My Christmas Wish or Something Like It...

It is that time of year where inevitably the conversation turns to what do you want for Christmas? My kids are getting older and gone are the days it seems of buying them toys that come in packaging that requires undoing umpteen twist ties, or loads of Lego blocks...
as I sat here contemplating I decided to write a poem...
I don't call myself a poet but it was fun to write...Enjoy!

I wish I could be more forgiving and forget once in a while
When I am irked I wish I could offer a sweet smile.
I wish I would remember to give thanks a little more
So that grumbling and complaining would slink right out the door.

I wish my hands would remain open, never clenched or holding tight
To worthless things and foolish pride that blind the truth from sight.
I wish I had the wisdom that you get from looking back
Before I made  my choices of choosing the 'wrong' track.

I wish everyone could have a good supper every night
And a home with loving parents who try to teach them right.
I wish that conflict and indifference would not tear love apart
But commitment would be stronger and would mend a broken heart.

So as I wish these wishes, I say a prayer for you
That you have peace and happiness in all that you hold true.
May each twist and turn on the earthly road you roam
Bring you ever nearer your heavenly home.


                               

           
               My newest infatuation....battery candles on a timer...love ~~~Lucy. 


  

A Mother's Prayer

When I was sorting through my scraps last week, I came across this prayer I had saved.

It is so beautiful, so here on the cusp of a brand new week I want to share it with you.

Lord, help me to give my children the best-not of things, but of myself, cherishing them on good days and bad, theirs and mine. Teach me to accept them for who they are, not just for what they do; to listen to what they say, if only so they'll listen to me;to encourage their goals, not mine. 

Let me give them a home where respect and  integrity are the cornerstones and there's enough happiness to raise the roof.

May I give them courage to be true to themselves; the independence to take care of them selves, and the faith to believe in You.

May I discipline them without demeaning them, demand good manners without forgetting my own, and let them know they have limitless love no matter what they do.

Let me feed them properly, clothe them adequately, and have enough to give them small allowances- not for the work they do but for the pleasure they bring. Let me moderate in all these things, so that the joy of getting will help them discover the joy of giving.

See that their responsibilities are real and not burdensome, that my expectations are high but not overwhelming, and that my praise is thoughtful and given when it is due.

Help me to teach them that excellence is work's real reward.

And when it comes - let me revel in each honour, how ever small, without once pretending that it's mine- my children are glories enough.

Above all, let me ground them so well in Your truth that I can let them go.

In Jesus name, Amen!

Small and Powerful

 

A thoughtful gesture is like that pool of sunshine on a drab November day.
 or a bird outside your window when hope seems far away....
 Isn't it true that gestures pack a punch when it comes to saying something with no words needed.

Take an open door for instance. I remember years back I was dropping by to visit a friend. She knew I was coming so as a welcoming gesture she had left the door ajar.
                     

 
This really made an impression on me, as it signified  so much more to the relationship than she  could know. This is something I have taken with me and I will often leave the door slightly open (weather providing of course) when I can. 
I especially like to do this when my kids are coming home from school. I hope it tells them; here you are always welcome. Come in, drop your baggage. You belong here, welcome home.
                                       
Other gestures that speak clearly is a simple smile. Not only is a smile relaxing  to the recipient, the benefactor is blessed.                                                                         

Listening with sincerity is another gesture I am aiming to claim. Too often it is easy to be thinking of what I would like to add instead of giving the speaker my undivided attention.
It really does make someone feel valued when we care enough to care about what they are telling us!

A touch is also such a meaningful way of blessing another soul. 
Simply a hand on an arm or shoulder with a word in passing can convey care and empathy.

The power in a gesture. Though small is ever so mighty! 
Go ahead and use whatever gesture you can to make a  positive difference to someone.
It may just change their world for the better.


                                                               

Beautiful Scraps

Last evening I was leafing through my scrap book. The one that is literally still scraps, not a book. Over the years I've cut out articles from the paper and special poems  I enjoyed and put them in here to glue eventually.
                                                                                 

                         

 As I read a few articles and recalled favourite newspaper columnists that have since stopped writing, my eyes fell on this obituary... 
I picked it up to read and realized this happened one year ago.
I talked about it here...                                                    

Remembering... remembering that's all I can do.
as if somehow I can bring her back 
here to this humble sod. 
I cradle bitter sweet memories,
Because now she belongs to God.L~M








I know this is a sad post. but I wanted to share because it got me thinking that life can feel alot like my scrap book ...sometimes I feel like all I have is scraps. Odds and ends and pieces, nothing to big or important. Just a motley array of this and that.
  In the end though when I am done here,  nothing will matter but how I lived my life and WHO I was living  for. I needed to be reminded of this once again.

                     please listen to this beautiful song talking about this...

Rippling Smooth

                                                     lake photos taken this summer

The waves have splashed  the rocks until they are  sanded smooth.

 Smooth like a glass lake face.

So perfectly smooth it's depths hidden from the casual observer.

I ponder what is beneath it's surface that is serene and exudes calm.

I come to experience and learn from smooth.
The gritty every day grind needs a reprieve and it is found in placid waters and rocky shores.

It is found in quiet beauty and  
and contemplation.
It is found where reflections and reality recede and we are still.
                    
                                                             

Now I make beds and smooth wrinkles from sheets.
I feel like in some  minuscule but profound way  I am making a difference.
 I pray for my children who sleep  here beneath the blankets I try to smooth daily, as I smooth these sheets and tuck in corners
I cover each one with my prayers,and I know they will be okay.

                                                                

                       May the rough things in life make them smooth, 
            May the bumpy roads lead them to a place where desire and destiny are one.
                     and
                 May their hearts know the Peace that passes all understanding.


wrote this last week, prompted by the http://writealm.com/texture
writing prompts.


yes, I am one of 'those mother's' who usually makes her kids beds. Not always, but I like too as I use this time  to pray for them.

My Garden Shed In Repose

             I did the final clean up of my yard and garden last week...
                                   

   

 inside my 'tool shed'...

Who knew there were so many nick knacks to put away.
I guess I don't add everything at once, but over time.
                                                                        

                     I wait until the bitter end to empty the garden though,
                           as if this somehow will extend the season.
                                                             

     what a mess...some day this could be a studio or pretty shed...some day!

                                                                 

 

                                                                             

 I look back for a minute before I close the door. I wonder what may or may not transpire by the time I open this door to begin rooting for tools,pots and paraphernalia  to reinspire. 


                                    

                    Now all this is tired in every sense of the word.
                                 except for what remains..
                           A winter's nap sounds like a great idea....

just in time too...
                          (photo taken last week.)there is a few days of 'nice weather'in the                                                                                                      forecast  before we're back to cold.

How Could I think I Didn't 'Have Time'

 Today was Remembrance Day in Canada. The day we remember those who fought for our 'freedom.'

The following is my thoughts from the ceremony I attended which I have done with 'our school' for the last number of years......

                            

       The wind and sleet whip and pelt my face as I leave the warmth of my vehicle. I match my stride  with it's briskness.

In the distance I hear the reverberating  beat of the marching band and the sound of the bagpipes echoes with a sense of devout urgency.

I pick up my pace more and find a spot at the back of the crowd that has gathered for this solemn occasion.

The procession is making it's way through, stopping to receive orders and salute the general.   

I have shivers all the way down my back- and it isn't from the cold.

The ceremony begins. There is prayer. Beautiful prayers with words I wish I could write down.Prayers for freedom that was fought for, and freedom that we are still fighting for.

 There is scripture. 

An excerpt from Anne Frank's journal is shared.

 There is tributes to the deceased. Names are read.

Tears trickle with the rain drops.

 Two people sing a beautiful rendition of In Flanders Fields.

The wreaths are laid. The band plays Amazing Grace.

                                  

I am moved. I am moved not only by the solemnity of this occasion, 
but by the smallness of my every day concerns; like cold fingers and toes and bills, and what to make for supper. 

By the how and when of my day, and the things I fret about.

 Overwhelming gratitude flows for these trivialities and trials that make up my world and my life. I vow once again  to never take for granted the peace and hard fought freedom I have. 

                                       

            And I almost thought I 'didn't have time....' to come today....


                         I find the message in the following song incredibly powerful...

                                     

             

A Treat To Read

If books were desserts this book would be a truly,decadent one.
One of those high calorie treats that need to be savoured in small mouth fulls.
A rich, rare wonder of words, that leave me satisfied but craving more.

the author Karen Swallow Prior is delving deeper into some of the classic books, some of which I've read and some of which I want to after hearing her describe her own experience with them.
In chapter two Karen talks about the power of words, drawing her conclusions from E B White's Charlotte's Web.
I Loved what she says here...
To choose a good word, to assign the right name, to arrange proper words in the best order;these are no easy tasks. Such work requires the creative power, the brooding,the birth pangs of a mother.
Names, words and language;they shape and create our souls the way a mother's body shapes and creates our bodies. We describe the country of our origin as our fatherland, but our language we call our mother tongue. Indeed the words that often wield the greatest power in and over our lives are those spoken by our mothers, from our names, to words of encouragement, to words that shape and define our character,words of truth spoken in love. This power of words is akin to the creative, nurturing role a mother plays in our lives.


Farther along in chapter 6, she is  setting the scene in Tess of the D'Urbervilles.Here is a few lines that jumped off the page for me...
Life, like a great book is complicated. People, like the best fictional characters, are complex.
Human complexity is what makes understanding human beings, whether real or fictional, so difficult at times; empathy with good but imperfect characters, or real people, isn't always easy.Our prejudices,preferences,and ideals blind us from seeing others as they are. in our blindness, we recreate people---- and even ourselves---in our own image. and later on..
Human blindness to Providence does not mean there is no design. And often, not always, but more often than not---time removes man's blinders to reveal the design behind things that appear at first to have no rhyme or reason.
Yes, I think to myself...Yes her words so moving, her insight so profound.

That is some of the book which I am halfway through and like a dessert full of mouth watering flavours I must stop and digest between long swallows of coffee and look forward to the next bite.

                   
                  Have you been reading any interesting books lately?

A Handy Silver Plate

                 I rearranged a cupboard a few weeks ago and try as I might,
                           I could not find a spot for this old, silver plate.

    no room here...
                                      

or here,

or down here,

 for lack of a better place it ended up in the middle of the table...  
                  where last week it held sweet treats...

and also these scrumptious oatmeal apple butter cookies...

good any time of the day ...

or a new fruit bowl per say...

          Sometimes I banish things, thoughts or ideas  because they seem too odd or too ordinary, when like this plate maybe they are simply waiting to be discovered and given a chance at the beauty of usefulness. 

  climbing back on the gratitude wagon...
daughter adjusting well to life in the city.
Jasmine bravely trying out for solo part
that fix little kids have...when I help at school and the two that come here after...
listening to my youngest two talk...about life/school/friends in the dark van on the way home from Target
after school job for son
letters in the mail
dates on the calendar
hubby still riding motor cycle to work
new tree planted
Christian radio

May you have a day full of  beauty and usefulness.


            

Full Circle Zinnias

                      Recently my sister -in- law  gave me these zinnia seeds.
                                                 

            

I had admired her row of colourful zinnia faces when we were there  in the summer time. 

                                                                                                                     

So she picked some of the heads gone to seed to plant next year.

I thanked her, and asked if she wanted me to pay her, she laughed and said "no, these seeds likely came from some that you had given me years ago."

Isn't that neat,I think to myself...after all these years and the zinnias simply grow, bloom, rest.  Grow,bloom,rest.
A relentless life circle of dying in order to propagate and produce. 


Relentless,yes it really does feel that way. We put down seeds whether literally or figuratively. We can never be fully prepared for the prudence required in maintaining the seeds. Some years there seems to be little for the labour we've extended.
 It feels unfair at times, for other people's gardens    are flourishing, and we think we've toiled longer and harder than they have.


I sift the zinnia seeds through  my fingers, the ones she said likely came from me.
I breathe a prayer for seeds I've sown, ones I am waiting on to take root, ones I know are there, but need time and the seasons elements to condition and strengthen.

        I must be patient and always hopeful for next years garden.

                         

 Let us not grow weary in doing good,
                for in due season we shall reap,
                          if we do not give up.  Galatians 6:9