Wednesday, December 28, 2016
"Write your sorrows in sand and your gratitude in granite"
This comes from a wise and far away blogging friend, who sometimes writes in letters and a language that I don't understand, but not this time. We live in different countries and are influenced by different cultures but after many years of blogging, we know each other's heart.
I will remember this advice so well that I'm hoping it may have the same effect on you.
Happy year ahead, with love
Wednesday, December 21, 2016
This time of year, I miss the way blogging use to be. Before Facebook, I and about 30 or 40 connected folks would blog weekly, often more, and share all kinds of small and large thoughts and talents and going-ons. I loved connecting with my blog friends all year, and especially sharing the holidays together.
I felt like I had a reason to take photos, to write poems, to share what wisdom I might trip upon. I miss so many people!
For what it's worth, this Christmas and the wrap-up of this year is ending with hope. There's been real and potential illness swirling around me and my family for a number of months and that takes its toll. But we're all okay--improving daily, and I am nothing if not grateful. So this Christmas I have no complaints.
I have holiday advice if you have an interest:
1. Expect nothing. Not community, not civility, not presents, not well being. And then let whatever good happens wash over you.
2. Give. This always makes me feel good. Find someone or some reason to give and offer your time, your money, a gift, a surprise, a meal, a donut, a kind word. You'll be the better for it. Guaranteed.
3. Wait to worry. My old standby mantra. Don't worry a minute before you have to. Because if you wait, chances are the reason to worry may have morphed or lessened or maybe even disappeared.
That's it from me. Thanks as always for stopping by my beloved blog. I'll be visiting you too.
And thanks for the friendship. It counts for a lot.
Happy happy holidays with
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
There was never a time
Those last seven years
When your smile was lessened
By any fear.
You moved to a place
Far away from your home
You knew not a soul
And you moved in alone.
A walker, a wheelchair, your memory gone
Yet whenever you saw me it was like a new dawn.
You'd ask, “How did you even know I was here?”
And I learned the right answer, I learned to be clear:
“I will always know Mom, there will never once
When I don’t know where to find you, not a day or a month.
Always you'd greet us, so happy and kind;
Every day you lost memory, but never your mind.
You died with such grace, Mom,
No complaint or false fright
We watched you breathe softly and pass into the night.
It’s been two years already,
I’m so proud who you are
And I know there’s a card game
Taking place on a star.