Two Worn Out Shoes

Well, from the number of comments we’ve received, I assume that no one is reading. If I’m wrong, please send a comment. Hello, out there? Anyway, I’ve been thinking about how nice it is to have a buddy. Bob is my buddy. I found this poem I penned about 10 years ago. Read it and tell me about your buddy.

You and me, two worn out shoes
Treks and trips, we’ve had a few,
And when times come I need to choose,
Above all else, I choose you.

High fashion never was our lot.
We scrimped and saved and never bought
The things most other people sought.
Yet we were rich, or so we thought.

We worked and sweat to build a home.
Your Uncle Bob–Farm Home Loan.
Year after year, stone upon stone,
A place where all would love to come.

Memories along the way
Explored new roads day after day.
Some places near, some far away.
We made good times at each new stay.

Our lives, they changed once Aaron came.
New days ahead, and yet the same.
Then Val and Eve joined in the game.
Each brought us joy and also pain.

From coast to coast, across the land
You’ve basked with me in forests grand.
And walked along the shores of sand.
In heaven too, you’ll have my hand!

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Heaven’s Harmony

Last Friday we drove our grand kids up to Twin Falls, Idaho, where they have purchased a home, and will be living, far far away from me. I have been feeling the separation. Seems as if I have a paper bag over my head. I can’t see and I can’t breathe. I want to reach out and touch them. I want to know what they are doing right now. I want to know if they are OK. It hurts, and I constantly pray for strength to face each day. That’s why I posted nothing on Monday. Too busy getting their old house ready to sell. Garbage, cleaning, and organizing.

While we were up in Idaho, I taught my grand kids a song that I wrote more than 30 years ago. It was written when we moved into this house. I had great hopes and aspirations for our home to be a bit of heaven on earth. I want their home to be heaven on earth too.

Within these walls lies heaven’s harmony.
Behind these doors grows love in plenty.
Under our roof there’s peace all around.
Our home is where true happiness is found.

At home we practice sharing happily.
We care for all our blessings thankfully.
And think of others, often, lovingly.
Our home’s a bit of heaven’s harmony.

Our house, our house, God bless our home
With safety, peace and love.
Our house, our house, God bless our home
With Thy sweet spirit from above.

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Memories

These last few weeks have been very stressful to me. My son and family, who live 1.5 miles away, are moving out of state…probably next week. Buying and selling homes should not be this hard, complicated, or frustrating. The closing date keeps shifting, and requirements keep popping up. I like to feel in control. I find security in that, and when events cannot be planned, it explodes my brain and clicks on the ‘worry’ switch. I really do hope that someday I will look back on this time and tell myself that there was no reason to fret. Then there is the component of missing the grand kids, who I now see on a daily basis. Put all that into a pot, and I’m a bundle of stress. I really do need to make each encounter/visit meaningful, not just because they’re leaving, but to make it a part of what I do all the time. Make memories.

The things we do together
Store memories in the heart
Remaining there to be
Called up when we’re apart.
To remind us of the
Love we shared
In days now in our past.
They weld our love together
With a bond to always last.

Tell me what you do to keep in touch with loved ones, especially the little ones.

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The Bear Lake Monster

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I know that we said we’d post a poem every Monday, but. Today I’m going to vary from that and tell a story that accompanies my newest painting entitled “The Bear Lake Monster”. My grand kids have repeatedly asked me about the Bear Lake Monster because I grew up there and spent much time at the beach. When I tell them that I’ve never seen it, they press me for my opinion about it’s appearance. Well, let’s put the question to rest:

The last rays of the sun had just disappeared from the rolling mountains that form the border on the east side of Bear Lake. It was a refreshingly cool summer evening, the first night at the Lakeside Lodge. Everyone had come to a family get-together: Grandma & Grandpa & their 3 children and spouses & 6 grand kids. The day was mostly spent unpacking and exploring the cabin and surrounding lake property. There had even been an excursion to North Beach with sun, waves and lots of sand (much of which made it’s way back to the cabin.) The littlest ones were now being bathed to remove it from their feet. Grandma was cleaning up the dishes and food in the kitchen. Others had gathered in the family room with immense windows facing the lake. As evening drew near, the blinds were lowered, creating a cozy den that now hosted much conversation, frivolity, and silliness.

Two small ones, still awaiting their bath time, had escaped to the yard and were trampling about on the wooden pier, feeling like conquerors of the lake and all surrounding area. In the stillness of the lake, one pointed out the large ripple passing by a short distance out.

Without warning, and silently, except for the sudden splash of waves, the ripple rose from the lake in all it’s immensity, revealing, in it’s wake a huge, fin-backed, blue-purple-silver shimmering monster, who had stopped in it’s powerful swim, planted all four legs in the lake, and with purpose and intent, turned it’s head to stare directly at the two children, now frozen on the end of the pier. For a moment, the beast was motionless and although it’s eyes were yellow, large, and piercing, the stare was not threatening, just a quiet, curious glance at the two figures. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it submerged itself and continued swimming northward, it’s sturdy fin slowly disappearing in the distance.

The two were wordless for just a few seconds, and then explosively hurled themselves into the cabin to relate the tale to the family, who were oblivious of all outside events, and skeptically patronizing to the tale now told with great animation and wide eyes.

And so, the legend of the Bear Lake Monster lived, at least in the hearts of the two.

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Forgotten Love

We all have good intentions–to get acquainted with a new neighbor–send a card of sympathy–pay an old friend a visit—tell somebody you love them–stop and listen with your heart. Too often I go to bed at night, having done nothing thoughtful for someone else. Didn’t cheer up anyone. Didn’t hug anybody. Made no phone calls…didn’t even send little text. The more I neglect to do this, the more dissatisfied I feel, and, the more I do it, the more peace I feel. I’d like to live each day with no regrets.

Yesterday’s words of comfort,
Why are they left unsaid?
Yesterdays’s words of gratitude
That never leave your head.
Tomorrow’s trials will surely come,
Then let’s express this day
The feelings and emotions
That come through work and play.
For kindness never leaves us cold,
But warms each new today,
For words of love and comfort
Make firm tomorrow’s way.

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TV

Bob wrote this one long ago, before i-pads and video games, and cell phones. They could be added also. I think that perhaps we could call our day successful if we have actually spoken, face to face, with another human; the kind of thing where they talk and we listen, and then we talk and they listen; and we look at each other; and we live in the present. Anybody else agree?

See how they laugh
See how they cry
See how they live
See how they die.
While I become a vegetable
With an eye.

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Worry and Fear

I’ve been fretting over changes looming in the family. I don’t do well with change, whether it is good or bad changes. I like things just the way they are! My son and family (5 of my 6 grand kids) will be moving 3 1/2 hours away. In the grand scheme of things, this really is not a big problem, in fact, it is probably a blessing. But I can count thousands of questions, problems and fears, none of which I can quite get a ‘handle’ on. My feelings have all been turned up-side-down, and sorting them is really painful.

I lay in bed at night, awake.
I count the many ways
That life can deal a deadly blow,
And fear creeps in my mind, uninvited.
I search for ways to make things right,
But always come up short.
Sometimes solutions just aren’t clear,
And, hard as it can be,
I need to trust that God, in time,
Will make all right and clear.

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Count The Stars

For my grand kids, it’s back to school time. I’ve been sending kids/grand kids to school now for 34 years! I still remember the day my oldest son went to kindergarten. I can recall what he wore, and I can still see his cute blonde hair and his cowboy shirt. How quickly time passes–sometimes so quickly that it’s scary.

Count the stars in the big night sky,
Count the years, they go flying by,
Love them now, or you’ll ache with sorrow,
They’ll grow free and be gone tomorrow.

Baby diapers to barbie dolls,
Sesame street to shopping malls,
Teddy bears to 10-speed bikes,
Playing Ninja to the big prom night.

Mother watch me and play with me to
Bye for now, can I have the car keys?

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Gold!

I’ve been enjoying watching the Rio Olympics; watching participants who wonder and hope that they are good enough to be awarded a medal. You see great joy and elation, and then you also see heart-breaking disappointment. Sometimes I find myself wanting to be able to reach out and give a hug and remind them that they are of great value and worth, even though they may have finished last in their competition. I can relate to a current tv ad that talks about how the human body has a trace amount of gold. Everyone has gold in them! I like that thought because I believe…no, I know that all of us are royalty because we are children of a Heavenly Father, who is King.

There’s gold that flows within our veins.
It makes us royalty.
Indeed, we’re children of a king–
Heirs of a kingdom heavenly.

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Pioneer Ballad

July 24th is an honored Utah holiday, celebrating the day when the pioneers first came into the Salt Lake Valley in 1847. They came as refugees from Nauvoo, Illinois and surrounding areas, and also many from Europe, especially England, Wales, Denmark, Sweden, etc; all gathering to Zion with high hopes of worshiping God in peace. Both Bob and I claim many in our family tree, and this poem/song was written as a tribute to their sacrifices that paved the way for us to be able to live with such a rich heritage.

They sailed across the ocean neigh six score years ago.
And set their faces westward to a land they did not know.
The call to join the gath’ring saints in search of peace and rest,
Kindled great desires to build a Zion in the west.

O pioneers, those pioneers! I’m proud to bear their name.
I’ll sing in praise and raise my voice; their story to proclaim.

The gospel news had spread abroad across Atlantic sea.
And grew within the hearts of a Danish family.
Like many others, they set sail and left their country home,
To join the saints en-route to a desert land unknown.

Ever westward, slowly bending to that Zion in the west.
Onward ever onward, there was little time to rest.
The dust was thick, the nights were cold. Death was ever near.
A shallow grave along the trail was a constant haunting fear.

O pioneers, those pioneers! I’m proud to bear their name.
I’ll sing in praise and raise my voice; their story to proclaim.

James Eli Powell and Mary and two children drove a team,
That pulled a covered wagon to reach a distant dream.
But as the fate of many, Mary soon grew ill and died.
No marker shows her lonely grave, where the last goodbye was cried.

Yet through it all, they often sang; the words a story tell.
Around the fire, sweet music swelled and told that ‘all is well’.
The westward trek’s remembered for the courage that it shows.
They made the desert grasses bloom and blossom as a rose.

O pioneers, those pioneers! I’m proud to bear their name.
I’ll sing in praise and raise my voice; their story to proclaim.

They planted seeds that grew into an empire through the years,
Though few knew more than crude log homes, sacrifice and tears.
The days have passed ere pioneers were seen throughout the land.
Yet their story leaves us something good to understand.

Though years roll on, and faces change, those very names we bear.
We still posses that self-same flame they carried here with care.
We can boldly raise it’s light; bright through all the years.
A tribute to those mighty ones, the Mormon Pioneers.

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