Birthday Miracles

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Dawn calls us through a window (freed from ivy vines)
Through the labor of my best friend with her heart, body and mind.
God gives us each talents and watches what we do.
We each have our agency to choose what we want to.

The Son's gold touches the sky.  The clouds catch His first rays.
I rose up slow and careful and stretched my pain away.
I gave my thanks to Heaven, to live just one more day--
rose and dressed and slipped away, as my mate slept on today.

I went out our front door and drove to a special place
Above the wake-up noise of each soul's fleeting race.
I watch the Son's miracles caress each cloud on high,
And gaze in awe-struck wonder, of this earth, clouds and sky.

From deer to bunny rabbits, to the birds that praise each dawn,
Each miracle reflects God's eternal song.

Now I sit again, in silence as my mobile turns before my face,
Reminding us of each precious goal; each family's special in time & space.


Bob wrote this on his birthday–July 20. Here it is, almost September, and I’m supposed to post a poem every Monday. Well, that hasn’t happened this summer. We’ve really been on the run and have not been home-based. But I suspect there aren’t many of you who race to your computer on Monday morning to catch the newest post, do you? If I lived for comments, I’d be dead! So that’s a scolding for both of us.

This is China Cove…one of the places that has distracted me from the blog this summer.
If you only had one more day, what would you do?Download

Little Hummingbird

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You are special to me,
My little hummingbird...
Your happy face,
Screams of delight,
The way you want to hold my hand,
Your silent, thoughtful manner,
Your explosive enthusiasm,
Your ever-present wit,
The way you play together,
Your faces when you sleep,
The way you take pickles off cheeseburgers,
Your excitement over a penny,
The way you stick up for Jetta.
You make no demands of me.
Your creative talent,
The little poems you write,
Your tender feelings,
The way you sing Moana songs,
The way you stick up for yourself,
The way Grandpa is your best friend,
Because you are my tent buddy,
The way you eat cheeseburgers.





I found this poem saved on my desktop, and I don’t know who wrote it, so, somebody confess! I don’t know where it came from. Another sign of my old age, I guess. I could have written those words because they ring so true to me, but I didn’t.

Little things mean so much: The way we do things, unique to ourselves. It’s like Mr. Rogers used to say, “There’s no person in the whole world like you, and I like you just the way you are.”

Little Hummingbird

Ollie’s Song

Jeanne 1 Comment

So, this has been a really busy bunch of months, and, in case you have been watching, I have not been posting every Monday morning, or even every week. As I was trying to go to sleep the other night, for some reason, words to a lullaby kept coming into my mind; not a known lullaby, but a new one, especially for our upcoming grandchild. They flowed into my mind, and I hoped that in the morning I would be able to remember them. Ha. Well, I got up and wrote them down. Laid back down. Tried to sleep. More words kept coming. Got up again. Wrote them down, and put them to an Irish tune in the morning. Now, we are waiting for baby to come in November!

Come away wee little laddie
Lean your head upon my breast.
Come away with me to dreamland.
Close your eyes and take a rest.

Oh, wee lad, you are a treasure;
More than silver, more than gold.
You're a gift sent straight from Heaven;
Ours to love and ours to hold.

May the stars that light the heavens
Shine their light throughout the night.
Stand a watch as you are sleeping,
'Til the morning shines her light.

Oh, wee lad, you are a treasure;
More than silver, more than gold.
You're a gift sent straight from Heaven;
Ours to love and ours to hold.

May the sun shine down upon you;
Keep you safe and keep you warm.
May our love abide forever;
Keep you far away from harm.

Oh, wee lad, you are a treasure;
More than silver, more than gold.
You're a gift sent straight from Heaven;
Ours to love and ours to hold.

May you always know we love you,
Little Laddie, boy of mine!










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But, You Can!

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If I wrote about a vacation, who would want to read it? Is there anyone as interested in the details as I am? I don’t think so….I think I write for me; kind of making a road map of life events that somehow allow you to take that road again–maybe not in the car or on the plane–maybe so, but maybe not. You don’t have to because you’ve already been there. You’ve already seen the show and it slips into one of those folders in that huge filing cabinet small enough to fit invisibly in my mind, or is it my spirit?..It must be because it’s not tangible. But I can open up that folder at will…that’s why I write. That’s why I take photos; otherwise, I fear the folder might be empty–what then?

Then I can’t achieve a ‘state of being’. I can’t dance to the music again. I can’t skip down the street. I can’t sparkle inside. I can’t absorb the saturation of excitement, and it can’t lift me, can’t give me wings….ah…but my folder isn’t empty, and so I can! You see, I don’t have to really come home to stay. Neither do you. Just take that smile , vision, thrill, tear, that time when you held your breath and when you held so tight, sang so free, felt so glorious, and heard their wonder, exhilaration, awe, fulfillment…it’s all there. It’s a state of being, bolted and bonded, never to really ever slip away. Isn’t it wondrous?

Eden

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I will entitle this entry as “Eden” because I feel I have been to the Garden of Eden last week. My daughter and I took a trip to Carmel-by-the-sea, visiting the coastline, Monterey Aquarium, Point Lobos, and the enchanting downtown Carmel with never-to-be-forgotten gift shops, and dining that was most memorable and also tasty.

I was going to write a poem about it; something to catch the wonder, the fresh sea breezes, the vivid and wild ocean, the amazing creatures, and so much more….but all I could think of was the words to the hymn, “O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds thy hands have made, I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, Thy pow’r throughout the universe displayed…..when thru the woods and forest glades I wander, and hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees, When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur, and hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze….Then sings my soul, my Savior, God, to thee, How great the art! How great thou art!

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All that is around us testifies that we are His children and that He blesses us with His love, if we will but listen and look.

Boy in the Red Jacket

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This posted poem is contributed by a guest writer, my daughter, Eve.  My thoughts so often turn to my children and grandchildren with reflections on how fast time takes them from me.  Several of my previous posts have been focused on that very sentiment, and, the older I get, the deeper I feel the distance, and the more I ache to gather them all in an everlasting embrace.  As I look through old photographs of when my kids were babies or grade school age, I see images that verily suck me back in time and place to some spot to briefly see and feel it all over again.  I can still see myself checking to see if they’ve fallen asleep, or I can see them all packed into a vehicle on the road to some anticipated vacation.  I see them playing in the house, and chuckle again at the super hero costumes that often accompanied that play.  I see Sunday tents in the living room, and bunnies and puppies in the back yard.  I see a LIFE made of photographs.  What follows is written by Eve Richardson:





James and I took a walk tonight.  The last night of spring break.  But sometimes, when I slow down enough it seems like more than winter is coming to an end.  More like an era might be closing.  Here am I–holding onto the past, trying to embrace the future.  Always more useful in retrospect than in the moment.





Boy in the Red Jacket
running, running, running
winter at your back
as you sprint into spring

"Time me Mama!"
How fast you traverse each corner
my watch is broken
or is it my heart?
all these seconds--slipping away

Boy in the red jacket
running, running, running
short legs, pumping
looking back--to make sure I'm still there

You run so fast
I want to keep up 
but I can't
the corner, always on the horizon
I'm here, still here, always here

Boy in the red jacket
Thief of my heart
I look forward--to make sure you're still there
the sun is setting
that odd, enchanting quality of light
I'll see you there--forever.







This image was posted here on 20 November 2017.  It’s called “Into the Woods”  and is a painting of my six grandchildren moving forward, so fast!


							

					

	






	

				
							
		

			


				
DRIFTING


								

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Drifting on the Sea of Life is such a risky thing.
Without a  chart & compass, the rocks & reefs of life can sting.
The treacherous waves await us, with every wind that blows.
The sirens of lies & deceit can blind our troubled souls,

Confusing truths direction, depending on our goal.
Without a map & compass to God's light, how can we know
A safe & clear, proven coarse, upon life's troubled sea,
Unto that safe, sure harbor, awaiting you and me?

There is a perfect captain, who calls to every soul,
Across the endless waves of time & space to help us grow.
His motive is our welfare.  He guides us from on high
To bring us safely home to Christ's harbor, if we will serve and try.

He gives us charts and maps to guide post rocks and hidden reefs.
His compass is the scriptures;  prayer calls Him to our relief
Past rocks of sorrow & tears, and reefs of hidden deceit,
Unto the peaceful harbor, where life becomes more pure and sweet.

I've done my share of drifting, with no set place to go.
I've sailed through deep depression of body, mind and soul.
I've wrecked upon the rocks & reefs of pride's dark vanity.
I felt the emptiness, as my sins washed over me.

I called unto my Master:  "Please help my sin-torn life!"
He reached his hand beneath life's waves, as I drowned in my strife.
He guided me to others, who understood life's maze.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints teaches of His ways.

Past all the rocks & hidden reefs, as we follow the Holy Son
Through storms of all our trials, Christ helps us work as one.














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The above link will open a file to hear the song “Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me.”







							

					

	






	

				
							
		

			


				
Don’t Go Faster


								

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Don't go faster than we have the strength to go.
Don't feel guilty for needing to go slow.
We need to be wise about what we can do.
Don't be afraid to ask the Lord to help us make it through.

When someone asks us for help along their way,
Weigh each circumstance with what we do today.
It's better to do one thing well, than two things badly.
Time is a precious gift.  Spend it gladly. *

We each have things we care about.  Dreams we want to do.
Only those who watch their time, will make good dreams come true.
When someone asks for a dime, let us give them two.
A generous soul receives again; good deeds bring God's love through.

Remember, be slow to say, "I will." So we won't break our word.
Only when the spirit calls can we truly serve.
Don't run faster than we have strength,
Or life can get absurd!

*D&C 123:17--Therefore, dearly beloved brethren, let us cheerfully do all 
things that lie in our power; and then my we stand still, with the utmost
assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed.














Early settlers to the Bear Lake Valley built this old cabin in Fish Lake, Utah.  Pioneers have always been fascinating to me.  The ones who came to Bear Lake Valley in 1863 were sent by Brigham Young from the Salt Lake area.  Just think.  The Salt Lake Valley wast first settled in 1847 at great sacrifice to build homes, plant gardens, and to just try to stay alive.  I’m thinking that those early settlers would have thought they were running faster than they had strength, but perhaps it was a matter of survival.  Then, after having been there for only a few years, perhaps just enough to build that home and clear land for a farm, they were asked to move again to a colder, less hospitable place.  And they went.  They were asked to do something that I believe may have seemed too hard, too much.





I think that we, as mothers, are sometimes asked to go too fast; to do too much; to spread ourselves way too thin.  But we do it.  Why?  Because we love.  Is that bad?  You tell me.  Should the pioneers have said, “No.”?  When are we really justified to say no?  Think about it, and let’s come back an finish this.  PLEASE COMMENT!





The link below is entitled “Just a Mom”  Click on the ‘red’ to view..It’s only a couple of minutes.





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Man Up


								

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Man up! When life knocks us down; Look up and see the sky.
There are always important lessons in the things that make us cry.
When we help lift another from their sorrow and their pain,
We too lift up our own hearts, through kind service we do gain.

As we 'man up' in our spirits, we are healed within our soul,
To face another week, as we from the Sabbath grow.
Though our pains and sorrows sting us, and temptations come each day,
We grow to know we're lifted, as we strive, fast and pray.

As we pray each dawn and eve, unto our Father, for His light,
And thank God for everything--each bright day and starry night,
Each of us can take comfort, if we 'man up' and try our best.
The Father, Son and Holy Ghost, help every worthy quest.

There is a Norman Rockwell painting entitled "Lift Up Thine Eyes".












This is so typical of us today, except we’ve all got cell phones!  Looking up can just be paying attention to our surroundings–a blue sky, a flower pot, a beggar on the street, a tree, or maybe even the person we are walking with!  I like how the birds in the painting draw our eyes up and up and up.  Life can be so routine, but there is wonder and promise even in that.  Yes, even in taking out the garbage or cleaning up after breakfast, or, heaven forbid, doing the laundry.  Look up.  Take a deep breath.  Smile.  Pay attention to each step of this journey we call life.  Open your eyes and really see.  Click on the red title of the video below for a 1 minute video that demonstrates one way we can LOOK UP!





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I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.  My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. (Psalms 121:1-2)


							

					

	






	

				
							
		

			


				
Saving Grace


								

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Last month we took our van to Jiffy Lube for an oil change, and other minor details.  In the business of the day, I sent Bob alone this time, with instructions to please not let them talk us into a big bill, since the Christmas budget was tight.  All in all, it still added up to a little over $200, a painful amount, BUT, while he was sitting in the lobby, waiting for the work to be done, he finished writing a poem (quoted below)  and shared it with an individual who was also waiting.





When the work was done and the time came to pay , he was informed that the bill had already been paid by the other gentleman in the lobby!  What a generous gift, and what a surprise!  Perhaps sharing poetry is not as unwelcome as I had come to wonder.





So we went out to I-Hop to celebrate this tender mercy shown to us.  As we entered the cafe, Bob, in his usual exhuberant voice declared, “Merry Christmas!  I don’t care if that offends anybody.” I sheepishly and quickly ducked into our booth and counseled him to simplify and just keep it to “Merry Christmas”!





After the meal, the server came to our booth and informed us that another customer had paid for our meal.  What a day of tender mercies!  I don’t suppose this story has much to do with the poem below, except that it was the one he quoted to the Jiffy Lube angel, and, perhaps to realize that God often sends blessings in the form of strangers, or friends, or whatever.





Our saving Grace is here for every single soul,





Who strives to understand the Son, as our own spirit’s grow.





We can’t serve two masters.  We can’t serve hate and love.





If we are filled with anger, we can’t feel the peaceful dove.










If we are by the fire, but lay down in the snow,





One act can cancel the other as our heat and warmth does go.





If we go to church on Sunday, but sin throughout the week,





We stagnate like a desert pond and dry up beneath sin’s heat.










The saving Grace of Christ lifts us when we are weak,





If we humbly pray and ask for help, our Lord comforts us, as we seek.





We can feel His wondrous love, in our darkest hour





If we pray with body, soul and mind; we can feel Christ’s wondrous power.










We have found the saving Grace of Christ is a never-ending song.





It sings to us when we are weak, and helps us grow more strong.





And when we fear, from earthly woes, it whispers to our soul–





Keep striving for the Holy Ghost, then we will forever grow.





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All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen.  -Ralph Waldo Emerson-