Maid of Honor speech

 When Natalie got married in 2023, Brianne, her Maid of Honor, prepared a beautiful speech to give at the rehearsal dinner when she would be asked to propose a toast. Christopher's Best Man, his father refused to bow to that convention; so Brianne had no opportunity to give her speech. I recently found it and want to preserve it; so here it is.

Okay, I'm going to try my best to get through this without ugly crying; but I really think that's highly unlikely, so if I start to lose it, maybe we can all just agree to pretend like nothing is happening and move on.

Throughout my life, my mom has always told stories about how Natalie use to always have to be holding my hand when we were little. Everywhere we went, she was always right beside mel, holding my hand. I can think of so many pictures that we have from when we were little of us walking through the zoo, on the beach, Easter egg hunting, even just sitting on the couch holding hands. 

As a big sister, I'm sure there were times it could have been a little annoying to have your little sister constantly want to be right beside you holding your hand; however, looking back, I realize now that Natalie has done that throughout my whole life; and I couldn't be more thankful for that. Natalie has held my had, bother literally and figuratively for 23 years. In some very obvious ways and in some more quiet ways that she might not even realize.  I know that no matter what we do or where we go as we start living mor separate lives, Natalie will always hold my hand, and I'll always hold hers. 

Chris, for some reason, Natalie like to hold your hand now. Really, though, I see how happy she is when she's with you, and I'm glad my sister is marrying a man who loves her so much and fits in with our family so well. I truly feel like I have gained another brother, and not just because we communicate in sarcasm, but also because you are so welcoming and accepting. As her big sister, it makes me happy to know that you will always be there to take care of her, make her laugh, make life fun, and hold her hand -- and if not, you live 5 minutes down the road, and I know where you hide the spare key!

Natalie and Chris, I am so happy that the two of you have found one another. I hope the following years are full of love, new adventures, growing together, living out dreams, so much happiness, and lots of hand-holding. I love you both. 

Letter to Mother, Ruth Shaw, 2013

 I recently found a letter I wrote to Mother on her birthday in February of 2013 (thirteen years ago as I write this preface - 3 ½ years after her death.) I want to preserve it here. 

Dear Mother,

In the book, The Five People You Meet in Heaven, Mitch Albom wrote, “Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them - a mother’s approval, a father’s nod - are covered by moments of their own accomplishments. It is not until much later, as the skin sags and the heart weakens, that children understand; their stories, and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones, beneath the waters of their lives.”

As Mr. Albom said, now that my skin is sagging and my heart is likely weakening, I am beginning to much more fully understand that any life accomplishments that I might claim are simply stories resting firmly upon yours and Daddy’s stories. These are the stones upon the stones beneath the waters of my life — all those skills and concepts I didn’t realize I was learning and all those life experiences that I never knew I’d be so grateful for.

Thank you, Mother, for the guidance you and Daddy have provided me throughout my life. Martin Luther once said, “In the midst of affliction, God counsels, strengthens, confirms, nourishes, and favors us. In the same manner parents ought to handle their children.” You have always counseled, strengthened, confirmed, nourished, and favored me as Luther advised - and as God does.

Most of all, Mother, thank you for your unconditional love. That love was the cornerstone of my childhood and continues to ground me in my adulthood. It has been given to me every day for a lifetime - and I have accepted this gift as naturally as I have accepted the colorful rain of leaves in Autumn and the perky Jonquils in the Spring. You have always lovingly listened to me when I needed to talk, and you have always lovingly talked to me when I needed to listen. What an empowering thing it is to be the recipient of such unconditional love! Thank you for knowledge of the power of love that I gained through all those wonderful years when I was growing up, being loved, and cherished, and honored as a unique child of God.

Thank you, Mother, and Happy Birthday. I love you. Joan

Noel by J.R.R. Tolkien

I've never been a Tolkien fan. The Hobbit and all the related books just never appealed to me at all. I was totally taken by surprise recently to discover that Tolkien also wrote a beautiful Christmas poem that was basically unknown and "lost" until 2013. It had been published 1936 in an obscure literary publication, received little notice at the time and receded into oblivion, not coming to light even after Tolkien's death in 1973. I regret not ever having heard Noel by Tolkien. It is written in a traditional ballad form with a regular rhythm and rhyme, a feature that I strongly prefer in poetry. It has a strong metre of alternating 8 beats and 6 beats per line, with regular rhyme, plenty of imagery, and poetic devices like alliteration that appeal to the ear. It is 5 stanzas of 8 lines each and is a beautiful tribute to the amazing salvation brought to the weary world in the birth of Jesus. Although it was republished in September of this year, it is not very easily found with Google yet, and I have copied it into my blog for my own convenience.

Noel

by J.R.R. Tolkien

Grim was the world and grey last night:
The moon and stars were fled,
The hall was dark without song or light,
The fires were fallen dead.
The wind in the trees was like to the sea,
And over the mountains’ teeth
It whistled bitter-cold and free,
As a sword leapt from its sheath.

The lord of snows upreared his head;
His mantle long and pale
Upon the bitter blast was spread
And hung o’er hill and dale.
The world was blind,
the boughs were bent,
All ways and paths were wild:
Then the veil of cloud apart was rent,
And here was born a Child.

The ancient dome of heaven sheer
Was pricked with distant light;
A star came shining white and clear
Alone above the night.
In the dale of dark in that hour of birth
One voice on a sudden sang:
Then all the bells in Heaven and Earth
Together at midnight rang.

Mary sang in this world below:
They heard her song arise
O’er mist and over mountain snow
To the walls of Paradise,
And the tongue of many bells was stirred
in Heaven’s towers to ring
When the voice of mortal maid was heard,
That was mother of Heaven’s King.

Glad is the world and fair this night
With stars about its head,
And the hall is filled with laughter and light,
And fires are burning red.
The bells of Paradise now ring
With bells of Christendom,
And Gloria, Gloria we will sing
That God on earth is come.

A Niece's 40th Anniversary Tribute

This document was found in October 2023 contained in a writing notebook belonging to me from 1990)

When Jim was pastor at Avondale Patillo UMC 1990-1994, My Uncle Grady (Daddy’s brother) and his wife, Margaret, were members of our church. When they celebrated their 40^th anniversary in 1992, I wrote a poem for them.

 

The Family Plan

I think when the Lord made his plan for the world -

How his children would grow and their lives would unfurl,

He decided that families would be a good way to go.

He made mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, and so

As  generatios came and generations went,

An eventual byproduct was the uncle and aunt.

 

My siblings and I were better supplied than many

In uncles. We had four. That's plenty!

Our uncles were Daddy’s much-loved kid brothers.

 Their kidding and joking spilled over on others.

As nieces and nephews we kids love playing games

 With our fun filled uncles Jack, Bill, Grady, and James.

 

Our uncle Grady was a great friend to us kids.

Let me just tell you some things that he did.

He gave each of us nickles to go to the store.

Running errands for him was never a chore.

He played with us often and took us for walks.

 If we got too rowdy, he'd give us pep talks.

 

He laughed with us and at us. his laugh was a cure!

He tickled and teased us, helping us feel secure.

He entertained us with stories and blew us smoke ring;s

He was a kid’s ideal uncle -- an Angel without wings.

 

Aunt Margaret joined the family when I was a teen;

She was quite an addition to the Shaw family scene.

She was tall with such grace and a beautiful smile -

Our first aunt on the Shaw side -- we were growing in style!

I thought my new aunt was quite a grand lady;

But she made us call Uncle Junior “Uncle Grady.”

 

Years have gone by since the days I've recalled;

Now when I think back and remember it all,

I thank God for his wisdom and making this plan -

Where a family can be more than just one woman and one man.

 Family can be those who touch our lives with their care,

Who help build our memories and cover us with prayer.

 

 

Thank you, Grady and Margaret, for all you have meant to each of us through the years. Thank you for the childhood years that the poem majored on and the memories that we share with you. Thank you also for the years of our adulthood when you have been an inspiration and support to us. We love you and celebrate with you 40 years of God bless partnership.

 

Joan Turrentine

 July 1992

A Fond Fairwell

 (Found 10/23 in my old writing notebook. I wrote it in 1990)

Fairwell to Varnell UMC

I am not the speaker in the family, but I could not let this occasion go by without telling you all what you have meant in my life and in the life of our family. Knowing that each of us is formed by who and what touches our lives, I want to thank each of you for having had the opportunity to know you for the last 3 1/2 years. Having grown up in a minister’s home and having a basically slow to get acquainted nature, I always hated moving and said that I would never marry anyone whose job required frequent moving. Of course, I ate those words when I married a Methodist preacher.

But over the last 26 years I have learned some important lessons about moving. I have learned that God's people are everywhere. I have learned that, even though I painfully leave wonderful friends in one place, God provides other wonderful friends in the new location. I used to think that I was to be pitied because I had to constantly leave situations just as I was beginning to feel at home in them. Now I know that I am blessed to have had the opportunity to make friends, true Christian friends, all over Georgia.

Had we not had the painful experience of leaving close friends after 7 1/2 years at prospect, we would not have had the blessing of living near my parents when Daddy had his first heart attack and being able to be there for my family during those rough times. Had we not had the painful experience of leaving Newman springs after six years, we would not have had the unequal joy of fellowship and support that we have experienced among this body of believers.

Now we are again going through the moving trauma. While we are fearing leaving you whom we have learned to love and who have helped us grow in the last few years, we don't know what other joy and opportunity for service awaits us. We do know that now we have friends in the Dalton area, we know that God's chuch is alive and well here, we know that each of you has friends in the Atlanta area now.

I want to say ”Thank you!” to Varnell United Methodist Church. Thank you for showing me Christian love in action through the long hours of work and the money needed to provide the community meal, local mission activities, and foreign mission support. Through the ministry of concern shown by the entire congregation when there is an illness or death in someone’s family.

Thank you for showing me Christian unity through the way everyone works together at Prater’s Mill, and through the way everyone pitches in to make a success of whatever is attempted: the nativity scene, the turkey trot, the sweetheart banquet, the children's programs, and many other instances of teamwork.

Thank you for showing me real Christian dedication through the absolutely unequaled music program which is attained only through dedicated time spent in practice, through the hours obviously spent in preparation by five of the best adult Sunday school teachers I've ever been taught by.

Thank you for being the church here for us and for the rest of this community

Please don't think me presumptuous, but I'd like to close my remarks by reading some words which Saint Paul wrote to friends when he left them. You know he spent his ministry making friends and then leaving them; so in that way, I can identify with him. The scriptures I want to read come from his letters to his friends in Philippi, Corinth, Thessalonica, and Ephesus. I'd like to use the plural pronouns to include our entire family and read them now to our friends here at Varnell.

“We thank God every time we remember you. In all our prayers for you we always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the very first day until now, being confident that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. It is right for us to feel this way about all of you since we have you in our hearts; all of you share in God's grace with us. God can testify how we love all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus.”

“And this is our prayer that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ. And God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus. Pray also for us, that whenever we open our mouths, words may be given to us so that we will fearlessly make known the gospel. Pray that we may declare it fearlessly, as we should. Finally, brothers and sisters, goodbye. Aim for perfection, live in peace, and the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times and in every day.”

Living Christmas

 Avondale-Patillo United Methodist Church was preparing a booklet of daily devotions for the Advent season in 1991. I was asked to write one. I wrote this one, but they chose not to use it. I figured that it was because I mentioned Caitlin’s impending birth; and after she was stillborn, they made that decision. They didn’t ask me; that was just a choice somebody made, with good intentions I am sure, to avoid potential additional pain.

 

Living Christmas

Scripture reading: Luke 1:26 through 22:52

The Christmas season this year finds me more aware than usual of the anticipation involved in the biblical account of the birth of Jesus. As we anticipate the birth of our first grandchild and see our daughter-in-law becoming “great with child” during this advent season I’ve begun to wonder about the feelings, thoughts, and responsibilities of the earthly family of the savior as they looked forward to his birth. How did they respond to so great a joy and responsibility? The biblical record gives us a few clues to answer these wanderings. What clues we have center almost entirely on the feelings, thoughts, and responsibilities of Mary, the mother of Jesus (and to a somewhat lesser degree Joseph, his earthly father.) Through rereading the story of Christ’s birth and focusing on Mary and Joseph's character and responses to life, I find some suggestions about how any person might experience the birth, and therefore the life, of Jesus today.

 

We know that Mary had faith that God knew what was best and would provide strength and wisdom to those who follow his will. Mary first reacted to the knowledge that she had been chosen to bear the son of God by questioning. However, that questioning was followed immediately by acceptance of God's will. In Luke 1:38, Mary says, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be to me according to your word.”

Joseph also was willing to accept God's word and will for his life. In Matthew 1:24, after the angel of the Lord told joseph that he should not be afraid to take Mary as his wife, the scripture says, “He did as the angel of the Lord commanded him. He took his wife.”

Lord, help me to have faith to live by your will in my life.

The Bible shows us that Mary and Joseph were true to the divine trust that was given to them. They provided physical care for God's son. By providing food, nurture, and training, they brought the child Jesus to full manhood.

Mary and Joseph were thoughtful and deeply spiritual parents who provided spiritual leadership for their children. The Bible tells us that Mary “pondered all these things in her heart.” Some of the most beautiful scripture we have is what is called The Magnificat, found in Luke 2;46-55. In this passage Mary expresses her feelings about this responsibility. She expresses awe, and wonder, and obedience, and gratefulness, and joy. The wisdom and spiritual discernment of Mary and Joseph was further shown in the circumcision of her Son, his presentation at the temple, and Mary's own purification 40 days after the birth. Through the years, they made the customary returns to the temple for sacrifices and worship. Every parent who gives birth to a child has received a trust from God and will someday give an account of his/her stewardship. Each of us has an area of responsibility for which he/she will be held accountable.

Lord, help me be true to the trust that you have given to me.

Jesus came to bring peace on earth. Those of us who are seeking peace in this advent season would do well to follow the example that Mary and Joseph gave us as they prepared for Jesus’s advent into the world:

·         have faith to live by god's will for our lives and

·         be true to the trust he has given us.

And this way, perhaps we can truly be prepared for the advent of Jesus in our lives.

 

Upon College Graduation - Steve

From an old writing notebook uncovered 10/23, written 1990.

Steve graduated from College in May 1990, just a few weeks before he and La Donna married. I wrote him this letter (from my heart but based partly on one I had read that Janice had written Charmaine) for the occasion.

Dear Steve,

As you accept your degree and step into a new relationship with the world, we know that the apron strings to us which have been lengthening as you've matured must soon be cut. As you have earned this independence, you have earned much more. You have proven yourself worthy of trust period now you are mature and dependable and ready to try your own wings, and we are confident that your flights will be beautiful as well as purposeful. We, your family, will observe each flight proudly, applaud enthusiastically, and be on call for you throughout our lives.

Because we love you, we have tried to instill within you morals that will withstand temptation; We have tried to help you develop a sense of responsibility. Our task was an easy one, for you are by nature a person with genuine concern and compassion. You have the ability to love generously. Though you have brought us joy and happiness that is immeasurable, we cannot shield you from disappointment nor guarantee all the things that we wish for you. We have no fortune that will help you gain favor or approval in this world. We have no easy formula for success; nor do we have a magic potion to ward off failure. We have not even been able to provide you with unblemished memories; for you have seen us cry faithless tears of despair, and you have witnessed ugliness in our times of anger and weakness. You have seen the necessity for forgiveness and beginning again in our lives and in our relationships. But the things that we have or have not been able to give you are insignificant compared to the things of real value in life that are all yours in Christ Jesus. Your heavenly father, who loves you far more than we, has riches in store beyond your and our comprehension.

We commit you now (as we committed you at your birth) to his care as the fire of the world tests the gold of your character. We are proud of you. We love you, and we will continue to lift you to God in our prayers daily.

With our love,

Dad and Mom

The Dance - A Short Story

Short Story #9 for the year is due today. The prompt was "duck" and the word count was 1000 words exactly. Here's my entry.

The Dance

Manon leaned forward slightly in her comfy corner chair so she could see more clearly out the rain-steaked window. It had been a hectic and tiring week at work, and now the long, wet weekend was dragging slowly by. It had rained non-stop since she left work Friday afternoon. She had cleaned and taken care of household business through the long, saturated Saturday; and today she had read for a while after church and had watched a little TV. Now she had time but lacked inspiration to write or paint. So here she was -- simply BEING!

She gazed out the window and wondered when her life had become so gray and stagnant? Where was the romance and excitement that had filled her life last summer? Where was the joy and love she had thought were hers?

She sat up suddenly. What was that movement she had spotted out at the start of the woods? She wiped at the window to see if she could get a better look. The water forming rivulets down the windowpane distorted the view, so she wasn’t quite sure what she had seen. Was it someone (something?) ducking under that low-lying limb of the dogwood tree at the edge of the yard? She squinted and concentrated. Nothing there now, but she could swear there was movement there a minute ago. Perhaps the neighbor’s dog? Surely not an escapee from the jail on the other side of the woods! Probably just her imagination. She sighed. Then she also smiled, remembering ducking under that very same dogwood branch last summer. They had been seeking respite from the sudden rain under the huge sweeping branches of the large oak behind the blooming Dogwood tree.

She and Bradley, oh yes, she remembered Bradley! What a week they’d had! They had been caught in the rain that day - during that special week a year ago. It had been a lovely, early-summer walk until the sudden downpour had sent them scurrying and squealing. Bradley had grabbed her hand, and they had run, laughing, into the woods to find shelter, hoping the shower would be as short as it had been sudden. How quickly she and Bradley had become comfortable with each other during that week of pre-wedding activities! Such happy memories they had made! She had thought maybe the relationship would continue and grow. So sad, though, that now she was reduced to searching for happiness only by imagining and remembering! Presently, there seemed to be life only outside the dreary confines of her routine life. Outside the walls of her lonely apartment.

Manon leaned back again now, trying to close her mind to the memories and her eyes against the pain. As she drifted, the ghost of a remembered tune began tickling and teasing in the back of her head. It would quickly touch base there before skipping off to hide again. It was just a ghost of a melody, but somehow it persisted and held enough reality to capture her full attention. She couldn’t shake it loose, so she slowly breathed out and let her mind float on the haunting tune as it began to develop a full body. The music began to fill her head. The music lifted her arms and her heart. It pulled her from her comfortable reverie, and she began to sway with the music accompanying the memory that was playing inside her very core.

Time and space dissolved, and Manon was in the arms of the tall groomsman at her sister’s wedding last summer. Bradley held her like a precious jewel; a diamond. Or no! An emerald! One of those brilliant, rare red emeralds valued beyond the most priceless diamond. It was he, Bradley, who glided around the dance floor with her that night. He proudly glided -  happy in the knowledge that his arms were tasked with protecting and displaying this treasure. He held Manon with reverence and joy, delight and confidence. Her steps moved in perfect synchrony with his, although their entire history was encapsulated within that single week. He bent to position his lips near her ear and whispered the words of the love song as they moved together. He whispered, and the dance floor disappeared. They became the music, and the room dissolved. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat, and her own heartbeat began to keep time with his. They were alone in time and space, dancing to the music of the spheres.

As she circled under his arm in another smooth, elegant turn, her shadowy green eyes met his sparkling brown ones. They smiled in mutual remembrance of their romantic walk on the beach the night before, after the wedding rehearsal. As the waves had rushed into the shore and back out again in the twilight, they had strolled hand in hand along the shoreline. They walked long stretches in companionable silence punctuated by occasional pauses for soft kisses – kisses that mirrored the gentle ones the waves were dropping on the face of the shore.

He had held her hand, often in both of his. He had shortened his stride to accommodate her shorter steps. She had listened with rapt diligence as he tucked her hair behind her ear and told her of past disappointments and his dreams for the future; and she had become drunk on his undivided attention as she detailed the important life lessons she had learned and treasured from her faith and family. Their time together had seemed as rare as that 2-karat red emerald, and she had thought that it would be as enduring at that rare stone.

Now, as Manon danced alone in her room on this rainy Sunday evening, she smiled. An amazing man had loved her last summer. He never said so, and his absence now weighed a thousand pounds; but the wonder and the wondering lit her up as she remembered. Having almost certainly been loved still made her dance.

2023 Men

One of the things that has filled my mind since Sunday’s big family event (The wedding of AnnaGrace Turrentine and Zachary Harper) is a new appreciation of men.

I’ve been blessed with so many outstanding men in my life - beginning with my own father, grandfather, and uncles and going up through all the men (old and young) I watched Sunday demonstrating what Godly manhood and masculinity means. It is not easy to be a man in 2023. Their inborn nature is being disparaged by much of society. They are being pressured to ignore their natural and admirable tendency to provide for and protect those around them.

Before the wedding I saw the beautiful young bride, our granddaughter, reach around the door to hold hands with her handsome groom without visual connection. They were surrounded by some of the most important men in their lives. These men were there because of their love for the young couple, because of their sense of responsibility to the young couple, by their need to provide a new generation with their life experience of our human need for God's love in our relationships. They were there to pray for the couple's impending marriage.

The Groom's father - a Baptist pastor, married for over 30 years

The Bride's father - A Baptist deacon and Bible teacher, married for over 30 years

The Groom's uncle - a Baptist pastor, married for more than 30 years.

The Bride's maternal grandfather - A Baptist pastor, married for 58 years.

The Bride's paternal grandfather - A Methodist pastor, married for 59 3/4 years.

It was a holy moment.

As the prayers ended, I turned to look at the yard and saw a line of 12 tuxedoed men and one tuxedoed little boy being photographed: The Groom, his 11 attendants, and the child attendant tasked with preceding the Bride down the aisle blowing bubbles. That little boy is my great grandson; five of the groomsmen are my grandsons; the groom will be my grandson at the end of the ceremony. My son, who is also the father of the bride and tuxedoed as well, was standing just off-camera ready to help corral the active bubble-boy, his grandson. I was looking at 14 more amazing specimens of GOOD and admirable masculinity!

Side Note: Most of the women in the lives of the couple had taken care of the details to make the wedding meaningful and beautiful. They had planned, decorated, cooked, advised, dressed, combed, made up... I will probably write later about their importance and their many contributions to the day as well as to our lives.

New Year's Resolutions

 In today's The Catholic Think newsletter, Michael Pakaluk made this interesting and valid insight into New Year's resolutions or any attempt we might make at self-improvement. "If I resolve not to eat between meals, or to put away machines when spending time with my family, I am making a merely 'corrective' resolution. If I am successful, I simply put myself back to where I should be. I don’t improve myself but keep from getting worse." He goes on to expound on how to make "additive" resolutions

or changes that add step upon step to make a cumulative improvement to one's situation. This would be something like "saving $10 every week." Then Mr. Pakaluk proposes making "compounding" resolutions - those that lead to increasing skills or knowledge. Perhaps running half a mile each day, likely increasing the distance as proficiency and endurance increase. Then he mentions "Provocative" resolutions - those that lead to other changes. He suggests several determinations or resolutions we might make that would meet this criteria. These would likely be changes that include our giving up some control of our lives. Resolving (determining) to work our way through a spiritual book with an open heart and mind might call us to make changes in outlook and give new direction to our lives. He suggests setting a regular schedule of meeting with a spiritual mentor or setting up a system to track spiritual insights and revelations - perhaps a scheduled nightly review of your conscience in light of God's grace.

The Love and the Gift of Christmas

Christmas is so often misunderstood in our society. People, even those in the church, sing about JOY and GIFTS without realizing what true joy is or what the real gift of Christmas is. In this morning's readings, I read this truth. #TruthMatters

"authentic joy ...fills the heart freed from sin. Sin carries a sadness with it that leads us to close ourselves up within ourselves. Grace brings with it the true joy that does not depend on having things but is rather rooted in the most intimate, deepest part of the person, and that nothing and nobody can take away...Christianity is the proclamation of the victory of grace over sin, of life over death. . . .It is necessary therefore to learn to say no to the voice of egoism and to say yes to the voice of authentic love." Peter M.J. Stravinskas

So the JOY of Christmas is the freedom to be truly ourselves without the burden of sin - this freedom is ours because of the GIFT of God's grace in providing us a way out of our sin and the heaviness it has put into our lives. I hope and pray that each of us will truly receive the GIFT of God's grace into our lives so that we can experience the true JOY of the season.

Ready for Christmas?

 The 12th poem of 2022 in the writing group, Deadlines for Writers, is due today. The prompt was "centre."  Here is the poem I submitted, finishing my fourth year. 

Ready for Christmas?

Can you forget the favors you have done

And ponder just the blessings you’ve received?

Can you forgo the credit due to you

And celebrate what others have achieved?

 

Can you forget that someone did you wrong

And love that “someone” as a child of God?

Admitting you have sometimes been at fault -

Not blameless – just a human, fully flawed?

 

Can you trust and know that love will win the day

And work for hate and evil to subside?

Can you nurture seeds of happiness and joy,

And in God’s love and peace each day abide?

 

If so, you’ll know that Christmas time is here.

The Light has come – a new and glorious morn!

The love of God is centered in your heart.

 Go out and live the joy that Christ is born!

Aunt Vek

I seldom remember my dreams in any detail at all; and when I do, I have to wonder at the state of my unconscious. They seldom make much sense. 

 Last night (early this morning actually) I dreamed of my dear maternal aunt, Aunt Vek (pronounced Veek, and substituting for Vera.) It has been 22 years since she went home to see the Savior she served in life; but here she was in my dreams this morning! It was unmistakably her although she was working in an old-fashioned department store and helping another customer select an undergarment, when I happened upon her. Why would my subconscious put her in this setting? I'm sure she never worked in a department store, and I don't recall ever shopping with her. But when, I first spotted her in the dream, she was talking animatedly with the customer. That part was very true-to-character. She was a very open and welcoming person who related comfortably to everyone around her. Another weird detail I remember is that a co-worker of hers observed our interaction, and immediately told us to visit and she would help the other customer. What a strange little detail to come up in the dream! 

Our brief reunion (hugs, exclamations, laughs) felt very familiar and acknowledged the length of our separation. I wish I remembered what we said to each other and how we parted again at the end; I don't. I just remember the warm home-coming feel of the dream. There was little substance to the dream, really, but I have found myself all morning remembering Aunt Vek with alternating tears and smiles. What a wit my aunt had! She was so much fun to be around; and I remember lots of laughing with her and her sisters. My much-more-reserved mother seemed to loosen up when she was with her big sister. Aunt Vek seemed to have an unlimited capacity to nurture - if you were hers to claim, you were perfect and beloved! I think her dozens of nieces and nephews feel the same way as I did about her. Rest in peace, Aunt Vek. You are still in our hearts. 

Remembering the Laughter

The eighth poem prompt is "laughter." At first I thought I would have to just not submit a poem this month since laughter was so far from my experience. This entire month has been spent in dark concern and grief when my younger sister had a series of small strokes followed by a massive one, and we watched in helplessness as her physical condition deteriorated through the weeks. She fought to stay with us; she struggled to communicate; the agony was unbearable; and the struggle was, in the end, futile. I created this painting and wrote this poem in loving memory of my precious "baby sister" Sharlyn Beth Shaw Roszel, 12/19/1954 - 08/05/2022. 

(Original painting "Mourning Roses" depicts Beth's 5 grandchildren mourning the loss of their grandmother.) 

When my grieving overwhelms me and there’s little else but pain, 

When it seems that brightening sunshine will never come again, 

When I think of how your leaving caused the good in life to wane,  

It’s the mem’ry of your smile 

that soothes my pain.  

   

In the midst of darkest mourning,  

As an anchor in the storming, 

It’s the mem’ry of your laughter 

That sustains.