Category: Family

Relationships, children, and the dynamics between family members.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa

Jeanne 1 Comment

Oh NO! I forgot to post on Monday! However, I doubt any of you are too stressed about it, right? It’s Bob’s birthday today, and I’ve had jury duty, blah, blah, blah. Sorry. So, today our Grand daughter made him a birthday card, and that’s going to be the post for the week. Happy Birthday, Bob!

Grandpa is so nice and kind,
With an open heart and mind,
Kindness and creativity shown,
Like the colors of the rainbow.

You are cool. You are fun. You are unique. You are grateful. You are wise. You are creative. You are faithful. You are compassionate. YOU ARE GRANDPA!

IMG_4192

Little One

Jeanne 1 Comment

Last week our little family managed to all take off time together. We descended upon Bear Lake, where we had rented a lakefront lodge. The grand kids were absolutely delightful–most of the time. I feel so very blessed to have 3 extra ordinary children, with 3 equally appealing spouses; and 6 delightful grand kids. Jimmy, Jetta and I flew kites even though there was no wind. Parleigh and Ammon learned to play pool. Asa walked around and looked adorable in his new hat, while Allie-Mae toddled about destroying anything in her path.

Little one, your life began long before your birth.
Little one, your spirit lived and planned to come to earth.
Perhaps you even saw your home, or chose your family,
But now you’re here, and memory fades, the past you cannot see.

The sweetness of your spirit there; it glows now in your face.
Your innocence in this strange world now seems so out of place.
And surely those you knew before were sad to see you part,
But let you go with tears of joy to finally have a start.

Do you often feel afraid, and ever all alone?
I guess this place where you’ve been sent, doesn’t seem like home.
But when you stay, you’ll come to know, you have no need to fear.
We can find the peace and love of heav’n and bring it here.

I feel so humbled when I think that you’ve been sent to me.
I don’t know how to show my love like parents heavenly.
I know I cannot take their place, but if I try and pray,
I’ll keep your spirit sweet and pure so you’ll return someday.

IMG_3540

A Love Poem

Jeanne 1 Comment

julie & JeanneSometimes I think it’s just not fair,

That I am here and you are there.

The way I’d like the day to be,

Is always have you here with me.

Then I could hug you all the day,

And always have the chance to say,

I Love You.

Humor

Jeanne 4 Comments

Humor is a two-way street; it leads both up and down.
A small child’s smile can lift us up; each babe is Heaven’s clown.
When we laugh at others and make fun of who they are,
Bad humor hurts and cripples, and can leave a hidden scar.

Our Lord has much good humor. Creation has it’s clowns,
From kittens, pups, to elephant calves, come cute and joyful sounds.
From otter pups to monkeys, in young life, good humor rings.
God sows joyous laughter through summer unto spring.

Some souls are hurt through life and their souls grow blind and cold.
Each heartache, pain and sorrow can make our souls feel old.
We lose our ability to see the simple joys in life.
Our souls become cankered with anger, self-pity and strife.

We choose the path of humor, laughter, love and joy.
We use forgiveness and repentance so Satan can’t destroy
Our ability to see the beauty that flows through each new day.
Good humor is the result of living life in God’s eternal way.

IMG_4107

 

Give Them Wi ngs

Jeanne 3 Comments

Yesterday the whole family gathered at my house for a Mother’s Day lunch. We’ve done this every year for many years, and it is sobering to see how time creeps up on you. It used to be that my children gave me gifts, but now it’s my children and the grand kids too, and I have a few more wrinkles and aches and pains. But what I noticed most about yesterday was how BIG those little grand kids are getting. Ammon, the oldest, now wears a size 11 men’s shoe! Even the 4,5 and 6 year olds are looking grown up. I can’t decide if time is my enemy or my friend.

When you were born
And I held you close,
So helpless and little.
And I was glad I was your Mother.
I protected and fed,
And cleaned you.
And rocked you.

And you grew.

When you were little,
And home all day,
And running around
Underfoot all the time,
I was so glad I was your Mother.
We played and we read.
We walked and we talked.

And you grew.

When you were in school,
And gone some of the time.
You made friends of your own.
And played your own games.
I helped you with homework.
I washed and I cleaned.
I counseled and worried.

And you grew.

You stand at the threshold
Where I once stood,
With your back to our home,
And the world in your face.
And I’m glad I’m your Mother.

I will miss you and wish
You were back home again.
But still I will help you
Fashion the best wings I can make
As you fly away from me.

pet3

My Dearest One

Jeanne 1 Comment

My dearest one is the one
That gave me life of herself.
Always helping through my childhood,
Hardly thinking of herself.
I love her as much as living,
More that silver, more than gold.
For she’s a part of me,
A part which will never be sold.
I guess everyone has a mother,
Though some lose her at birth.
So I’m giving to you, what she means to me,
The most beautiful person on earth.

IMG_7216

I Recall A Mother’s Day

Jeanne 4 Comments

I recall a Mother’s Day,
Seems ages past though scarcely ten,
When silence echoed in the quiet nursery,
Void of any cry or call for Mama.
And any infant I should see, was not my own,
Who recently had come and quickly gone.

The long-stemmed rose–the gift,
A token of Motherhood
Was mockery to my being
Who aspired to the grandest height of all–Mother.

But lo, the years produced the child my heart desired.
And now I see within the rosebush
The new-formed dewy buds,
And overlook the thorn
That seemed so sharp and painful
On other days like this.

With house and arms and thoughts no longer empty,
There is a deluge of the once longed for dependent cries of “Mama!”

And now the garden rose I see as me,
With room to grow and flourish,
And send its roots deep into the soil
To stand amid the worldly blasts,
And turn toward the sun
To drink the heaven-sent strength
To make me equal to the title–Mama.

IMG_059-2

What Is Success?

Jeanne 4 Comments

If my children can say, at the end of the day,
“I’m happy, I feel good about me.”
If as the sun disappears in the western sky,
I can lay aside tasks for a lullaby.
If during the midst of a busy day,
I stop for some nonsense, childlike play,
I have learned that the tasks of the family are best,
I will have found what I call success.

IMG_1215

I Need a Laugh

Jeanne 4 Comments

I am feeling tons of stress this morning. I need a laugh. Sick grand kids. Upcoming surgeries. I searched the pages of our poems to find one to lighten my mood, and this one made me laugh. Oh, the simple things in life can bring us so much joy; like poking a fire with sticks!

We drove down a freeway, then we passed through the towns.
We bumped on a dirt road and bounced up and down.
We came around the corner and we first saw the spot:
Trees, grasses, flowers–growing on the lot.

We’d never seen the place before. We feared what it might be.
But when we saw the beauty there, it filled us all with glee.
The cabin was so cozy, and cute as it could be.
The bunkhouse gave the boys room to make them wild and free.

Bobby saw a deer, and Eva spied a squirrel.
Valoree found a hummingbird. She’s such a clever girl.
She tracked it flying up and down and even east and west.
And then she saw it going home and plopping in it’s nest.

We took a walk across the bridge and found a grassy spot.
Bob took a drive, and with a pole, the fish were caught.
We lit a fire and then we poked in it with sticks.
We walked around and came back and checked ourselves for ticks.

IMG_4555

The Song

Jeanne 3 Comments

The fleeting song was being passed from anxious heart to pen,
But the solitude was invaded when chubby hands pressed in.
My thoughts were lost by curious whys. Muffled chords were all I heard.
My toddler needed drinks and demanded an approving word.
And, in the end, I’m sad to say, the song was gone–unwritten and forgotten.
I felt a loss, as of a parting friend who gives no promise of return.
Perhaps the time just isn’t now for serene creative days.
No time to shape the feelings into prose or song today.
For now’s the time for gathering and storing feelings in the heart.
The day will come when silent days will release the pent up song with uninterrupted art.
And I will talk of days gone by and wish for chubby hands now gone,
And miss the constant whys and wheres that often stopped my song.
Oh may I see the season now as one for storing in
A fleeting thought, a look, or a mischievious grin,
That when the season comes to share
There may be something there.
IMG_2459