And so I sit before this screen. I feel so dumb, I want to scream! There is a note to update now, But I seriously do not know how.
I log onto the site to chat In hopes of learning this or that, But when all is said and done, I only feel supremely dumb.
I really do like to share our poetry, but the technical side of our blog site is mind boggling to me. I did not grow up in the computer age. I remember when I started to work at LDS Hospital in 1970, everyone was awed at the modern computer system just installed. It took up a whole floor of the hospital.
Anyway, just venting my frustration. Another frustrating thing is that Bob says we are missing valuable comments. He believes the spam programs are eliminating them. So, if you are reading this, please send a comment, and if sending comments is cumbersome, do it anyway and tell me about it..please!
The link above has nothing really to do with the poem or picture, except that we should always be open to learning new things from the challenges we face.
I remember a Christmas season..1977. My newborn son was about 4 months old, and as I rocked him one still evening and basked in the light of our small Christmas tree in that old rock house in Farmington, Utah….I reflected upon my feelings of joy and wonder, and thought of Mary and the baby Jesus, and her story became personal to me, and I penned a poem/song that has been posted here before…just a few lines for now:
I know of a baby just as small as you, Born in a country that the shepherds knew. A host of angels sang a song to him. Birds chirped praises and ox kept time. Stars shone brightly on that night divine, For the little babe born in Bethlehem. He was born that night for you and me, So we could grow to perfect be, And live in joy…forever, Together.
And now, another Christmas season is here, and this year I hold a newborn grandson, and those same feelings come rushing in, and I’d like to post a few lines from a poem given to me on my birthday: Rhythm of the Heart–
Basked in your love like a lizard--soaking sun now I too have played the part to soothe the fears to tend the heart watch them fall wait for the rise
A mother's heart is open wide a mother's heart is often broke it's full of guilt it's full of hope tenderness ferocious pride
The days are long the years fly by midnight feedings sleepless nights messy rooms and tickle fights chubby hands--reaching
A mother is a creature divided such overwhelming, bittersweet joy baited breath as bird takes flight please let them soar--let them fly.
I can’t seem to get this 18 min. video to download correctly, so, to view it go to www.comeuntochrist.org/light-the-world/the-christ-child
Dawn calls us through a window (freed from ivy vines) Through the labor of my best friend with her heart, body and mind. God gives us each talents and watches what we do. We each have our agency to choose what we want to.
The Son's gold touches the sky. The clouds catch His first rays. I rose up slow and careful and stretched my pain away. I gave my thanks to Heaven, to live just one more day-- rose and dressed and slipped away, as my mate slept on today.
I went out our front door and drove to a special place Above the wake-up noise of each soul's fleeting race. I watch the Son's miracles caress each cloud on high, And gaze in awe-struck wonder, of this earth, clouds and sky.
From deer to bunny rabbits, to the birds that praise each dawn, Each miracle reflects God's eternal song.
Now I sit again, in silence as my mobile turns before my face, Reminding us of each precious goal; each family's special in time & space.
Bob wrote this on his birthday–July 20. Here it is, almost September, and I’m supposed to post a poem every Monday. Well, that hasn’t happened this summer. We’ve really been on the run and have not been home-based. But I suspect there aren’t many of you who race to your computer on Monday morning to catch the newest post, do you? If I lived for comments, I’d be dead! So that’s a scolding for both of us.
This is China Cove…one of the places that has distracted me from the blog this summer.
You are special to me, My little hummingbird... Your happy face, Screams of delight, The way you want to hold my hand, Your silent, thoughtful manner, Your explosive enthusiasm, Your ever-present wit, The way you play together, Your faces when you sleep, The way you take pickles off cheeseburgers, Your excitement over a penny, The way you stick up for Jetta. You make no demands of me. Your creative talent, The little poems you write, Your tender feelings, The way you sing Moana songs, The way you stick up for yourself, The way Grandpa is your best friend, Because you are my tent buddy, The way you eat cheeseburgers.
I found this poem saved on my desktop, and I don’t know who wrote it, so, somebody confess! I don’t know where it came from. Another sign of my old age, I guess. I could have written those words because they ring so true to me, but I didn’t.
Little things mean so much: The way we do things, unique to ourselves. It’s like Mr. Rogers used to say, “There’s no person in the whole world like you, and I like you just the way you are.”
So, this has been a really busy bunch of months, and, in case you have been watching, I have not been posting every Monday morning, or even every week. As I was trying to go to sleep the other night, for some reason, words to a lullaby kept coming into my mind; not a known lullaby, but a new one, especially for our upcoming grandchild. They flowed into my mind, and I hoped that in the morning I would be able to remember them. Ha. Well, I got up and wrote them down. Laid back down. Tried to sleep. More words kept coming. Got up again. Wrote them down, and put them to an Irish tune in the morning. Now, we are waiting for baby to come in November!
Come away wee little laddie Lean your head upon my breast. Come away with me to dreamland. Close your eyes and take a rest.
Oh, wee lad, you are a treasure; More than silver, more than gold. You're a gift sent straight from Heaven; Ours to love and ours to hold.
May the stars that light the heavens Shine their light throughout the night. Stand a watch as you are sleeping, 'Til the morning shines her light.
Oh, wee lad, you are a treasure; More than silver, more than gold. You're a gift sent straight from Heaven; Ours to love and ours to hold.
May the sun shine down upon you; Keep you safe and keep you warm. May our love abide forever; Keep you far away from harm.
Oh, wee lad, you are a treasure; More than silver, more than gold. You're a gift sent straight from Heaven; Ours to love and ours to hold.
May you always know we love you, Little Laddie, boy of mine!
If I wrote about a vacation, who would want to read it? Is there anyone as interested in the details as I am? I don’t think so….I think I write for me; kind of making a road map of life events that somehow allow you to take that road again–maybe not in the car or on the plane–maybe so, but maybe not. You don’t have to because you’ve already been there. You’ve already seen the show and it slips into one of those folders in that huge filing cabinet small enough to fit invisibly in my mind, or is it my spirit?..It must be because it’s not tangible. But I can open up that folder at will…that’s why I write. That’s why I take photos; otherwise, I fear the folder might be empty–what then?
Then I can’t achieve a ‘state of being’. I can’t dance to the music again. I can’t skip down the street. I can’t sparkle inside. I can’t absorb the saturation of excitement, and it can’t lift me, can’t give me wings….ah…but my folder isn’t empty, and so I can! You see, I don’t have to really come home to stay. Neither do you. Just take that smile , vision, thrill, tear, that time when you held your breath and when you held so tight, sang so free, felt so glorious, and heard their wonder, exhilaration, awe, fulfillment…it’s all there. It’s a state of being, bolted and bonded, never to really ever slip away. Isn’t it wondrous?
I will entitle this entry as “Eden” because I feel I have been to the Garden of Eden last week. My daughter and I took a trip to Carmel-by-the-sea, visiting the coastline, Monterey Aquarium, Point Lobos, and the enchanting downtown Carmel with never-to-be-forgotten gift shops, and dining that was most memorable and also tasty.
I was going to write a poem about it; something to catch the wonder, the fresh sea breezes, the vivid and wild ocean, the amazing creatures, and so much more….but all I could think of was the words to the hymn, “O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds thy hands have made, I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, Thy pow’r throughout the universe displayed…..when thru the woods and forest glades I wander, and hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees, When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur, and hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze….Then sings my soul, my Savior, God, to thee, How great the art! How great thou art!
This posted poem is contributed by a guest writer, my daughter, Eve. My thoughts so often turn to my children and grandchildren with reflections on how fast time takes them from me. Several of my previous posts have been focused on that very sentiment, and, the older I get, the deeper I feel the distance, and the more I ache to gather them all in an everlasting embrace. As I look through old photographs of when my kids were babies or grade school age, I see images that verily suck me back in time and place to some spot to briefly see and feel it all over again. I can still see myself checking to see if they’ve fallen asleep, or I can see them all packed into a vehicle on the road to some anticipated vacation. I see them playing in the house, and chuckle again at the super hero costumes that often accompanied that play. I see Sunday tents in the living room, and bunnies and puppies in the back yard. I see a LIFE made of photographs. What follows is written by Eve Richardson:
James and I took a walk tonight. The last night of spring break. But sometimes, when I slow down enough it seems like more than winter is coming to an end. More like an era might be closing. Here am I–holding onto the past, trying to embrace the future. Always more useful in retrospect than in the moment.
Boy in the Red Jacket running, running, running winter at your back as you sprint into spring
"Time me Mama!" How fast you traverse each corner my watch is broken or is it my heart? all these seconds--slipping away
Boy in the red jacket running, running, running short legs, pumping looking back--to make sure I'm still there
You run so fast I want to keep up but I can't the corner, always on the horizon I'm here, still here, always here
Boy in the red jacket Thief of my heart I look forward--to make sure you're still there the sun is setting that odd, enchanting quality of light I'll see you there--forever.
This image was posted here on 20 November 2017. It’s called “Into the Woods” and is a painting of my six grandchildren moving forward, so fast!
Drifting on the Sea of Life is such a risky thing. Without a chart & compass, the rocks & reefs of life can sting. The treacherous waves await us, with every wind that blows. The sirens of lies & deceit can blind our troubled souls,
Confusing truths direction, depending on our goal. Without a map & compass to God's light, how can we know A safe & clear, proven coarse, upon life's troubled sea, Unto that safe, sure harbor, awaiting you and me?
There is a perfect captain, who calls to every soul, Across the endless waves of time & space to help us grow. His motive is our welfare. He guides us from on high To bring us safely home to Christ's harbor, if we will serve and try.
He gives us charts and maps to guide post rocks and hidden reefs. His compass is the scriptures; prayer calls Him to our relief Past rocks of sorrow & tears, and reefs of hidden deceit, Unto the peaceful harbor, where life becomes more pure and sweet.
I've done my share of drifting, with no set place to go. I've sailed through deep depression of body, mind and soul. I've wrecked upon the rocks & reefs of pride's dark vanity. I felt the emptiness, as my sins washed over me.
I called unto my Master: "Please help my sin-torn life!" He reached his hand beneath life's waves, as I drowned in my strife. He guided me to others, who understood life's maze. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints teaches of His ways.
Past all the rocks & hidden reefs, as we follow the Holy Son Through storms of all our trials, Christ helps us work as one.
Don't go faster than we have the strength to go. Don't feel guilty for needing to go slow. We need to be wise about what we can do. Don't be afraid to ask the Lord to help us make it through.
When someone asks us for help along their way, Weigh each circumstance with what we do today. It's better to do one thing well, than two things badly. Time is a precious gift. Spend it gladly. *
We each have things we care about. Dreams we want to do. Only those who watch their time, will make good dreams come true. When someone asks for a dime, let us give them two. A generous soul receives again; good deeds bring God's love through.
Remember, be slow to say, "I will." So we won't break our word. Only when the spirit calls can we truly serve. Don't run faster than we have strength, Or life can get absurd!
*D&C 123:17--Therefore, dearly beloved brethren, let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power; and then my we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed.
Early settlers to the Bear Lake Valley built this old cabin in Fish Lake, Utah. Pioneers have always been fascinating to me. The ones who came to Bear Lake Valley in 1863 were sent by Brigham Young from the Salt Lake area. Just think. The Salt Lake Valley wast first settled in 1847 at great sacrifice to build homes, plant gardens, and to just try to stay alive. I’m thinking that those early settlers would have thought they were running faster than they had strength, but perhaps it was a matter of survival. Then, after having been there for only a few years, perhaps just enough to build that home and clear land for a farm, they were asked to move again to a colder, less hospitable place. And they went. They were asked to do something that I believe may have seemed too hard, too much.
I think that we, as mothers, are sometimes asked to go too fast; to do too much; to spread ourselves way too thin. But we do it. Why? Because we love. Is that bad? You tell me. Should the pioneers have said, “No.”? When are we really justified to say no? Think about it, and let’s come back an finish this. PLEASE COMMENT!
The link below is entitled “Just a Mom” Click on the ‘red’ to view..It’s only a couple of minutes.
