Still in it...

Christmas is done.
As we speak, New Years plans are being spun.

Proposals will be popped.The discovery of babies on the way announced. From the excitement of first kisses at the stroke of midnight, bringing tingles, shivers, and flutters....
to 50 years of New Years together celebrated... some at grand parties, others quietly cuddling under the covers. 

Enjoy your New Years Eve, but be smart,
be careful; give your loved ones no need
to be tearful or prayerful.

Make a point to meet the new year....
greet the dawn of the new day.
Take a moment.....allow the sunrise
to cause you to pause a minute
with a grateful heart..........to 
realize how blessed you are with this
beautiful world and the fact that after
all the bumps, twists, and turns.... you
are still in it.

The Way Home

We all have a personal journey we take through life. A path all our own. God lays it out before our feet.  It is our choice if we step in time with God or take rabbit trails along the way. They are clearly marked ....

"Too Stubborn To Listen Lane"

"Insist On Learning The Hard Way"

"I Know It's Wrong But Feels So Good Avenue"

We all have these alternate routes branching out of our true path.  The beautiful, wonderful, exciting truth about God is that He marks the way back.

Even when we are deep in the forest of fear and confusion, we are not alone. Always remember that in our daily routine, God is ever present. If we lose sight of our personal path, nothing is lost. We can hold on to hope, knowing with confidence that God will light the way home.

Boxes

Boxes.... Moving Ones
Boxes.... Pencil Filled
Boxes.... Chocolate Laden
dark, white, milk, coconut covered,
nut filled, marshmallow smooth, toffee crunch.
Hand me that box, leave us in peace, this box
and I will keep each other company, I have
decided to eat it all for lunch!

Boxes.... foil wrapped, shimmering and sleek,
red, green, purple, and even a touch of pink.
A golden locket, football tickets, woolly sweaters,
accessories for i phones, and lovely new outfits.
Some spot on and some, keep it to yourself, total misfits.

Boxes, letters, bound together with silk ribbon,
worn from years of being tied and untied.
Pages faded and yet, message bright,
all those years ago, you read the words, touching
and true. You feel so near, it could have been tonight.

Out of the box with our thinking.
Unshackle from the expected.
Do something without being detected.
Clean a kitchen, surprise the lot, when they walk in
 to find all the dishes away in the cupboard
Every pot shining, not even a spot.

Clean a bathroom, shower, toilet and tub,
soap scum vanishing with every scrub.
Long days, high expectation, often the best
gift can be open arms offering a hug.

The best gift of all has been bestowed
in the days of old. You will find it's truth
in every corner, down each lane, path, and road.
The babe, He arrived unarmed and unclothed.
His purpose in coming, that was pure love to secure
the way for you to say, "Yes please lift my heavy burdens,
my crushing load"

Pop some popcorn, heat the cocoa,
settle in to hear about Jesus........
the best truth ever told.

Letters With Grandma

Letters are the bridges that allow us to reach each other over the miles and across the years. The hand written letter has given way to e-mail and texting these days, but for my Grandmother, there was no substitution for a personally written letter. Grandma's desk held years of family happenings. From all over the country, daughters, sons, grandchildren, and brothers and cousins would write regularly with the latest news. Many times tucked inside the folded pages, a snapshot of a sweet moment could be found. It could range from graduation pictures to an article that made a local paper, causing a family member to be mildly and momentarily famous. Always, though, it was the words and the love floating off the page into all of our hearts that was so meaningful. The reading of the letters was an event. Grandma's desk was situated on the back wall, the centerpiece of the living room.

We gathered around, often after sharing a meal together, because for grandma, food was love. We would settle ourselves in the same spots every time...grandpa would sit on his couch and mom and me on grandma's couch. Grandma, well, her place was in a small rocking chair positioned directly in front of the desk. It was just as though she was guarding the treasures inside.  Reaching into the desk drawers, stuffed with letters and bits of this and that; her hand would emerge with the most recent family news. Conversation would hush and we would wait expectantly. 

Grandma's voice filled the air. For me, this was comfort and connection. It was something that knit us all together and played a big part in shaping who I became and what I value in life. This routine repeated itself until Grandpa found his way to heaven and then Grandma, following just five months later. When it came time for their lives to finish, I discovered when it is someone you love, you are never ready, never happy, and never short on tears. And yet, I also discovered that every tradition, every memory, every sweet thing that transpired between you, lives on in your heart. Nothing is lost. As for me, I cherish the fact that I get to be part of a large loving family and the memories of letters with Grandma. 
  

Chicks, Clicks, And Sticks

Brightly painted nails to accent fashions;
new dresses in every size, shape, and hue. 
Continue on to complete the look; sparkles,
jeweled adornments woven into carefully 
coiffed tresses, appearing nonchalantly, 
as if the look came together out of the blue. 
We prepare for the occasion, parties of every
caliber across the nations.

Drinks in hand, gathered in chattering groups...gentlemen, ladies, dudes, and chicks in four to five person clicks. Let's step back and remember the motivation, the tradition, the absolute reason we pause to celebrate with brightly colored foil covered boxes, eggnog, and peppermint sticks. Shall we not embrace the love, the sacrifice, rather than actively ignore?

You can't escape it, this love He gave, it was, it is, 
for you specifically; the treasure of His heart. 
When He thinks of you, He calls you, "The one I adore."

The Silence In Between

The silence in between is a warm soft breeze for the soul. It happens every year. Thanksgiving has become a moment in your history and Christmas has not yet hit its full stride. 

Gap days build a bridge between the end of Thanksgiving and the beginning of the jingling bells. This space offers itself up as an opportunity to stop, pause, ponder, appreciate and truly drink in the atmosphere that creates your world. The most important elements in this atmosphere are the people you hold most dear. The in between is a time to see them and take hold of the gift most treasured.The in between silence is a gift to cherish and receive, not casually, but to fully embrace, like your favorite teddy bear or that rare box of chocolate that is not to be shared; it is yours alone.

Don't be fooled, it makes appearances throughout the year. The art is in recognizing it when it comes to visit. Vigilance is necessary, it will not announce itself. Cloaked in the every day in, out, up, down, happy, sad threads that weave the tapestry of our life together; it peeks around the corner. You will find it waiting on the front porch when you dare to sit with your hot tea and private thoughts. In the corner chair after the family is snuggled into bed and the novel you are in the middle of, calls your name. It presents itself when your five year old gets a cold and story books read together under the covers turn the afternoon into a forever memory. 

What about the glorious gift of two empty hours that were meant to be filled with appointments and are now free; they belong to you. Instead of rushing, doing twelve different errands, you find yourself on the beach and your toes in the sand. The in between silence pops up when you let the laundry wait a day and you find your husband, slip your hand into his and you allow silence to envelop the pair of you in a cocoon of comfortable, quieted togetherness. The silence is here and there; will you develop your skill into an art of recognition? Will you dare?

Thank You Thomas

Turkey, it gets a good deal of attention this time of year. Featured in stories, pageants, silly songs, craft projects executed by three year olds, endless advertisements from cars to mattresses.....and why? Well, because great, great, great, great, great, great Grandfather Tom lived in the woodland area, where on that day it seemed like a good idea to have turkey for dinner. Can't say I disagree, turkey is just good eatin'.  

I like the aftermath. After the knives, forks, spoons and plates, each dish and guest have been accounted for.......after the good byes have been said, and hugs exchanged with a kiss and a squeeze. 

After the midnight pie has been digested.....shhhh don't tell, 'cause let's face it....on no diet plan will you find that one suggested. Sleep comes.

The day after arrives, left overs burden the fridge.......A sign hangs in the kitchen:

 "Cook is gone to soak her feet." 

Now, I add up the ingredients of the aftermath:

Duty done...............................................X

Love bestowed....................................................X

Left overs consumed.......................................................X

                                         Reward Arrives

The day after, the day after; this is the day we have turkey tacos. From the time I was small, the day after, the day after I have enjoyed them all. I have one thing more, a great honor. A thank you I give in posterity most certain, in his day they long ago drew the curtain.

I am thankful for the day after the day after; it's all because of the original sacrifice of great, great, great, great, great, great Grandfather Tom.