A Mom

high angle photo of woman on ladder

Photo by Samantha Garrote 

A mother is a 100 percent flawed human being who was allowed to have part in a unique way in another human beings life. Not every mom loved it, wanted it or succeeded at it. Some moms are sick. Some moms are wounded or abused. Some are driven by a secret or a demon. Some dreamed of being moms since they could talk, others did not. Some are natural at it (whatever that means). Some of us live, eat, and breathe it. Some of us enjoy every moment except maybe the fatigue! Some are fulfilled. Some are not. Some of us fail (ed) at it. Some are not biological Moms but are mothering anyway.


The Truth is most of us didn’t know what we were in for. For me being mom was more than I ever dreamed. It set me “right”. It makes me want to be a better person than I am. Motherhood gives me unspeakable joy and to be honest when it hurts it is the most painful experience. This holiday called Mother’s Day is not good or bad. It is a societal invention. That’s okay. If you are a mom this holiday and you enjoy it that is honorable. If this day brings you pain or grief this is honorable as well. We all must make our peace with our moms and with our children. Moms count in the billions. Moms are not a political agenda or a consumer product. Moms are people who love and want to be loved and fail or succeed depending upon the day or the moment of any given day. I am in the club. I wouldn’t change that. I have no regrets. To all the moms out there…let’s be kind to each other.

Words on paper with ink

blank bouquet card color

Photo by Pixabay

I cannot keep trying to impress you

or manipulate what you  think of me

it matters very little in the Truth of my identity.

 

To anticipate if  you to like my verse

or if you’ll sing my tune or see my worth

all is Vanity  and Vanity is a curse.

 

To know a person one must be true it is said

So do what you will and think what you think

It is only just words on paper with ink.

 

Scatters Like a Cloud

 

photo of heart shaped balloon

Photo by Andreas Wohlfahrt

Like a cloud scattered by a strong wind

All illusions of security have blown away

So now I must stand on the Faith I have professed

In The One that keeps me in his sight!

 

All illusions of control are laid bare

Idols crumble like sand castles in the air

Gratitude has pierced my soul

It leads me to The Cross of His might!

 

Palms up, letting go, cleaning the house of my soul

Rhetoric and cliches must be purged in the clutter

Returning to the purity of being His Child

I still Trust in Him,  the Lover of my soul, who has already won this fight!

 

A Little Girl Who Loves Books

book girl grass hat

Photo by Pixabay 

 

The Cheshire Cat’s moonshine smiles white.

The Hobbit’s Shire sends  a woodsmoked sunrise.

The Midnight Cowgirl still rides wild and high.

Treasure Island’s  grand Osprey weaves and glides.

The great Lion Aslan’s shadow still comforts me.

The Little Women sisters all still speak to me.

All these childhood stories are pages in my mind.

A little girl who loves books still lives inside.

The Shell Seeker

 

 

brown sand

Photo by Miri

Standing on the highest sand dune people moved back and forth on the ground below.  She no longer has their youthfulness of an unlined face but she knew she finally possessed the joy of ageless Grace. The pilgrimage called her to this beautiful place. The wind and the sun an old friend on her face.

Now she is the shell seeker in the wide brimmed hat, as a child playing in the sun she’d laughed at people like that. She remembers younger  days when she grew weary but now the days of peace are what linger here.  Emotions don’t obey the rules they are the heartbeat in being human.  Like waves reaching the shore emotions can be kept for a moment but are better when given away.

The shell seeker’ s eye remains clear and adept while watching the children play. She knows that life is not going back but more of giving it away. The Truth is, life consists in learning and loving well with Grace underneath God’s sun.  To remain whole in the midst of life’s ups and downs, to surrender all secrets and lies is anointing oil to the soul. To shed insincerity and live in the present, the waves echo behind her now compelling her to go on.

Nothing about Love is passive…

purple flowers

Photo by Nadi Lindsay

 

Wisteria vines will grow on walls, over other plants  and  along the weathered splintered gray fence that is long forgotten. The vine of Wisteria is thick and knarled and strong…

The fragrance of the low hanging purple clumps of flowers permeated the bright spring day and it made her feel lightness in her heart that she had not experienced in a long while. She thought about how precious her memories of first love are. There in lies the treasure. It is in the pleasure and the pain…if you allow it,  first love leads to the Truth that we know nothing much of love.

She is older now and reflects back often on what she thought love was as a young woman or rather perhaps she was simply in love with what she thought love was. She loved but then she lived. In that living she learned that love is tough as nails. Love is knarled like the Wisteria vine. Love will grow over barriers and around obstacles still blooming and still fragrant. Love is having the strength to stay. Love is a wild and furious risk, a pouring out of all that one can from that cup and drink it. Love is rich and poor. Love is sickness and health. Love is a verb, an action word. Nothing about love is passive. Love cannot be manipulated. Love. Risks. Everything. The Holy God is Love’s name…ponder this, ponder Him…you will find Him because Love never quits and perfect Love cast out all fear and Love never ever fails.

 

 

 

Desert Place

 

 

person in desert

Photo by Joel Friend

 

 

When this young prodigal daughter wandered

It was not because You, O God changed in time. 

You O blessed Savior still sought the one and left the ninety-nine.

 

I could not outrun your Grace even in the valley of the shadow,

I kept seeing your face in my disgrace and sorrow.

You said, “I have already won the battle”

 

As I lay deserted there I heard you call me Friend. .

Dying within an inch of my life I thought you must be a dream

But you Lord whispered “everyone needs to learn, from a desert comes a stream.”

A Chat

pexels-photo-2079451

 

I think if you were here right now we’d sit and talk about the different shades of doubt.
You would smile at my gray hair and the way things are while you sit in your old easy char…

You wouldn’t like the new technology.
It’s like Alice through the Looking Glass and all the white knights are talking backwards.
You would say, “this too shall pass.”

I miss seeing you on a Sunday and the joy you always brought to me.
Your love for us was deep and fierce, the best of your heart is what I miss…

I think if you were here right now we’d sit and talk about how it use to be.
You’d smile and say, “it’ll be alright…” while you sit in your old easy char.

That Time

tiny pieces of broken glass in grayscale photography

Photo by Lehel Mozgai 

 

That time you sat in the park watching the lavender sky at dawn is long gone

You said, “Everybody had to be, had to get somewhere…”

That time when you burned your house down with your own two hands

so busy advancing you lost what got you there…

You broke the glass ceiling but who really cares

Now everybody has nowhere to be and you are alone.

The love of a family the loyalty of a friend.

The road less traveled is somewhere you’ve never been.