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Showing posts from September, 2012

I'm famous! (and so are you)

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"Mommy?"

I glance down to see Ella lost in a sea of miniature dolls scattered all around her.

 "Mommy!  Look at my Polly Pocket, she's famous!"  The adoration lifts her voice, and I ponder words.

"Why?"  I ask as I look down at the figure crowned with perfect blonde hair and eyes painted lavender.  A sparkle is placed just off center.  "What has made her famous?"

"Look at her Mommy.  She's pretty."  Ella smiles that toothless smile right at the object in her hand with her own blonde hair hanging loose over her sweet face.


Words catch in my throat.  I'm surprised that it has happened already.  That she has gone the way of the world in handing out the yes and no of who has what it takes to be famous.   I had hoped that I could help her see the root of what makes us all beautiful. 

I know so well how one must unlearn what is being taught in this culture.  That perfect is normal, and the way we must get there is through the w…

My daughter lovely

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Did you know I had never desired to birth a girl child?

It was after the first one slept silent in that secret place that I knew it didn't matter.  When the heart aches loss and arms hang empty there's only desperate desire to hold onto the hand of any waking child.


You came into my world with a quiet cry, wet and vernix covered.  I had only breathed your name before you were placed on my chest and rubbed right pink.  You nuzzled your damp head right into me with your mouth stretched wide like a hungry little bird opening its beak for the worm.

I wrapped you tight and cradled you whole in thankful arms.  There was barely enough room for all the wonder you birthed in me.  I wanted to keep you there, close to that heart that pounded out your life song.



Under blankets of stars I sang into you rhythms of being all my sunshine, and in time I saw the light that you were created to shine.  That's when a mama begins to wonder how her little girl manages to swallow the sun in eight…

Nature sings

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She heard the voices of the trees Swaying arms swept wide by breeze Turning blades over the meadow Brushing yellow folded leaves Nature's song sang to her wonder A tune she held within to ponder Feeling sweet the breath of autumn Knowing that it breathed beyond her Sweeping out the present worry A lightened heart rose high with fury Soaring on this cleansing wind With ne'er a thought nor want to hurry There the rays swept golden, shining Breaking through the clouds soft lining Lighting up her face so thankful All is well in His own timing.

Love is bending

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Real love is patient and it is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It bends its humble knees in service to the object of its knowing, and the very best love is never held close but laid down where is has all this beautiful space to grow.



Their youth didn't know much of this love, but they said yes to a lifetime of figuring it out in 1969.

Time has a way of teaching if we are willing to wait, if we are willing to bend.

The good and bad of days fell away but they were faithful to love and to honor from that day forward.  The sun would rise and the sun would fall and each gifted day was cherished.  They could hardly believe that ten years had been lived out right.  Then twenty.  Thirty.  Forty and three.




 They held them all, these passing times, as they held onto each other.  They held their children four times over bending low moment into moment to show them all what love really means.


Thousands of suns later brings a day when the white coats enter the smal…

Saying yes

I push the large cart through aisles of organization.  Perfect rows of order laugh right out from their space as if they know I am anything but, and I wonder if it is always so obvious that I don't have it all together.  My girls meander behind me as we hunt for school supplies, and we are not finding the necessaries.

Frustration fans flames and I reprimand myself for waiting until the last minute just for a good deal.  I scold them for being kids, and soon the whole store is feeling hot.

The littlest one skips away on a new adventure and returns with the plastic version of a grocery cart.  She happily pushes it alongside me, and I sigh that heated plea.

"We are not buying that!  Put it back."

She continues her walk oblivious to my lack of control of all this life lived right here in the open.

I pause and look around before I follow.  I think I hear a voice calling me, but no one is there.

I take a few steps more then stop again to see a lady smiling at me.  I return the…