Thursday, September 30, 2010

Through The Eyes of The Mother

He stands before the world, and he does not stand much of a chance,
to overcome the adversity of his circumstance.
He is just a prodigal in a world that knows no grace,
for all the world sees when it looks at Tyron is a bad statistic in the human race.
The cop just shook his head when he saw the criminal of the law,
and the preacher over looked him in his holy cause.
The teacher saw a waste of time on her agenda for the day,
and the neighbor clinched his fist at the good for nothing in his way.
The world just saw a statistic to sweep underneath a rug,
so why is it any wonder why Tyron just gave up.
Yet, through the eyes of the mother, there is a different view.
She does not see a statistic,a criminal, nor a fool.
She sees beyond the world's half hearted kind of man.
The kind only a mother would truly understand.
She does not shake her head, nor clinch her angry fist.
She only holds her heart when she looks at him.
She sees half of boy in this half hearted man,
and  she would gladly give all her heart if it would give him half a chance.
She does not look through the eyes of the world, but through the heart's eyes,
where there lies an unconditional love that needs no reasons why.
There are no statistics in this world of the heart and soul.
There is only compassion that freely gives, love,grace,and hope.
How different of a world could we discover,
if we would view everyone through the eyes of the mother.

There is no king who has not had a slave among his ancestors, and no slave who has not had a king among his.

Helen Keller

Friday, September 24, 2010

A Slice of Heaven

It is not the slant of my lips
nor the curve of my hips
it is not the perfume on my wrist
nor the taste of warmth in my kiss
that he cannot ever resist...
it is my pie and warm biscuits
that keep him truly in bliss.

I guess sometimes the way to a man's heart truly is through his stomach! :-)

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Like A Forest

This life is like a forest and our world is but a tree
and humanity is a flow of many colors like an abundant growth of leaves
each spread out and grow reaching toward the sky
and when the time is right we break loose and start to fly
but like the changing seasons our flight is soon a fall
we reach out like a weary hand and embrace heaven's call.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010


It lingers in the waters at the stillness of the dawn.
It stumbles with the awkward grace of an innocent fawn.
It glides the sky underneath the wings of a snow white dove.
It glimmers from the eyes of a young woman deep in love.
It's fragrance fills the air of a rose garden in the spring.
It is heard from the cathedral as the choir begins to sing.
It roams the hills with wild horses that have ventured afar.
Yet, it cannot be captured until you search inside your heart.

Monday, September 20, 2010

His Name Is Forever

When we are children time is always our friend,
we play hand in hand for hours on end.

One day we grow up and we become distant and lose touch.
We start running through life in a big rush.

Years go by, and one day, he calls and knocks at our door.
We remember, catch up, and plan to do more.

Then we are elderly, and our days become few,
he clings to our side like a friend that is true.

At the moment when we will say farewell to this place,
he does not stop nor leave, but accompanies us to heaven's gates.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Grandma's Way

Memory is a child walking along a seashore.  You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.  ~Pierce Harris

There once was an old lady with hair a light shade of blue.
Her face was slowly falling and her heart was tried but true.

She loved to feed the alley cats and tell them of her dreams.
She squatted in her lilly garden to plant her plastic queens.

I loved to hear her stories of life and days gone by.
Her voice was soft and wistful that never told a lie.

Her manner was truly graceful as she tied her sheer pink scarf.
Her words were always gentle as she touched you with her heart.

She prayed over my pillow, and cast her faith on high.
She always looked so peaceful when she glanced up at the sky.

Her hands were warm and true when she brushed my tangled hair,
and she always intently listened to all my hopes and cares.

She lived her life truly smiling, day after day.
A rainbow in the storm, that was just her way.

Even though she is gone now, and is beyond my reach,
Grandma will always be the reason I hold on to my dreams.

A tribute to the memory of my Grandma and her wonderful ways.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

The Colliding of Two Worlds

Man rushes down narrow freeways with common destinations yet diverse dreams
not always aware of the hidden eyes that may reflect from his high beams
the doe enters the clearing and steps onto pavement full of grace
ignorant of the dangers that she may soon face
our worlds like boxes in a closet set together yet worlds apart
they intersect and collide briefly but they both leave a lasting mark.

The Child Speaks

The child will freely stare,
but the adult will merely glance.

The child always goes eagerly out on a limb,
but the adult steps out carefully afraid to fall.

The child asks simply for one reason why,
but the adult preoccupies with the answers to it all.

The child embraces love whole heartedly,
but the adult slowly touches it scared it will
swallow them whole.

The child speaks his mind honestly,
but the adult only says what he cares to show.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

A Mighty Weakness

I am a wall I can be made of cement and rise up many yards high,
or I may be made of brick or stone, and reach out across the county side.

Sometimes I am a memorial that represents millions of brave souls,
and other times I am a fortress of protection that tells you where not to go.

But I hold up at my most mighty, and yet at my weakest place,
when I am built with fear, and doubt littered with pride's own waste.

There are walls that protect...

There are walls that remember...

There are walls that divide....

and there are walls that are destructive...

I am all too familiar with the walls a broken heart can build.
My father and brother had a "falling out", and were at odds with each other for years.
They did not speak for long periods of time, and never resolved their hard feelings.
When my father passed away in 1992 my brother was devastated.
He was in a form of grief the rest of his life.
He passed away in 2002.
I have faith, and I am certain that they know peace now.

Friday, September 10, 2010

The Winds of Hardship Blow In All Directions

We are not that different you and I
I can feel it in your gentle sway
you can see it in my weary eyes
like a high flag we must face the wind's blow
with a lumber strength deep in our soul
I might shift and you may bend
but we both stand up to what life blows in
side by side or worlds apart
each soul has hardships and storms at dark
we are not that different you and I
for we all long for acceptance and peaceful skies.

May there be peace on earth for EVERY man,woman, and matter where they live, or what they believe.


To the soil that calls the rainforest home a small shower alone would never be quenching
but to the open desert sand that would surely be plenty.

To the roaming cheetah who has never had company at a meal
to have to share a small kill he would surely be stingy,
but to the lioness who has always had to share the meal that would surely be plenty.

To the man whose pockets have always been full, for him half full would be half empty,
but to the man whose pockets have always been bare that would surely be plenty.

To the woman whose wardrobe is high in style and quantity, two plain dresses would be an atrocity,
but to the woman who has no wardrobe that would surely be plenty.

To the one whose experience in dining has been rich and exquisite, bread and water would be no delicacy,
but to the one who has felt starvation that would surely be plenty.

To the heart that has no trust in God, facing a loss would leave it hopeless and empty,
but to the heart that trusts in God for it's hope, through the loss, there will surely be plenty.

For Georgia...a gracious lady who has surely taught me plenty. :-)

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Food For The Soul

Reach outward like branches of a willow tree
take hold of life and keep it within your hands
embrace it's cuts and bruises
then open up to take it all in
like a baby bird that will surely be fed
for he needs strength to one day fly
from this tree
so take each slice of wisdom
and consume it to it's core
for the seeds that remain
will one day be a tree
where another little bird
will open wide
and grow
and one day fly away.

A Garden of Kisses

At first sight there is a genuine spark
it is the light of joy
that comes from true love and adoration
she rushes forward to plop in my arms
like the exhilerating splash of cool water
planting a million wonderful
grandaughter kisses all over my face
her love is so big it lights up the room
and fills my heart.

I tried to explain to my son one time the magnitude of love a grandparent feels for their grandchildren, and this was the only way I knew how to explain it to him:
"they are your special someone's little special someone, and that is what makes them so wonderfully special and precious to a grandparent."
Someday he will completely understand. :-)

Kristen was only a few months old in this photo...she is 4 years old now.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Here and Heaven

Sometimes the distance between the deliverance and the trial
can seem to be a million hard miles.
And at times the distance between bitterness and peace
can seem to be a far ocean we could never reach.
sometimes the distance between despair and hope
can seem to be an endless gravel road.
And at times the distance between our doubts and our faith
can seem to be many worlds away.
Yet, the distance between each one of these
is simply the space between the floor and our knees.