family

march seven

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my youngest went away on a trip. i asked him if his mother he would miss. he said only a little bit and i think he only said that to be kind, for any hesitations on his departure he did not show. thankful for the good friends in his world. wish the oldest ones had some of the same opportunities and such when they were young. but trusting the big picture maker to be making something beautiful even of missed joys.

simeon snow campw

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march five – this kind of mom

Posted in 365, family, these are my days | 0 comments

 

today i was the kind of mom i always want to be. The kind who drops everything to be with a child when they call. to begin with, i don't talk on the phone while driving. unless my daughter calls, then all bets are off. for when she calls, i answer the phone. today i answered the phone. my sweet girl was under the weather, and wished to have her mamma spend a lazy day with her. so wriggling myself out of a few commitments and including in my getaway plan a boy who wanted to see his sister even though she was germ infested and probably not her usual fun self, away this mamma went. no extra clothes. no quilts. no yummy food to share. no toothbrush. just a mom being a mom.

a pot of soup was made and a lot of love was shared. and i know that this is who i am meant to be.

 

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a most favorite day was had

Posted in family, these are my days | 1 comment

 I recently spent the most delightful of days with my most delightful daughter in her not-so-very-far-away-but-not-close-enough-to-deliver-a-loaf-of-hot-bread-on-a-whim city.

She took her mamma on a bike ride.

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saying goodbye – for now

Posted in encouraging words, family, these are my days, Uncategorized | 8 comments

***

Blessed is He who gives and takes away.

***

In this life, we are mostly given gifts.

Gifts of new life and joys and great memories along the way.

Today a life took a turn.

It began to be taken away.

And yet I will say “Blessed be the Lord.”

***

I didn’t want to do this day.

I don’t like hospitaly places. I don’t like death and sickness.

I don’t even like driving on the city roads to get there.

But this girl went.

It was the hardest of days,

and yet bittersweet beauty intertwined.

***

Today I saw a wife of nearly 60 years

walk into a hospital room hoping for the best.

Instead, I saw her realize it was time to bring her love home.

To spend his last moments where he belongs.

She seemed so strong.

I was not.

I think she knew in her heart of hearts this day was to come.

I think the Lord prepared her dear heart. I’m glad he does that.

***

I saw a daughter,

my twin of a cousin,

hold her father’s hand knowing what was ahead.

She stayed at his side, rubbing his head so tenderly,

Talking in his ear whenever a move he would make.

He knew she was there.

He reached out for her hand and would weakly hold it with all his strength.

It calmed him.

She told him,  “I love you, Dad!”

He looked at her and whispered, “I love you more!”

They sweetly argued the point a few times back and forth, “Nuh uuh. I love you more.”

She rubbed his head and offered words of comfort.

Her words soothed his soul.

She told him they were taking him home today.

I think he wanted to go home.

Home to the familiar smells and sounds and loves of his world of many years.

Home to his family.

***

This girl spent the day holding his worn and frail hand.

It reminded me of my Papa’s hands. They were brothers.

I told him I loved him.

I cried a lot. I saw and heard him in pain.

I squished it all away to smile at him whenever he opened his eyes.

I didn’t think he knew who I was.

But he did.

He reached out for my hand and pulled me in.

I could see him look at me.

He called me by name and told me he loved me.

I told him I loved him, too.

He gave a kiss from behind his oxygen mask.

I wonder how it could be,  that three simple words can mean so much.

***

I think we are supposed to be a part of this season in life

rather than sending it and all its ugliness off somewhere

so we don’t have to feel the pain.

It is part of life.

And it is a different kind of good.

It is good to hold weathered hands

and rub weary brows

and say I love you a hundred more times.

***

This day fills my thoughts on my own final days.

As I watched my uncle’s daughter care for him so tenderly,

I could see my own daughter someday

and her deep pain and her great love.

God will be with her and my sons as He was with us today.

***

This girl doesn’t want to die in a strange room.

This girl wants to be at home.

With children telling our stories and shedding tears and mostly laughing.

With all the littles climbing around and being noisy and cute,

even if I don’t know they are being noisy and cute

or that they are even there at all.

This girl wants the faces of her dear ones

greeting her with their sweet faces

in the moments ones eyes are open,

For mingled in the pain and ugliness and sadness of death

there is a different kind of beauty

as we say our goodbyes.

***

Goodbye for now, sweet Uncle Art.

I look forward to holding your hand and telling you I love you once again.

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a sweet little photo shoot was had – Skelton family

Posted in family, photo sessions | 0 comments

Today this girl went on a spur of the moment photo shoot at the end of my street with some of my favoritest  of people ever.

Oh, my!

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these are my days – grounded

Posted in family, these are my days | 1 comment

This is what happens

when a boy and his ocean-loving friend

are grounded with ear infections after a week of serious ocean skimming,

while the lucky ear infection-less one surfs.

And, in case one was wondering,

 

these are Minecraft cakes.

 

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