When Winter is No More

To offer pieces of one’s own heart
To mend another’s
As waves rise
And crash endlessly
On the shore of…
Sunrise, sunset
When day breaks dawn
When dusk descends
Laughter, tears
Memories forsaken
Allowing a moment to find oneself
Among the rubble
Thorns, thistle
Under drizzling rain
Then tempest
What may calm such relentless rage?
Selfless love, forgiveness, time
Long suffering
A broken heart
Desperate for mending
For so long…
Deep the wound
Loves lost is not forgotten
A covenant made
Should not be broken
Yet we wait, we pray
We long for, we cry out
When will the storm cease?
When day breaks dawn
When dusk descends
When winter is no more

A Crack in the Window

I stay quiet, calm
Amidst a torrential storm
That has no end in sight
A relentless force
That torments me
When I allow it
But fallen, I am
Strong sometimes
I am not
So I wait, I pray, I cry
Until day breaks the darkness
And I see a glimpse of light
Through a crack in the window
Of darkened glass
I can barely see
But I feel its warmth
If only briefly
And it beckons me
To never give in
To the darkness
To believe in the hope
That cannot yet be seen
That I look forward to
That I cling to
In the darkest of nights
That I will see

Grandma’s Rosary

On Saturday nights, I remember sleepovers at grandma and grandpa’s house. The thought always brings happy memories of love, laughter, food and grandma’s faith.   Grandpa would be sitting in his recliner, catty-cornered to the very large piece of furniture called the television, tinkering with the clock that continued to stop ticking. Grandma would be busy in the kitchen creating another yummy Italian meal for us. My mouth starts to salivate just thinking about it.  The sweet aroma of tomatoes and basil simmering, pasta bubbling and fresh Italian bread on the table set beautifully for grandpa and me ~ grandma’s love shown through the simple efforts of life.

After dinner, we would watch Wheel of Fortune or play cards. Grandpa would have to give up Grandma for the night because she would sleep in the living room with me on the pullout couch. I can’t remember why. I don’t remember being scared, but maybe I was. Or it was just grandma making sure I felt safe, warm and not alone without me having to ask.

As I lay there next to grandma, I would hear her whisper something over and over again. I could barely understand what she was saying, so one night I asked what she was doing? She quietly explained her rosary prayers and said one of them out to me. She asked me to try to say it with her. I tried a few times clumsily. She smiled then turned over continuing on. As I listened, I could see her left arm draped along her side with her finger and thumb moving from one rosary bead to the next as she prayed. Not a night would go by without every prayer spoken. It was my lullaby to sleep; her prayers became my prayers to a God I did not know quite yet.

This simple, faithful act drew my heart to God. It was an act of love, worship and reverence that inspired me to believe in someone bigger than myself. Little did Grandma know the impact she had.

So much of what we say is lost on the ears that hear them, but it is what we do for others that is so powerful. Actions breathe words we cannot speak and allows the expression of our hearts to be revealed. Caring for encourages and inspires. It is love all wrapped up in a short sassy grandma who was an extension of God’s love guiding me step by step from who I was yesterday, to who I am today and who I will become tomorrow.

The Power of a Best Friend

There are moments in all of our lives, when we are at our lowest. We never know when these moments will happen, but they inevitably do and sometimes at the worst time. When we have cried all the tears we can and asked why and prayed again and again and still feel no relief, see no light at the end of the tunnel and have lost all hope. It is in these moments, when the power of a best friend shines it’s brightest over our life. When we don’t have the strength to stand, they reach down and lift us to our feet. They open their heart and minister to us in a way unlike any other that runs so deep, it touches our soul and we feel its warmth and are drawn out of the darkness and into the light of hope again. And little by little, we begin to heal as they remind us of all the good and not to dwell on the bad or the sadness of our circumstance. They remind us that we are not alone and we are loved. We can and will get through this with them beside us all the way. And we remember that the sun will rise again, the laughter will return, maybe not today, but definitely in the future and we begin to heal again. This is the power of a best friend.


A mother listens not only when she wants to,
But when she needs to
She gives others her best
And the best of everything
That is who she is
What she is
She does not seek celebrity
Just peace in her home, family, friends

She is peace
Not just from war
But monsters in the night
And bee stings
Bumps on the knee
She loves spherically
Cares deeply
She spreads her wings far and wide
Then closes them in tightly
Protecting all within her reach
Constant in prayer
Loud whispers
She speaks

The remorse of few

And though I see light colored dimly
In the corner of my mind
I feel the embrace of many
The remorse of few
The fragrance of liberty
The flight of freedom
In a world of princes and presidents
Democracy and communism
Love and hate
Pride and prejudice
Orphans and widows
I still feel its warmth
The calling of lovebirds
The spirit, a song
And I look to the light
In the corner of my mind
And recall the goodness of life
Wrapped around the love of many
The remorse of few

A seed of love

True healing begins from within.
A recognition of need of change
in one’s own acts or attitudes,
thoughts or beliefs.
It begins with a seed of love
and waterfall of forgiveness.

By Still Waters

By still waters I stand
And gaze over the landscape
Of my life
I see the hills and valleys
Peaks and the lowest of the low
I see dreams fulfilled
Dreams left behind
Dreams yet to come
I let the seasons of time
Wash over my soul
Like ageless whispers
Of paths walked and yet to be tread
I look towards the light of the horizon
And imagine sunsets and sunrises to come
I live and breathe in my destiny
Driven by a heart that longs to
By still waters

It just is

What has changed me – pain
What heals me – tears, prayers, family, friends,
But, as with some things, this will never fully heal until Heaven
And that’s just the way it is
Whether wrong or right
It sometimes just is
And nothing can change what has happened
What has been done
What words have been said
You wish it could be different
That whatever happened can be taken back
But can’t
It just is
And it leaves a hole in your heart
Where happiness once was
Sadness remains
And you try to heal, to forget, to forgive
To live as though it never happened
To hope that happiness can fill
Where sadness dwells
But like I said before

It just is

Along the Way

To be gentle
And listen before speaking
To allow the air to breathe
Then listen again
To reach out without words
Rather in thought, in emotion
Between what could have been said
And what should have
or shouldn’t
The opening of one’s heart
One’s soul
Must be lovingly cradled
and brought to the edge of a brook
To drink fresh water
To rest and refresh
To restore
And find the peace
Once lost
Along the way

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