Sunday, June 26, 2011

To my Shaila Rose:

I remember your swaddled smallness that night when I snuck out of my room to stand on tiptoe and lift you out of your crib. There in the darkness your tears slipped away to the rhythm of the rocking chair. My little four-year-old heart swelled to bursting with something bigger than words. . . Have I ever told you this: you are my first memory of loving someone?

We grew side by side. Me spinning yarns of words and you making something useful with the yarn. You always surprised me with your boldness and courage even in the dark. And oh - the tepees and forts we built! The leaf piles and tire swing gymnastics, ballet recitals, swimming games and silly wrestling matches. And who knows how many times we crossed the great plains with that little red wagon and built a homestead in the wild frontier!

Our feet have worn the same shoes, sloughed through the same mud, and stood on stubborn ground. You have held me in a downpour of rain and tears and imparted wisdom beyond your years. And though some days it seems that we are as opposite as fire and water, there are many other days it feels as if we are twins. Our stride is well matched for this relay of life. Each in turn carrying the other. Sometimes simply sitting side-by-side. And when I listen to you sing, my soul soars along with your angel voice.

And you, my angel rose, have blossomed. From a tiny wonder of life who toddled after me into an inspiring friend upon whose strength I can lean. This sister metamorphosis - a heart journey from God. I treasure you!


So, dear friend, while life is joyous and full it is also fleeting and frail. Please tell someone today how much they mean to you. Words of cherishing love will never be regretted.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

When unwrapping joy. . .

The very best gifts in the world
are unwrapped

One leaf, one petal, one stem at a time.

And one forgotten bit of birdseed -
if given the chance - will grow
in unexpected places.

Sometimes I forget that only God can unwrap life petals,
And I am impatient with my hair
growing so slow!

But when the sun paints a portrait
nothing can ever hurry
its' gold.

Who am I - to rush and wish?
Both the sun and rain will bring to bloom
in perfect time -

A life - A gift!