Hands Full of Sunshine

Gifts from a Small Boy

His small hands overflowing
with sunshine-tinted bloom,
He quietly, half-shyly,
tiptoed into the room;
"These posies are for you, " he said,
then hurrying through the door,
Left me with more than flowering wreath,
so much - O, so much - more!

Katherine Edelman

I've loved this simple poem, found in a little book of poetry that belongs to my mother, for as long as I can remember.

Long before I ever had small boys of my own I was enchanted by this verse.

Maybe it's because I was meant to be the mother of these treasures who think of me when flowers
bloom and bring me these offerings of heavenly scent and color.

Yes, always plucked too short for a normal size vase but perfect for the one I've kept just for this purpose
and which now resides on my dresser in my bedroom.

Photos: Grape Hyacinths plucked by son, Marcus, from amongst my tulips in the backyard garden.

I feel it
for the first time
during the quiet pause at noon day
as we gather 'round for the reading of the Word.

It's a definite little fluttering of life
deep within the secret place of my womb
and I smile quietly to myself
reveling in the feeling.

It's been so long since
I've experienced this special joy
this delight
this unique form of communication.

My hand finds the place over swelling womb
and I silently thank my God
for His promise of new life
the opportunity to experience this joy

yet again.

17 weeks pregnant

Finding Joy Fridays is sponsored by my dear friend Camie @ My Life in a Blog. Head on over to her blog for more links to finding joy.

And I am in Love.

My heart is full, overflowing,
basking in moments,
tender pockets of time,
strung together throughout
the quiet, simple days of my life.

When three small boys
snuggle in close
cheeks resting on shoulders
of one next to them.
Anticipating, imagination kindled with
words I read from classic books.
Entreating voices,
"Just one more chapter!"

When I snuggle in close
and my cheek rests
on muscled shoulder
after long day apart
And when his fingers
gentle, but strong,
travel up and down my back
during slow hug hello

I close my eyes, smile,
breath deep heart swells
And I am in love
with this life, these children,
this husband, His Grace

****

Just thinking about Valentine's Day and all the thoughts of love it brings with it and how I am so blessed to be able to celebrate life and love with those special lives in my home. Those ones I hold close to me each day of the year. May I never forget or take for granted the beauty and treasure of what I have.
May your February 14th be filled to overflowing with love that continues all year. Enjoy your Valentines!
Instructions for the Valentine Heart Garland

Poetry... to me...

What is poetry?

Seeing your child dancing in drifts
of winter white and joining him
Laying side by side, together,
on the floor, doing puzzles

Laughing, heads thrown back
in absolute surrender with joy
Sobbing, heads together,
arms around close, with sorrow

Moments strung together
along this thread called life
Relationships in happy chaos,
aching beauty, ...pain

This is poetry...
Being one with each other.
Us, united,
in this glorious wonder.

Where my Soul is Found...

I found my soul

amongst a carpet of purple
violets down in the little glen

off the side
of that lonely gravel road
where moss and ferns mingled
with dancing rays
drifting through green above.
I plucked a single bloom then
and inhaling scent of wild outdoors
brought it home and placed it
between crisp pages of
life giving words.

It was there is the shadows
amongst the quiet stillness
that I remember feeling
the first faint stirrings
from deep within.
Thoughts of who I was
and who I was created to be
permeated my childlike mind.

There in the solitude
I lay back
and slowly began to appreciate
my surroundings... myself
and all that my loving Creator
had fashioned just for me.

It was from that experience
that I first began to write
childish words strung together
trying to capture
in my own small way
that single moment in time.
I still have those words
tucked away between pages
beside faded bloom.

Reaching back to that day
pulling it out from
recesses of memory
I realize that
this is who I am.
This is where I find my soul.
In the beauty of creation
the joy of creating,
in the beauty of my children
and the love of my beloved,
for me, his bride.

I am created by Beauty,
with beauty and for beauty.
This is who I am.
Here is where my
soul is found.

.....................................................................................................................................................

Related posts:
Seedlings in Stone... L.L's ...Unfolding Imagination
1Adventure... Ben's Find Yourself
This poem was written by me. Please do not copy.

Love Amazing

Once upon a time she dreamed...
of babies and blankets, of home and happiness,
playing for hours in attic room were vaulted ceiling hugged in close,
and rows of shoe boxes along the wall held baby dolls
tucked tight for naps.

Then she grew, put dolls away
for bigger and better...her prince had come.
Four years later, happiness...finally... a precious tiny baby.
And as years went by, another and another...
and then, lo and behold... another!

But something happened, then,
to shatter hopes and scatter dreams.
That little treasure tucked within...
passed away... and life would never be the same.

Through darkness of sorrow, though, and wounded soul,
she felt comfort and love like never before.
That love, of her Heavenly Father,
so strong and pure, so true and gentle.

And she knows he will never leave her, so she lives again,
gathering pieces, thanking him for her earthly prince
and their heritage of three,
resting in her Father's arms, looking to the day...

That day when she will see her child
for the first time
in that beautiful place
of happily ever after.

:::::

On July 15 of 2007 I miscarried at 10 weeks gestation. I have wanted to write my feelings about this ever since, in a way that would show just how much I felt the powerful presence of God and his amazing love during this heartache in my life... and so this is it. I am thankful to finally have it written out... my heart thoughts put into words... so that I will never forget how deep is the Father's love for me.

:::::

Related post by L.L. Barkat at Seedlings in Stone.
Photo: I'm on my way to the ball... June 2008

I'm Seeing... Noticing...

The sun shone brightly that whole Sunday afternoon, so

bundled up against cold wind, camera in hand, I headed out unto the prairie to see what I could see...


...to find beauty in nature and to praise God in the beauty.

As I walked... and looked... and listened, I kept sensing His Word from within,

"The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the work of his hands" Ps. 19:1

From the icy patches of frozen crystals hovering upon golden strands...

...to the skies of blue where the winds stretch clouds across the expanse like lengths of white cotton candy.

I see.

When I close my eyes and face the wind,
ice cold against rosy cheeks,
and I lift my head to catch rays of light...

I feel...

He is here... the whole earth is filled with his glory.

Wandering over drifts of snow, hardened into icy mounds six ... even 8 feet, at times... above the ground, I am amazed and in awe of the way the wind has sculpted these flakes into different waves of beauty white.

I stop often and gaze far out into the open...

across the fields to the horizon, marveling

at the freedom these wide spaces allow me to feel...


... then down at my feet where goose down feather is captured amongst the tangle of matted grass.

I peer close, upon my knees, to see in detail the soft white... the movement

as it struggles to escape.


I freeze the moment within my lens, then pick it up and let it fly on wings of wind

for seconds in time before it drifts again to ground below.

That little burst of flight causes my breath to catch...

so much like I feel right now.

Outside, alone...

in the silence, wind and sunlight.

I love this...

...this seeing which adds so much depth to my days.

I'm seeing things along this walk that I have passed many times...

but for the first time I am noticing.

Two perfect rows of trees.

The round of barbed wire, forgotten under grasses grown tall.

A weathered barn, framed by branches stark against the winter sky.

The rusted red chipped paint of bygone days.

And I thank my God for this opportunity to open my eyes and take in the wonder that surrounds in simple every day things.

I need not go far... to places unknown, for he has provided in every place, in every adult and child, in every sense...

beauty.

:::::

Related posts:

Laure's "The 9 o'clock evening hour"
L.L. Barkat "writer must see"

The Hayloft

I close my eyes and I can still see the way the tiny particles of dust
danced within sunlight streams, spilling through gaps of old in the loft of that hip roof barn.
Where many hours of childhood bliss were passed
amongst the sweet scent of dried grass, warm and tickling against our skin.

In the quiet of this memory I can still hear the soft coo of pigeons
perched way up high in the rafters overhead
the quick, sudden flutter of wings as they flit from one beam to another.
I feel the comforting vibration of kitten warmth in lap of legs crossed Indian style.

I feel the wonderful sense of belonging amongst the voices of my brothers, sisters... family.
These companions that call back and forth to one another
through tunnels of bales, dark and dusky, we'd built for each other
...our play homes.

I remember, too, some days when the sun would not shine
and the rain would pour down, pitter-patter on roof of tin
and the only light shone dimly
from single bulb above.

Then we would fly on rope secured way up overhead.
Soar from top of stack to dusty boards below and back up again,
clinging desperately, but with delight,
to that length of braided string.

Within the sanctuary of this place, these moments ran deep.
I was free. Safe to be myself...Complete.
Is not this what we all long for?
Why memories such as these are so sweet?

:::::

This poem was written by me in response to another challenge going on over at Seedlings in Stone. L.L. gave us the phrase, "I close my eyes and I can still see"... and asked us to write.

I have done so, and I hope you have enjoyed. (smile)

:::::

Above photo taken of a painting I own by Jim Daly. I pray that memories such as these will be instilled within my own three precious boys.

If Memories were Sparrows...

If memories were sparrows
I'd capture them,
finally.
Those who,
wild and unexpected,
flit in and out of my mind.

They need to be sorted
gone over, studied.
They need to be separated,
those good from those bad.

It's time,
though hard,
to destroy.
To once and for all
remove forever,
those whose presence
deadens the heart.

The good, then,
may come and go
with a will of their own.
They may be looked upon
with a sweet expression,
may be touched and caressed.

Those sparrows may alight upon me
without fear
of my cringing in horror.
Alas, if memories were sparrows
life would be...good.
For we, then, would decide
what could not remain
and what could.

:::::

Thanks to L.L. Barkat for her inspiration. She posted a challenge here to finish a poem from which she had written the first line... hence "If memories were sparrows..."

I am new to writing poems.... haven't written them since high school English class, and now this is my second one in just a few days! You can read my other one entitled "In the Stillness" here.

L.L. has a wonderful post here on the process of writing a poem. She has been such an encouragement to me. If you have any desire whatsoever to write something like this go check out her blog for more information.


Google image of sparrow found here.

In the Stillness...

The tears were close that winter evening
as we gathered round for dinner warm.

When Words were read and prayers were said
I slipped into the night,
an escape into cold dark, desperate for silence
from chattering boys and child songs,
a walk to the fields of open prairie.

Sparkling snow, icy crunch under feet,
mind in turmoil, questioning...

"Where are You? In the messy chaos of my fallen life?"

Then...
a still small voice within depths of soul
as I gaze into the starry expanse,
"Be still...
and know."

Silence...
mind clears, beauty surrounds, heart aches,
and I surrender.

I still... and know.
He is God.
He loves me, even me.

In this space of busy young ones,
whirling household ...life,
I must take time to still, to rest...
in Him.

:::::

This poem was written by me. Please do not copy without permission.