A New Year

On January 1st, I’m usually thinking of how I ought to improve myself. Well, today I feel sad and concerned for a number of individuals in my neighborhood who have serious health problems right now. One dear sweet young lady died last night. another lingers on the brink. Another young lady continues a valiant battle with cancer. Another friend is recovering from a serious accident that will take months to recover from. There’s a heart problem, a shoulder problem, and bowel problems. And so I’m feeling sad today and turned to a journal entry on Memorial Day that expresses my sadness, but also opens the windows of sunshine. I’d like to share it with you. It is written about my Dad.

“I visited your grave today…green grass, the monument, your name, the dates–reminders of a time when you were here. I can visualize your face, and hear your voice. I remember many things: places, holidays, road trips, meals, good times and bad times. I feel the emptiness of your absence and the sadness in it’s wake.

The pain and loss, I think, would be too much to bear, if I thought at all that you yourself really lay beneath the ground. But, no, I do not feel, in fact, indeed, I know, you still live on, the very same, just beyond somewhere. I do not need to see or hear, or even know the place. I only know you live again and we will be together–another place, another time.

I am consoled. I feel hope and rejoice in the reality of a plan that allows me the chance to associate with those I love so much forever, only to be tested with a brief separation that we call death, but is, in reality, just a mysterious journey to an unknown land.

I will not disappoint you. I will not waste time pining about the past and let your absence disable me. I know you would want me to care for others like you cared for us, and to create an existence with an abundance of love and laughter, hope and good things. And so I will revel in the associations I have now. Each minute, each encounter and event is a sacred opportunity and chance to feel and share love, like you gave to me, with those I love her and now.

So Memorial Day means to remember all those whose graves we visit, and to honor them by building timeless, loving memories with my special family I am so fortunate to share my time and space with.


The Christmas Tree

Our Christmas tree has become quite legendary. It’s truly one-of-a-kind with more than 200 elephants hanging, or sitting on the branches! We call it ‘The Elephant Tree’. It is on a rotating base so that we can view all the ornaments that surround the tree. If there is an ornament on the tree that is not an elephant, it has some special significance: a vacation, a beloved memory, etc. Such as, The Goose (pictured below) that Bob’s Mom made, but was not found until after her death. We also have a Christmas village of ceramic houses we painted. One of the painted village represents the old Burgoyne Store that our ancestors operated in Montpelier, Idaho. We put our own words to the familiar song, ‘O Christmas Tree’, reminding us of the decorations in our home. Christmas is a great time of remembering as we honor family traditions. What are some of the things you do?

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree, you turn so very magically!
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree, your ornaments are lovely!
They tell of things we’ve done before, of memories that we adore,
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree, All blessings spin before us.
With elephants both great and small; round and fat, and thin and tall.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree, the pachyderms are ruling.
The bubble lights go flowing by, as rainbow stars delight our eyes.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, We love your laden branches.
Dear Mother made the goose we found, we think of her each time around.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree, with ornaments made lovingly.
The village lights glow warmly; Burgoyne Store to Christmas tree,
Above the town the nighttime sky has stars that shine so brightly.
The fireplace shows Nativity of Jesus Christ born humbly,
With shepherds and the wise men too, worshiping with me and you.

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Thank You

This is a post-Thanksgiving poem to remind us that it is always appropriate to be thankful. Today I’m thankful that it is snowing and I don’t have to drive to work.

Thank you God for everything
For mountains high, for rivers that sing
For oceans wide with endless sky
For mammals, fish and birds that sing and cry.

Thank you God for family
For grand kids, sweet, where joy runs free
For each child and married spouse
For foods to eat and a cool warm house.

For a wife that cares and honors me
For time to enjoy our family
For vacations amid the cares of life
For trials to share in toil and strife.

Thank you God for thy pure Son
Who gave his all for everyone
Who lived and died that we might see
How we can grow both pure and free.

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Praise the Lord

Why is it that the fall colors: red, yellow, orange, brown….make us feel peaceful and grateful? Tradition is strong. Memories of sitting around the Thanksgiving table with family are powerful, and I am led to give thanks for family, past and present. Another year of peace and plenty. How truly blessed we are. May our thoughts, hearts, and help be turned to those who are in want; the numberless masses without shelter, or food, or even family.

Praise the Lord with heart and mind, by what we say and do.
Thank the Lord for everything we see and know that’s true.
Each day we live, each trial we face; in peace and also war,
The more we praise our Lord and King, the more our joy will soar.

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Two Worn Out Shoes

Well, from the number of comments we’ve received, I assume that no one is reading. If I’m wrong, please send a comment. Hello, out there? Anyway, I’ve been thinking about how nice it is to have a buddy. Bob is my buddy. I found this poem I penned about 10 years ago. Read it and tell me about your buddy.

You and me, two worn out shoes
Treks and trips, we’ve had a few,
And when times come I need to choose,
Above all else, I choose you.

High fashion never was our lot.
We scrimped and saved and never bought
The things most other people sought.
Yet we were rich, or so we thought.

We worked and sweat to build a home.
Your Uncle Bob–Farm Home Loan.
Year after year, stone upon stone,
A place where all would love to come.

Memories along the way
Explored new roads day after day.
Some places near, some far away.
We made good times at each new stay.

Our lives, they changed once Aaron came.
New days ahead, and yet the same.
Then Val and Eve joined in the game.
Each brought us joy and also pain.

From coast to coast, across the land
You’ve basked with me in forests grand.
And walked along the shores of sand.
In heaven too, you’ll have my hand!

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Heaven’s Harmony

Last Friday we drove our grand kids up to Twin Falls, Idaho, where they have purchased a home, and will be living, far far away from me. I have been feeling the separation. Seems as if I have a paper bag over my head. I can’t see and I can’t breathe. I want to reach out and touch them. I want to know what they are doing right now. I want to know if they are OK. It hurts, and I constantly pray for strength to face each day. That’s why I posted nothing on Monday. Too busy getting their old house ready to sell. Garbage, cleaning, and organizing.

While we were up in Idaho, I taught my grand kids a song that I wrote more than 30 years ago. It was written when we moved into this house. I had great hopes and aspirations for our home to be a bit of heaven on earth. I want their home to be heaven on earth too.

Within these walls lies heaven’s harmony.
Behind these doors grows love in plenty.
Under our roof there’s peace all around.
Our home is where true happiness is found.

At home we practice sharing happily.
We care for all our blessings thankfully.
And think of others, often, lovingly.
Our home’s a bit of heaven’s harmony.

Our house, our house, God bless our home
With safety, peace and love.
Our house, our house, God bless our home
With Thy sweet spirit from above.

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Memories

These last few weeks have been very stressful to me. My son and family, who live 1.5 miles away, are moving out of state…probably next week. Buying and selling homes should not be this hard, complicated, or frustrating. The closing date keeps shifting, and requirements keep popping up. I like to feel in control. I find security in that, and when events cannot be planned, it explodes my brain and clicks on the ‘worry’ switch. I really do hope that someday I will look back on this time and tell myself that there was no reason to fret. Then there is the component of missing the grand kids, who I now see on a daily basis. Put all that into a pot, and I’m a bundle of stress. I really do need to make each encounter/visit meaningful, not just because they’re leaving, but to make it a part of what I do all the time. Make memories.

The things we do together
Store memories in the heart
Remaining there to be
Called up when we’re apart.
To remind us of the
Love we shared
In days now in our past.
They weld our love together
With a bond to always last.

Tell me what you do to keep in touch with loved ones, especially the little ones.

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The Bear Lake Monster

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I know that we said we’d post a poem every Monday, but. Today I’m going to vary from that and tell a story that accompanies my newest painting entitled “The Bear Lake Monster”. My grand kids have repeatedly asked me about the Bear Lake Monster because I grew up there and spent much time at the beach. When I tell them that I’ve never seen it, they press me for my opinion about it’s appearance. Well, let’s put the question to rest:

The last rays of the sun had just disappeared from the rolling mountains that form the border on the east side of Bear Lake. It was a refreshingly cool summer evening, the first night at the Lakeside Lodge. Everyone had come to a family get-together: Grandma & Grandpa & their 3 children and spouses & 6 grand kids. The day was mostly spent unpacking and exploring the cabin and surrounding lake property. There had even been an excursion to North Beach with sun, waves and lots of sand (much of which made it’s way back to the cabin.) The littlest ones were now being bathed to remove it from their feet. Grandma was cleaning up the dishes and food in the kitchen. Others had gathered in the family room with immense windows facing the lake. As evening drew near, the blinds were lowered, creating a cozy den that now hosted much conversation, frivolity, and silliness.

Two small ones, still awaiting their bath time, had escaped to the yard and were trampling about on the wooden pier, feeling like conquerors of the lake and all surrounding area. In the stillness of the lake, one pointed out the large ripple passing by a short distance out.

Without warning, and silently, except for the sudden splash of waves, the ripple rose from the lake in all it’s immensity, revealing, in it’s wake a huge, fin-backed, blue-purple-silver shimmering monster, who had stopped in it’s powerful swim, planted all four legs in the lake, and with purpose and intent, turned it’s head to stare directly at the two children, now frozen on the end of the pier. For a moment, the beast was motionless and although it’s eyes were yellow, large, and piercing, the stare was not threatening, just a quiet, curious glance at the two figures. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it submerged itself and continued swimming northward, it’s sturdy fin slowly disappearing in the distance.

The two were wordless for just a few seconds, and then explosively hurled themselves into the cabin to relate the tale to the family, who were oblivious of all outside events, and skeptically patronizing to the tale now told with great animation and wide eyes.

And so, the legend of the Bear Lake Monster lived, at least in the hearts of the two.

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Forgotten Love

We all have good intentions–to get acquainted with a new neighbor–send a card of sympathy–pay an old friend a visit—tell somebody you love them–stop and listen with your heart. Too often I go to bed at night, having done nothing thoughtful for someone else. Didn’t cheer up anyone. Didn’t hug anybody. Made no phone calls…didn’t even send little text. The more I neglect to do this, the more dissatisfied I feel, and, the more I do it, the more peace I feel. I’d like to live each day with no regrets.

Yesterday’s words of comfort,
Why are they left unsaid?
Yesterdays’s words of gratitude
That never leave your head.
Tomorrow’s trials will surely come,
Then let’s express this day
The feelings and emotions
That come through work and play.
For kindness never leaves us cold,
But warms each new today,
For words of love and comfort
Make firm tomorrow’s way.

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TV

Bob wrote this one long ago, before i-pads and video games, and cell phones. They could be added also. I think that perhaps we could call our day successful if we have actually spoken, face to face, with another human; the kind of thing where they talk and we listen, and then we talk and they listen; and we look at each other; and we live in the present. Anybody else agree?

See how they laugh
See how they cry
See how they live
See how they die.
While I become a vegetable
With an eye.

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