or green beans. Balanced meals, you know.

Some stories need to be remembered. Told over and over. Handed down from one generation to the next. And not just the ones considered to be pleasant. Also, the challenging ones. Those are the ones that show resilience, teaching valuable lessons.

This is one of those stories. And, of course, it involves macaroni and cheese.

My parents have always been hard workers. But like many others, hard work did not always keep hard times at bay. Some years were more difficult than others. And when I was little, money was tight.

My dad was a carpenter and was working on a house about an hour away from our home. One day, mom and I went along for the ride. Well, sort of. You see, he had not yet gotten paid for his work.

Macaroni and cheese…they had one box left. So, we went with him, taking the box along with us. While dad was working, mom cooked the mac-n-cheese on the job site in an electric popcorn popper. That way, all three of us would have something to eat for lunch.

That same day, the woman that owned the property retrieved a frozen chicken from her kitchen. And though my dad was a little uncertain about that chicken, it went home with us that afternoon, along with his paycheck. It was available that day after work.

Perhaps some would think of this as a sad story. Not me. I see the resilience of two people, able to keep going, making the best out of a difficult situation.

Anytime we talk about this time in our lives, Mom always reassures me. “No matter how hard things got, we always made sure you did not go without. You always had what you needed.” Without a doubt. ❤️

Truth is, not only did we survive as a family, but we also thrived! And though my cooking skills have improved a little, I still like macaroni and cheese.

Hands

So much of life’s stories
Are revealed in our hands-
My Dad’s hands
Are rough, strong
Years of wood, saws,
Hammers and nails
The story of a carpenter
My Mom’s hands
Are softer, achy from arthritis
Years of cleaning, cooking,
Caring, calculating, typing-
The story of a working mom
What about my hands?
I know what my hands have done-
But what story do others see?
What story do my children see?
I hope the most important one-
Holding their tiny hands
As their story began

Schemes to Switches

I’ve previously mentioned that my husband loves referring to me as a schemer.  Once an idea enters my thoughts I work to make it a reality.  This particular trait appeared way before meeting him. I’m certain my mom could testify. One example from my childhood stands out clearly above the rest.

I don’t remember exactly our age, definitely younger than ten.  The “we” was me and my cousin Rebecca, a great schemer in her own right.  Born only twenty days apart, we were always close growing up. Rebecca has five younger sisters. Imagine seven little girls when you added me to the mix!

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~Me and Rebecca~

There was one specific instance when I’d been invited to spend a few days with my cousins. We all piled into their Volkswagen Bug and began the thirty-minute drive to their house.  During the short trip, Rebecca and I immediately began plotting.

Our scheme? Secretly sneak out of their house and walk several miles down a dirt road to visit her Uncle Jack and his family.  Why were we being sneaky?  I have no idea! But we were all ready to go the next morning.

There was one small problem.  Barbara, one of the younger sisters apparently overheard our conversation and insisted on tagging along. What if we said no?  She would tattle on us, of course!

Off went our little trio, down the long driveway, and out onto the dirt road.  We were not even past the house when we heard Aunt Mary’s voice, “Rebecca? Kelley? Barbara?  Where are you, girls?”  We attempted hiding in the ditch, but Barbara started to cry.  Shushing her proved impossible and we were quickly discovered.

Our adventure was foiled, and talk about being in trouble. Aunt Mary took a switch to our legs while we ran around the yard like a bunch of chickens.  Though the switch didn’t really hurt us, it did help teach us a valuable lesson.  Seeing this now as a parent, I’m certain we caused Aunt Mary a great deal of panic. She was, after all, attempting to keep up with seven young girls.

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~The six sisters and me all grown up~

Reminiscing over this little adventure has brought lots of laughter over the years.  But the best part of the story is yet to come. To this day if we mention it around Aunt Mary, she still feels terrible about switching us!  Forty plus years later!  She has to be one of the most kind, patient, calm people I’ve ever known.  Managing all of us girls while keeping her sanity had to be challenging.

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~My mom and her sister, my Aunt Mary~

Did our scheming pay off in the end?  Well, not exactly the way we had planned. We did learn an important life lesson about being safe.  But even more important, we were reminded then and continue to be reminded now, how much we are loved.

I love you, Aunt Mary

 

 

 

Something to Say

The following essay was written for a Writing Contest hosted by Positive Writer entitled You are Enough.

http://positivewriter.com/writing-contest-you-are-enough/

I believe each one of us has something important to say.  Valuable ideas, opinions, and questions are always hovering at the forefront of our minds. The decision to keep these thoughts inside our head, say them out loud, or write them down is personal. But once we decide to engage in this process of writing, the freedom experienced far outweighs any prior apprehensions.

Whether typed on a personal tech device or handwritten in a journal, the simple act of writing words down gives them life. Suddenly we see them in a different light. Simple ideas once floating around in our head instantly become concrete-combinations of letters in black and white ready to be read over and over, edited and expanded.

Once words are given life, we have another choice to make. Will our words remain private or will we find an appropriate platform for sharing?  Some may remain unread until we are no longer living, leaving behind insights intended only for those closest to us.  Others we may choose to display freely for anyone to read.

My family recently received a wonderful gift of words. After the passing of my Aunt Pearl, numerous precious pages written in her own handwriting were discovered by her children. Did she consider herself a writer? No-yet her words, beautifully describing her life, her hopes and her dreams, provided comfort during a time of grief.

Certain words, however, need to be shared in the present. Not only for the writer’s benefit but also the unexpected help they may provide others. A strong likelihood exists that other people are coping with the same life challenges and fears, yet have not found the courage to give their thoughts life.  Your words may provide the encouragement they need.

I was extremely nervous about sharing my personal story concerning depression in written form.  Typing those confessions gave them a new sense of reality.  Once I took the next step and clicked the publish button, a flood of positive responses arrived. Others suddenly felt free to tell their personal stories, and their powerful words provided the realization that I was not alone in my struggles.

What happens when we choose courage and allow our words to make a positive contribution to this world?  We won’t know until we write. Don’t be afraid!  Your thoughts have great value. And once put into words, they help tell your story-the specific set of life experiences belonging only to you. No one else is exactly like you, and someone out there needs to hear your words, your insights, your story! Get busy writing!

Something important needs to be said which only you can say!