Trust


Trust.  It seems inbred in the hearts and minds of little children whenever together with animals.  There is an unspoken bond of trust between them, triggered by instinct.  I take great delight in observing it, finding it nearly palpable.  Love and laughter, sharing, caring and trust.

Back in May of this year, my only grandson celebrated his first birthday during an outdoor party complete with a petting zoo.  His great-grandfather was able to join the celebration, traveling all the way from Arizona to make it extra special.  In an earlier post I wrote of the anticipation of such entitled, “Dads With Little Lambs.”  How lucky we were to have it land on a glorious spring day!  Blue skies matched the color of gemstones while a breeze gently puffed cool air through new born leaves dangling from ancient limbs of oak trees.

There was no ‘white picket fence’ surrounding baby animals that day.  Instead, children were allowed to chase chickens freely.  Chubby fingers touched new textures, repeating names of four-legged friends they had only met before in picture books or pieced together in chunky puzzle boards of primary colors.   Each child took turns petting spotted calves groaning, “M.O.O.” before skinny legs dressed in ruffles or blue jeans swung over saddles to take their very first pony rides.

Afterwards, the guest of honor was stripped naked, except for a diaper that seemed to match his new friend of black and white spots.  My grandson soon sat grinning on a huge sheet of plastic red.  It rippled and crinkled whenever he moved.  He loved the feel of it, I could tell!  Within seconds, a farm decorated Smash Cake , complete with miniature bright red barn appeared before his two enormous blue-watered eyes.  Murmurs traveled among those who sat on benches of wood behind picnic tables of green.  What would the birthday boy do?  Stick his finger to taste a treat of brown bunny frosting?  Or snatch and seize the biggest field of golden-colored corn he’d ever seen?

In the end, the big-little guy couldn’t contain himself.  He dove right in.  Head-first!  Exactly what his new animal friends had whispered silently to him minutes before.  “Go for it,” they had said, as only animal friends can do.   And so he did.

Trust….

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.

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More Than Best Friends – Anthology in aid of Guide Dogs For the Blind


Service dogs are invaluable to their owners in addition to loving family members who thank God for them each and every day. A great post from Sally Cronin to share with the whole of the world, if possible.

Lost and Found


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The road is long don’t be afraid,

Take my hand, hold it tight, laugh out loud, skip with me.

See the light way up high shining bright within the sky?

Smile so big, dance a step, happy to be you and me,

Kick some dust, cover your mouth, bless you now we’ll find our way,

Don’t give up trust in me and you will see.

 

Shuffle more steps, we’re almost there,

Claps your hands to say a prayer.

Tired now rest your head within my lap, 

We’ve come so far, let’s move along, kneel right down to get back up.

Brushing off clouds of dirt with poofs of dust

Soon the ball of sun may fall,

Stars will twinkle one and all.

 

When dogs sing songs don’t be afraid, 

A moon of white shall light our path.

Boots of leather kick the road, pebbles scatter, friends forever….

In the distance candles flicker, melting tears in windows of crying homes.

Curtains part hearing hearts begin to thump, skipping faster.

Pickets of weathered fences weave to wave within prairie winds.

Don’t give up trust in me and you will see.

 

Sisters…Friends Forever


Sisters…I’ve had them in my life for over fifty years. 

Middle’ Sister was born on a snowy Christmas Eve morn while little brother and I searched Santa’s treasures under whiffs of a fat needled tree.  Santa brought me a cherished doll that holiday.  Perhaps it was something to love me.  Soon Mama would be very busy with her own baby doll of new.

I remember hearing big tires drive-up on crushed pebbled stone.  Sound my ears heard before the car engine stopped.  Two heads peeked up and over the back of sofa springs to see out window panes in our itty-bitty house of asphalt shingled pink.

Through the front looking-glass, my budding brother and I saw Daddy-So-Young hurry to get out of our old weathered car.  Running to the other side, he opened Mama’s door.  Carefully, he lifted something from her arms.  What could it be?  Another gift for under the tree?  Cradling a pink bundle of newness in his big strong arms, Daddy helped Mamma gingerly step out onto that same crushed stone.  “Careful,” he said.

Inside our front door we gathered round our tiny living room.  The special Christmas present sounded like a mewing kitten.  Oh, how wonderful it would be!  No, beneath the pink flannel blanket lay tiny lids with lashes so long.  Creamy skin with yellow downy hair peeking out.  Snowflakes fell while melodies of Christmas Carols drifted from an old radio. Little brother saddled-up his rocking horse while “Chatty Cathy” looked at me from under silver tinsel smelling like pine.  I pulled on a white plastic “O” behind her head before carefully letting it go.  “I love you,” she said, over and over and over again.

Six years later my youngest sister was born on a fresh spring afternoon.  While laboring in the same hospital, my paternal grandfather lay dying of cancer a mere elevator button below.  Push…push.  Down, down.  My father’s heart broke with grief.  His own father’s life slipped away day by day.  Push…push.  Up, up.  Ecstatic joy.  God’s miracle bringing a very first cry of breath into this world.  Tears down cheeks…. Why now God, why?  The cycle of life.

It’s been many, many years since the three of us…. SISTERS…. have been able to get together…really together.  As adults, we have always lived so far apart from one another.  States apart.  Finally it was time.  An added plus was having my niece there to visit with us. She looks so much like her beautiful mother.  Truly, they look more like sisters themselves than mother and daughter.  Too, my brother-in-law was home as often as he could be.  The perfect host.  He cooked like a gourmet chef, drove us around like a limo-driver, and often laughed together with the rest of us.

It was the perfect time to relax, to talk and giggle from the deep of our bellies to the very tips of our toes.  We cried until we hugged in our little group of three while telling secrets of long ago.  Sometimes we bared our souls.  No longer little girls or young mothers who had dragged children across floors from pant legs, after all these years we had finally grown-up.

Chronic Conditions was a distant topic during this visit.  Various long-term illnesses have affected our families in one way or another throughout the years.  We empathize with each other and are bonded by them in a way.  Still, on this special visit, we got together without any specific plan or any list of things to do.  From one day to the next, we saw the world anew.

Each morning before the sun rose over my sister’s fence, I swam in her aquamarine pool.  The fresh cool water cleared the cobwebs from my mind while relaxing my body together with my spirit.  In the evening, the three of us sat by the candlelit water, talking until wee, wee hours of the morning while drinking red wine.  Afraid to go to bed, for fear we might miss something said!

Some days our merry group of three shopped in little boutiques for things we didn’t need but purchased ‘just because.’  We strolled along paths of Plano, Texas, stopping to taste the ice of gelato.  There, we let it melt until it slid down the back of our throats to cool the bottoms of our toasted, dry bellies.

One late afternoon, we discovered a delightful sidewalk café where guitar music strummed behind the wafting scents of Spanish food.  We ate a light appetizer while sipping the proprietor’s famous strawberry mojitos.  Such a nice waiter we had together with excellent service.  “Mariano” was his name, and I was proud to pronounce it like he did, with a roll of the tongue.  Ma..r’….iano.  No doubt, I repeated it more often than necessary.  So lyrical was the sound of his name.  Mariano.

My sisters and I had the most fun of all that afternoon.  Sitting in the open air with a slight blowing breeze we said whatever came to mind, without a care in the world.  We made patio friends with everyone!  “Mariano…”  Mariano….My youngest sister kept calling him “Mario.”  Silly we were by then.  I have to clarify by saying we are lightweights in the drinking department.  Although I dare say we had a better time than anyone on that outdoor patio, we drank no more than two drinks apiece!

Today, I am back to refreshed reality, but closer to my two sisters than ever before.  I can tell them anything.  They are and always will be my very best friends.  How I wish we lived closer to each other.  Until then, more trips like the one above are promised to each other each and every year.

Sisters…Friends Forever.