Particularly

Tossing, turning, churning

Sea gray, white cap

Clouds black, air bone chilling.

It came on in a snap

Fan the flame, encourage the heat

Come on fire, I am frozen.

My fingers, my toes, even my seat.

Curl up small, wrap blanket around tight

Planted to this spot I am for the night

Fire crackles, burning fully hot

I think, I wonder

even now, as the room turns bright from lightening

and the sky shakes with thunder.

How to shut out the storm of the heart;

layers deep, way down under.

In a small voice I whisper, "Dear God

take my pain, my burden, my shame."

In an instant, like the fire in the fireplace,

something ignites in my heart.

All aglow and all aflame, peace bursts

to life, comes over me in overwhelming 

warmth. I fan it, encourage it to grow.

I speak words of thankfulness, gratefulness,

making an effort to call this new found joy by name.

Walking hand in hand with Jesus on this winding, twisting road.

Once again He held me close, said He would never ever leave

and reminded me I didn't need to look back. That He did the work

and I would never be the same.

In safety, security, provision and peace we walk hand in hand.

It's an adjustment, but I begin to walk more confidently; alone no more. On solid rock we take each step, no more fear, no more sinking sand.

The journey we take is not always smooth or trouble free. Truth is, it will never be.

We get closer all the time to the dreams He has fashioned just for me.

Fulfilled, lived out, purpose full. Beyond my abilities, courage, and strength, the impossible came to life, first in my heart, then in my head, finally a 3 dimensional reality. Nothing can stand above the loving hand of God. 
With care, attention to detail, He carves out a niche. 

At His hand, there will be no oops or glitch. He takes the broken, worn down and worn out, embittered and shattered, making each life whole and makes it brand new.

This isn't a game, a lie, or a beautiful dream for an exclusive chosen few. 
It's a free gift and absolute truth.

He has done it particularly for me, and particularly 
He waits for you. 

So let Him lend a hand

Have you noticed that the new year begins and old responsibilities meet you in the light of the morning?

The calendar starts at one, but the work, the routine, the needs, the wants, and demands just keep coming.

No magic wand to clean the dishes or please the boss. No wishful thinking that creates more hours in a day.

And no matter how many calendar days start at one, it is just not gonna all get done, nothing tied in a tidy bow because life, even at its best, is a beautiful mess. But don't let that discourage you or defeat you. Use this knowledge as freedom and power. Do your best and let God take care of the rest. Simple yes, but we complicate

it to death, generally speaking. 

So let Him lend a hand.

I know that sometimes it feels like you are standing on sinking sand.

Let Him clear the way.

Have Him show you when to go and when to stay.

Remain calm when nothing seems to be going in your favor.

It is Him that adds the salt to life and all its flavor.

Distance traveled on rough rocky roads matters not, because

 He has in store for you a life you can enjoy, delight

 and savor.

It isn't about getting it all perfect.

It isn't about getting it to look beautiful.

It isn't about being the most popular.

It is about showing up, giving it your best

and expecting good to come out of whatever happens along the way. 
It's about giving God the freedom in your daily life

to bring the exquisite out of the unseen and the bouquet from the seed.

I get tired. I know you do too, but I also know that for whatever, and I do mean whatever

you require, God is the golden ticket 
for
all you will ever need.

Some Me Time I Have Taken

Bubble and Swirl

The water dances around my feet. 

Some "me" time I have taken. 

Pedicure needed, this cannot be mistaken.

Recharge mode this afternoon I'm makin'.

The quiet between

Christmas and New Years.

The work of years end done.

A minute for me; I have one.

The new year approaches,

but not yet arrived. 

Another season of festivities

thoroughly enjoyed by most

and others it was endured and survived.

Whatever has been, whatever is to be, this

minute is mine set aside for little old me. 

Giving is grand

Recharging mandatory

I want to be my best for

the unfolding of this; my

life, my personal story.

Traditions

There might be, must be, other kids in the world like me. Christmas morning, that day when no child needs stirred from their bed. Excitement awakens them and draws them like a magnet to see what awaits  them hidden in those multiplied colorful packages wrapped in ribbon, topped with bows The excitement turned into pure magic each time on this package and that one, your name was attached. Meaning, whatever was inside the box was meant just for you.

I was as excited as the next kid, but apparently not in a big
rush. My sisters, 6 and 9 years older, always eagerly woke me up. The time of morning this abrupt awakening took place, depended on if my Dad had to work that year. As a firefighter that worked 24 on and 24 off, it meant some years he had to spend Christmas at work. On those days we would rise under the cover of darkness to assure we shared the exchanging of gifts as a family. The years he had Christmas at home, we waited until we heard the key turning in the lock. Hearts pounding; Dad was home, meaning Christmas for us, just arrived. Without delay, we made our way to the living room. Dad and Mom together, patiently, happily watching as we tore open the paper and flung open the boxes. Smiling faces, flying thanks, and always Dad and Mom asking, "What did you get?"

Everyone has traditions....those certain practices that make it feel like Christmas; that special feeling of home.

After the last package was opened and the last gift admired, my parents would set to work in the kitchen preparing our Christmas breakfast, as only they could. Pancakes, eggs, grapefruit, topped with a maraschino cherry, and this out of this world sausage they would get from the butcher around the corner. 

The food was great; pancakes hot and fluffy, eggs to everyone's specification, sausage just spicy enough, grapefruit juicy. What made it taste like the magic of Christmas was my parents preparing it for us, with love, as we busied ourselves examining our now revealed presents. Certain ones were to be worn, others assembly required, others yet...ready to go....Let the games begin!

Cozy feelings, warm and fuzzy, hold in your heart days that help you know you belong.The anticipation of something wonderful. The sensation that originated in your heart and found its way to your wiggly, tingly toes.

The magic of Christmas

The togetherness of family 

The belief of good, 

towering over anything 

challenging its right to be there.

The conviction, bone deep,

that happy endings don't live 

only in movies.

The timeless art of believing 

that the babe in that manger 

came with purpose,  

wrapped in power. 

  And it was just for you. 

Sweet Touches

Long overdue hugs, Faces Kissed

Too many to count birthdays,

Thanksgivings, Christmases missed

Separation, Extended Deprivation

Brave faces, aching hearts

The wait is over, the time is at hand

Throw confetti, strike up the band

Long distances turn into arms length reach

These long times apart 

                               Oh, how they teach                                     patience, appreciation of life 

and making

every moment matter

Any day; a chance to express 

your heart to someone you love 

is a day to hold dear 

This time is especially, specifically, particularly wonderful 

right here 

at the end of the year 

Not for granted these precious 

opportunities we take 

The most of every hour, 

every minute, every second 

we will make

Sweet Moments

Creating Memories

It all begins with those initial,

unforgettable, sweet touches

The hand held 

The tear gently brushed away

The shoulder cried on, relied on 

The playful punch

The happy hugs exchanged

Carry them in your heart 

from this day and beyond

From the school yard to the fishing pond,

 The basketball court to the high rise

 nearly touching the clouds

From the farm in the midwest

 to the ranch in the Southwest

From the hot desert sands to the cold, icy Tundra

This December Christmas will come

Traditions played out in each family's special way 

in beautiful synchronicity

of that set aside, set apart day

  

Sentimental thoughts

    Sentimental thoughts, warm feelings, heartfelt smiles

    and simple Christmas wishes; they are all experiences,

    not things to be purchased like pots, pans and dishes.

    When the heart is engaged, reason, logic and practical

       matters take the backseat.  At times it can be the place             your hope, dreams, and the impossible meet.
         A collision of what can never happen, 

but oh look, it just did.

     Sentimental thoughts, warm feelings, heartfelt smiles

     and  simple Christmas wishes. Try them on for size.

     They just might fit. 
Its worth a genuine go, you have to admit. 

A Simple Christmas Memory

Christmas trees down through the years; some winners, some outstanding beauties.

Others outstanding reasons to dream 

of next year's tree.

What I remember is choosing the tree was always an event; piling into the car; expectations high. Walking through the make believe forest; the trees were placed in their spot, not grown there, but they smelled like Christmas.

Without a doubt, the hilarity ensued when we returned home. Dad didn't ever join the choosing a tree adventure, but he was there to lend his muscles to bring the tree into the house and set it up in its designated corner. 

The job of getting the tree straight in the stand

was a touch tense. Dad would get down under the

tree to secure it in place. My job was to hold it, so it

wouldn't fall on him in the process. 

Next, Mom would stand at the far side of the room, inspecting it from every side. The tree would be turned, tweaked, and tilted, ever so slightly, this way and that until she pronounced perfection of placement and position.

Dad would emerge from under the tree red faced and out of breath. Then he would vanish.

At this point the Christmas music was playing and the decoration ritual would begin. Lights stretched across the living room floor to be untangled and examined for certainty that they were in proper working order. Mom would begin at the bottom of the tree and carefully wind them around up and up to the tippy top.

Occasionally, she came up short. She patiently reached to the top, undoing her work and began again. 

This done, it was our turn to carefully, thoughtfully place the ornaments, each one with a story, on the waiting branches. Large ones on the bottom and smaller and smaller ones as we worked our way up. 

Colorful glass balls mixed with specialty, close to our hearts ornaments. The styrofoam ball covered in sparkles created by my sister. The one I made when I was in Blue Birds, fashioned out of dough. The mantle was adorned with garland, candles, and the pine cones I brought home from the school playground, especially for Mom, when I was six. Then, nestled in the middle were the three Wise men, adorned in their beautiful velvet robes, that my Dad's sister made out of beer bottles. I know it sounds tacky, but in truth, they were lovely.

And like every year, as the lights went on first, the tinsel was the finishing touch. Everyone had a hand in it. Personality driven application was evident...some of us did it one strand at a time, others among us would grab a handful, tossing it, letting it fall where it may. In the end, the lights would get turned on and we would all stand back and admire its beauty. It was this moment when Dad always re-appeared to highly compliment a job well done. 

Over time, this same tradition was re-enacted quite

unconsciously. One year the tree was living and another it was flocked. In both instances it was unanimously agreed that once was enough. But, no matter the year, the family gathered, chose, placed, beautified the tree and made another memory.

Years have passed. Life has brought changes, 

not just one or two. Dad is no longer here to lend his

 muscles or compliments. Heaven is now his home. 

Some decorations have been replaced, but the heartfelt expression remains. We have all grown up, but each Christmas day you will find us gathered around the tree. What is to come is for us to wait and see all that is in store, all that is yet to be.