New Beginnings

Ahhh…new beginnings.  Soaking them in like a sponge in the sea.  While laying on my patio with sleepy eyes facing up my imagination sees the brightest blue ocean waving, “Good Morning.”   Yes, a teensy sail of white passing by.  There it goes….floating…..floating.

In real life, a turquoise watering can is filled to the brim.  Held in the right of my hand so heavy and full it nearly overflows.  Sprinkling ever so slowing…Yes, falling from tiny holes pierced through a round spout of white.  Cold, fresh and clear sustaining life to colors of new beginnings.

My annual painted pots, freshly planted last weekend sip straw rivers under the warmth of the sun.  I tend to them like newborn infants, gifts from God invisibly growing older each day.

To the side of a brown pot, a bright yellow petunia seems a bit taller today.  Nearby, greenery planted in an old bird-bath appears fuller and brighter in a way.  And, on my stoop of brick pavers, assorted flowers pushed to the depths of sooty earth sprout to shout words of inspiration to anyone who gives them a second glance…a smile…a chance.

A slight breeze of cool air whispers through trees of my little forest land.   There, new leaves of waxy green hang from limbs, sturdy and strong.  Hidden within, nests of new snug between two after a long season of winter.  Six different songs are heard from feathered friends while a woodpecker whittles away.

What is that I hear?  Look again to the sky.  There, a bright red cardinal flying by!

Ahhh…new beginnings!



Marathon Man and Team GB: A Personal Appeal from Me.

A great post to help educate others. Please help support little Reggie who lives with this Chronic Condition.  Cheers to finding a cure one day!  🙂

M T McGuire Authorholic

As you know, I don’t normally talk about my family, mainly because I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want to know about them and that they, in turn, would be absolutely horrified if I did. However, today, I’m going to make an exception. This is a personal post, about my brother, and at the end of it, I’m going to ask for your help. I aim to beg in an amusing way, without putting anyone under pressure, but if you think you’ll be uncomfortable with that feel free to make a swift exit!

Right, if anyone’s still here, on we go.

Today, I’d like to tell you about a very important event which my brother, Giles Bell: A prime examples of er,  middle aged athleticism if ever there was one; a man in the peak of physical fitness – see photo – is going to undertake with a team of other…

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Little Joys- Part 1

A delightful post to brighten your day!  Everyone has ‘Little Joys’ in their life. Often we take them for granted, not even bothering to notice.  Susan Korsnick brings us wonderful reminders of those surrounding her own.  What are some of the “Little Joys” in your life?

Susan Korsnick

There are so many little joys to be grateful for in life, treasured not for their grandness or “importance” but for the happiness they bring to each moment if we heighten our awareness of the present.  It’s easy to get wrapped up in obligations, multitasking to fit it all in.  But if we can stop and take time to notice, these little joys gift us with peace, a smile, and connection to all that is positive.

I’ve been recording some of the many little joys in my life via Instagram and Facebook but want to share them with my blog friends as well.  What Little Joys bring light to your life?

Art Supplies My art supplies… always beckoning me, inspiring me, and encouraging me to play.

Birdhouses My backyard bird haven… plenty of shelter, water, and food. Seeing them flit about happily brings me joy.

Coffee in the Morning That first cup of coffee in the morning…

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Dads With Little Lambs

In only a couple of weeks, days really, my father will visit from Arizona.  It will be the first chance that he’s had to meet four new great-grand-babies.  Four!  What will he say to faces smiling up at him so new and bright?  How will he feel rocking babes to sleep at night?

There are periods I long for my father’s presence.  Times when I wish he lived closer in order to pop in unexpectedly with my grand-girls.  The oldest at three, might show him her latest trick learned at gymnastics class.  Perhaps she’d stir invisible tea in a pink plastic cup or read books from her imagination?  A younger toddler would reach for him with both arms, begging to be picked up while baby twins would giggle and smile.  But, only for a while…..

My father will be here to celebrate his only great-grandson’s first birthday.  My son and daughter-in-law are having a small, barn-themed children’s party with a petting zoo.  Nothing big… a few baby animals.  Pink piglets with yellow fluffy chicks behind a fence of white.  Although, I do think there may be a woolly lamb that kids can actually touch with anxious little hands.

Recently, I told my father about his great-grandson’s birthday party while we chatted over the phone.  “Petting Zoo?” he stumbled, never having heard the term before.

It’s the little things I miss about having my dad so near.  It took me at least five minutes to explain the definition of a Petting Zoo.  And, just when I thought he understood, jokes came jostling over the line.  My dad has a very dry sense of humor.   Oftentimes, only his grown children can begin to understand it!

Below is an example of the conversation that followed.

“Wait a minute,” Dad said.  “A ‘Petting Zoo?  I don’t get it.  Will the kids be riding the lamb?”

“No, Dad,” None of the kids will be riding the lamb.

“Is there a small saddle, just in case?”

“I don’t think so,” I answered, chuckling. 

Sigh.  “Then, what does the lamb do?

“Nothing, Dad.  It’s for children to pet,” I answered, firmly. 

“Pet?”  What good is that?”

“Kids love animals, Dad.  They like to pet them.”

“They do?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.

“Yes, Dad.  I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, Honey.  Sure am looking forward to seeing you!  Hey, don’t worry about the saddle.  They’ve got them all over Phoenix.  I’ll ask around and bring one that will fit that little lamb, just right.”

“Okay, Dad, you do that.  Love you.”

“Love you too, Honey.  See you soon!”

*As my oldest grand-daughter would say, “Silly Great-Grandpa!”



Babies of Two

Babies of two held so dear breathing warm and close and near

Crying for needs that must be met

Exhausted blessings these gifts of mine

Miracles of God, I know it’s true!

Once two seeds in a pod, now hands of four reach for me

To touch my lips, mimic sounds, smile or even laugh out loud

Gazing in awe I am so proud.

Smallest fists to cherish with kisses on top one-by-one-by-one

Tufts of hair growing so fast, standing up straight sometimes formed into a single curl….

Lashes sweep long above four eyes of blue following every step I take

Blinking wide to sparkle and shine with looks that steal my heart and soul.

Teeny fingers gripping plastic rattles locked with colored sprinkles or

Holding baby lambs in woolly white touching gently with soft delight

Angel faces watching my every move

To the left or to the right

In shadows of darkness or the day of light

God give me strength, please hold my hand to walk with me

Help me be the very best….

With love to share and more to spare

Mama of miracles

My babies of two

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Baseball Season

*Yes, this has been posted before during the month of April.  But, it’s why I’m here in the first place.  The reason I began writing long ago.  Please take a second glance to think of little ones who need a chance.  Thank you.

Baseball Season!  The time of year when Little League games will soon begin!  I remember my husband buckling seatbelts around waists of toothless grins before closing the door to our minivan.  It was “Sign-Up Day,” at our county Athletic Association.

I’d like to say that playing sports isn’t any different for children living with Chronic Conditions.  Turns out, anything is possible with a positive attitude, determination, planning and a few adjustments.

In a small building on the busiest street in town, folding tables were set in a room of peeling paint.  At first glance, it looked as though a country wedding was about to begin.  Instead, there was a cardboard box of printed paper surrounded by an unspoken order.  Tiny boxes needed be checked under fluorescent lights of bright white.  Names and addresses and ages too, were to be added in lines of blue.

Days later, an official looking letter arrived.  Like the first day of school, it listed an assigned teacher (coach) together with a classroom (team).  My boys delighted in this.  Especially the name of their teams!  Raptors, Thunder, or Boys of Wonder?   It didn’t matter.  A Home Run had already been hit within their imaginations….

That first season started only weeks after my oldest was diagnosed with diabetes.  Mothers and others covered their mouths, back then.  They whispered behind my back, “Was it possible to play with his condition,” someone asked?  Yes, my son could play baseball!   I would figure out a way.  He was no different from any other little boy…..Besides, he was good with the ball and a quick runner.  He could steal bases faster than any other six-year-old on his team.   His coaches nicknamed him, “Jet.”   Once he started running, he didn’t stop.  This was two years before, Forrest Gump!

I’m not going to lie.  It wasn’t always easy.  Adrenalin made my boy’s blood sugar drop like the pitcher’s ball at home plate.   Oftentimes, I’d dash to the dug-out to prick his finger, checking a single drop of blood to see if his number was “low.”  If so, he’d drink a can of juice or eat some food brought from home.  Sometimes both.  Then off he’d go, out into the field of green to play and run and have some fun.  Or, maybe not.

My youngest son who lived with asthma, had obstacles too playing sports.  Exercise was a huge asthma trigger for him.  He used a preventive inhaler before each game.  Even at a young age, he was still a big ‘little’ guy who slammed the ball far over the fence.  After running around all three bases, he often had to sit out for an inning or more.  Holding his chest, he’d gasp for breath.  Deeply, he’d inhale white powdered medicine from his rescue inhaler.  So difficult for him to wait on the bench while his friends giggled in the dugout while tossing the ball.  Harder still not to breathe….

God taught me many lessons during the years my kids played baseball.  After all, I lived at the ball park from the first game in spring until the last one of summer.  In turn, both of my children learned important lessons too.  Living with Chronic Conditions didn’t stop them from being like any of the other kids on the team.  They simply had to do things a little differently.  Somehow, they found a way.

If your child lives with a chronic condition, do whatever it takes to make their dreams come true.  Encourage them to try.  Ask for help, pray to God and wish upon a star.  If you believe in their dreams, they will too.


Jayson Gosselin–Age 6 First Year of Little League

Jay Justin Baseball1



Justin-Age 7, First Year                               Jayson-Age 9

Jay Justin Baseball2 Jay Justin Baseball3


Jay Justin Baseball4  Jayson–Age 16, Freshman High School











Our Lady Spring

Lovely lines in this delightful spring poem by Cynthia Reyes, making us all wish for spring ‘soon to be!’

Cynthia Reyes

My Lady Spring, I must confess

Your absence causes great distress

Why does it take so long for thee

To come back here and stay with me?

Mallard on Wing Mallard on Wing

The sun shines brightly on the land

But winter makes its own last stand

At least I thought it was the last

Till winter whispered “not so fast!”

Blog Photo -  Blooming rhubarb

The tips of future tulip flowers

Came out expecting springtime showers

Then came a blast of wicked cold

And tulip shrank back in its fold.

Blog Photo - Alium Bloom

Our Lady Spring, we need you so

Oh Lady Spring, where did you go?

Come back, relieve our suffering

And I will make this offering

Spring Garden - Pink Bleeding Heart

No more complaints of rain and fog

No more complaints that we can’t jog

We’ll gladly tolerate the bugs

We’ll stand outside and give them hugs

Spring Garden - Hyacinths

Oh gosh, I just read what I wrote

I take it back, that buggy quote


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Unbreakable Bond

When God gave me the gift of my first child, I became whole.  I can’t explain it.  A feeling encompassed my body, mind and spirit.  It wasn’t expected.  Who knew?  While laying on an operating table below bright lights reflecting blood-red, a masked nurse in green scrubs held a screeching infant to my side.  Tufts of damp hair stuck to his head.  “It’s a BOY,” she said.

The infant’s crying suddenly stopped, as if a magic broom had been swept within.  Eyes of slate blue, shiny and wet stared straight through the two of my own.  This newborn child, swaddled and wrapped already knew me.  An enormous clock on the wall, white with black hands measured seconds, one-by-one.  Tick-tock, Tick-tock, Tick-tock….

Silence was broken.  Words were spoken.  “You can touch him,” whispered the nurse into the cold of my ear.  TOUCH HIM?  Yes, he’s mine…a boy….my son…my own.

Flat on my back, a single tentative finger reached to touch new skin of pink.  Wrinkled and fresh from my womb.  A miracle happened then.  The infant’s hand, no larger than my thumb opened wide to hold a small part of me.  Yes, we were joined forever now, together with all siblings who came after him.

There is an unspoken connection between mother and child that is felt upon birth.  A bond infinitely remaining within the mother’s soul.  Yes, she raises her children the best she can.  Hopefully they will grow strong, healthy and independent.  Perhaps she wishes for them to marry and have children of their very own one day?  With other dreams along the way…..

Yes, there will always be tiny spaces reserved inside a mother’s heart for her children.

Forever, until the day she dies.



Stepping onto the patio this morning reminded me of movie scene.  The genre with intriguing posters, enough to draw me in.  The sky was eerily colorless, with mist and fog surrounding everything my eyes could see.  When taking a breath of air, my lungs felt heavy and full.  Puddles remained on patterned bricks, while new bird feeders were tossed to the ground.  The evening before, it had rained the whole night through.  Deep thunder shook my home with walls rumbling from outside to in.

My son warned me about this week on Sunday.  He expected to work a lot of overtime at the Weather Service.  “How many days,” I remember asking him?  “Most of the week,” he answered, without missing a beat.  “Beginning on Tuesday.”

Within minutes the ceiling of the endless sky opened wide, showering the green grass while bending new flowers in half.  Raindrops fell hard and fast, turning to hail the size of marbles.  Regretfully, patio bricks were pummeled, chipping red pavers here and there. Nearly everywhere.

Suddenly a screeching sound was heard, startling Doodle dog and even myself.  There on my phone, an automatic alert.  Checking the text it read,  “Warning, Flash Floods Within Your Area.  Not Safe for Driving.”

With the coming of spring, I must accept the weather that accompanies it which often includes running to the basement without electricity.  Provisions are stashed in case of an emergency.  Flashlights, water, food and medication together with blankets and even a change of clothes.  Hopefully, they will never be needed.

Here in the mid-west we are all in for several new months of thunderstorms and lightening.  Hail, high winds, and even tornadoes are here or may be coming our way.  We accept many concessions with God’s gifts of the season.  Still, to feel warm sunshine falling on the naked of my face while passing the beauty of flowering trees during a walk with my dog.  That, together with watching the blooming of my mother’s yellow roses all seem like a very small price to pay.  At least on this day.


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