My Boys… my boys

I’m watching them grow

from the laundry I fold

I peer into their room and see drums and a lizard

Bigger shoes and books with barely any pictures

 

When did I blink?

When did I stop buying coconut shampoo

and trade it for manly shower gels?

 

If I look closely

On their beds or under

I see Curious George with a bandaged head

A pony here and a blue dog up there

a book about Fred and Ted that was half read

 

There’s a sleeping blond haired boy

On the bunk below

With blue eyes so fair

and cheeks so soft

Perfect to sink kisses in

Just above this one

is the older son who will soon be ten

with adventure filled eyes

and feet ready to run.
The years pass by so quickly

It’s not something they just say.

You’d be wise to listen

and don’t blink.

 

This one

Blond hair and freckles

Tall and skinny

with the kindest of hearts

 

That one

Blond hair with expressive brows

Solid and gentle

Creative and visionary
How did I get them?

I’m the luckiest Mom ever

Me and the Moon

I looked up and saw the tempest night staring back at me.  Its bright eye, the silver moon, was tangled in the naked black branches caught in the act of watching me.

Did you whip the winds into a fury this day to catch my attention?  Did it frustrate you that I did not look for you; that I did not notice?  I saw evidence of your angry fit but I did not speak to you.

And now, I am ensnared in the glow of your gaze upon me.  Your anger has died down and in this quietness I see you for the first time and what a sight you are.  The night a torrid, murky, midnight blue and there you sit a silvery brilliance, unblinking.

We stare, you and I.  Finally, you have my attention.  I am beheld in such mystery.  I am in awe of your beauty.

Look at me!  Your brilliance demands.

And I look

You silence my soul.

You are beautiful – we say to each other

A blush.  A shy smile.  I look away.

But you glare making sure I know… making sure I believe it

Don’t look at me!  Look at you! 

I see you.  You are not invisible.  I see you where you are.  You are beautiful – your words declare it.

 

The Story Behind the Words –

Fearfully Beautiful

Because you are beautiful you are feared

Feared because you have the power to make a man weak

A man can be overcome with an intense fascination; passion

That drives him to want to be near the flame; to touch it

And bring it in to his own body

Perhaps to give his dark, lonely soul life

Brother

I stayed away

It’s too much pain

My life is full

Hard to manage my own affairs

To include all your cares

 

There were times

When your life

Was worth more than mine

And the rift it caused

Was soon a great divide

 

So I pulled back

I stayed away

I didn’t ask

I didn’t pray

 

My life was just okay

And I told myself

I liked it that way

 

But I didn’t.

 

Oh Pride

Oh Pride

why won’t you let me be

the constant nagging

the hum of conversations and scenerios of how the past event should have been

The threads of “what I should have said” “what I should have done” keep ringing

singing in my head

be done,  I say

that horse is dead

but no

it rises again

groaning, moaning

A zombie wishing to be fed

and what shall I feed it?

My selfish wounded pride

My self righteousness instead?

It bugs me in the silence

stealing quiet moments in the shower

or even now when the house is still

oh how the wheels in my mind turn

over and over

like a rusty, creaking hamster wheel

If this happens because of that then I’ll say this

and then that person will stand there shocked

without a word to say

and I’ll just walk away

pleased as punch

At least that’s what my pride

believes.

I’ve been wronged

So what?

Weary

A pasta shell settles in its bag behind her making the hair on the back of her neck stand up.  It’s tough being alone when there’s no one around to perform for, not after she tells her friends there’s nothing she can do but suck it up.  But in the dead of night, in the privacy only darkness can afford she cries desperate, terrified tears into her pillow.  She screams out to God that she has no breath in her lungs to “suck it up.”

She can no longer suck up the constant fear that if she fails her whole world will crumble.

Ask

Ask

You asked me for a child                                                                                                            
Two years later I answered
your cries

I did not lie
I did not turn a deaf ear
Nor did I hide

I waited
For just the right time
For just the right mom
For just the right child

When you thought I was far away
I wove together a woman’s life
that was falling apart

I softened her heart and strengthened yours

I brought her tenderly to My side
and refined you through the fire
all at the same time.

How brilliant you are to me
How much stronger and more promising
are your futures because of my perfect
plans for you

She asked for wisdom
So I gave her an answer

You have a child
and now …  I do too

God’s answer to our prayers is never just for us but the audience of witnesses that surround us and all of eternity.

God will sometimes give me pictures.  I was inspired by a picture I saw in my mind of my dear friend Briana and her new adopted son, Hunter.

I thought I was going to have to stage the picture but then she posted a picture that shouted “THIS is it!  This is what I saw!”  With her permission I am sharing it with you.  This is what an answered prayer looks like, years of toil and tears, a prayer coming to fruition.

Don’t give up.  Press on. Persevere.

This is a message not only for you but for me as well. Isn’t it worth it?

Uniquely You

You’re not suppose to look like me

You’re not supposed to be like me

That story’s already been told.

You are who you are

And I will be who I will be

 

Uniquely You

Uniquely me

 

Find your own story

Make your own way

Stay away from my mistakes

Wisdom I hope you will take

 

Uniquely me

Uniquely you

 

There’s plenty of time to shine

So in my shadow do not hide

You are you

And I am I

And greater I pray

You will be

Because my son

You are not meant to be

Me.

It’s NOT my birthday

Today is NOT my birthday.  I’m not turning 43 years old.  My eyesight is not changing on me and my metabolism is not slowing down.  You do not see love handles <= here or here =>, so do not look cuz they are not there.

I do not feel old. My back does not creak or pop or even stiffen when I have stayed too long in one position.  Nope.  My knees and shoulders do not make noise and nor do my hips when I shimmie, shake or pick up the boys.

I do not have crow’s feet or fine lines for that matter and that is no lie.   My jeans fit.  I like their tightness around my hips.  I do not have to wear those cute stylish shirts that billow out.  For that style I’m not SO thankful about.

I’m not going out tomorrow and that’s the truth.  I’m not going to take the day off from housework or making meals or homeschooling and somewhere in there is the truth.  I’m not going to make you guess.

I’m not going to say thank you to all my wonderful friends for not recognizing my birthday because as you know it is not today.  It’s just another day that needs no fanfare whatsoever.  I’ll thank you very much for not being that clever.

Since it’s not my birthday I won’t ask for a cameo ring from Etsy, or clothes (because they all fit), I do not want books to read or see Gaffigan in Austin or tickets to see movies and I did not see trailers for.  Nope.

So, wish me not a Happy Birthday because it is not.  I will not feel crappy.  No, I will not.

The Weight of His Love

I am crushed by the weight of His love

Drowning in His pursuit of me

A dirty lowly sinner not worthy of His gaze

How can I stand in His presence?

Not even my shadow can cross the threshold

Of Your temple.

Yet. He. Loves. Me.