Tag Archives: life

Yours for the Taking

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Did we author the universe and tell the earth to spin? Was it we who put a firey orb in the sky and decorate the blue heavens with white fluff?

And was it our idea to spot the night sky with burning stars that twinkle, or cast an evening brilliance that lights the path of the night wanderer along his journey?

We did not mold the mountains from emptiness, craft rocks and hills, crevices and moors with our bare hands nor form the waters, stand from afar upon completion, and say that it was good.

Was it our fingers that planted the first seeds of the
first flowers on those first days and made miracles sprout
from a dry earth? Reds, yellows, purples, pinks. Did we fathom the colors of the rainbow and say it was so?

When the time came to partake of the beauty that surrounded us from North to South, East to West, did we sit and thank ourselves for such bounty?

We did not breathe life into dust and watch it take form, become a living, breathing being, with eyes that could see, a heart that now beat, and a mind that could discern right from wrong.


The birds of the air – intricate, delicate creatures of the sky – the circle of life – could we do that?

We stood in a garden, stood back and with pride, called it less than sufficient as we took a bite of the forbidden fruit.

We gave tribute to chaos. We took from the tree, called ourselves wise and instead – became foolish.

We are still fumbling with our food. We are still slow to realize that in each new day – a gift – we still stare truth in the face and turn and choose the lies of the infamous enemy, the plotter of deceit, the stealer of joy, the prince of darkness. When will we see that truth is easily seen each and every day, our just for the taking.

But we make it so hard, don’t we?

Instead of giving thanks, we think of how many good things we can do to win gratitude, appreciation, approval. We think of all the reasons truth cannot be true. We find other things less worthy to invest our time and talents, our worship, our works, our praise, our attention. Lesser things. Things.

The gifts are free. They come from the hand of one who holds everything in His hand. There is no price, no hidden hoops to hop through, no secrets that haven’t been told. He waits, not with deceptive fruit, but with blessings untold. He waits with arms held open wide. He waits for you. Just you. To give all – His all – for you.

His,
Sherri

Welcome Home, Neva

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Life begins. A squirming bundle of skin, filled with a will and spirit all its own. Drinking from the breast of the one who bore it, it begins to stretch and grow. It cries. It squeals. It is silent and looking. Looking here. Looking there. Everywhere it scans shadows that come into view. Everywhere light filters in gently and brings blur into focus. The squirming bundle grows more.

The squeals turn to innocent screams that stem from rubber running against pavement as she follows a ball in play. Screams of joy. Screams of a win. Screams of fun. Screams of pain as innocence hits pavement and blood gushes from a wounded knee.

A doctor’s visit. Another kiss on the knee. A bandage is applied and pulled over top of an owie and another kiss is given. Carried out in the arms of love, the once squirming bundle is almost too big to carry. Big enough to milk the cow, big enough to gather hens’ eggs, big enough to argue. Not so big to hold, not so big to kiss goodnight, not so big to set straight.

She comes home from school. Excited about her ‘A’ in chemistry, excited about her upcoming role in ‘The King and I’ and more excited that her very first crush will be playing the role of King Mongkut of Siam. Shortly after, dreamed up kings and future queens are left in the dust for college where she meets true love and shortly after receives her degree as a nurse.

It could have been like that, I suppose, if you change a few details. But the reality? She gives her love and gentleness away every day. She touches lives she will never know were healed through her hands. Lives that were lifted by her spirit. Lives that were comforted by the words carefully chosen and mouthed by her lips. Like the fragrance of the flowers in the garden she tends, her roses, dahlia and delphiniums, lilacs, lavender and more – the scent of her character is remembered in the minds of those she has touched.

With all the busyness, with all that is called life, where is this contentment that she yearns to lie down upon and call home?

She lives through the hardships of life. Death has shadowed her with grief countless times as she has walked the halls of her ward. Tears have wet her cheeks more times than she can remember. Cries of pain have echoed in her mind more than she can forget.

She lives through the joys of life. Bringing the squeal of the new, two-fold, seeing it repeated once again with the birth of her granddaughters. Beautifully they grow, at the feet of her wisdom, by the unconditional love of her heart.

She buries her husband and with another fistful of dust to dust, a few years later – she buries her son.

She smiles as a great grandson emerges from the womb and screams life anew. Digging dirt holes and driving metal trucks, he is the music in her spirit. He is the joy of her heart. He is the savior of the moment. Dawdling in the garden, he snips with her the old life to make way for the new.

Home – is it here amidst the buds and the blooms? Is it in the sweat that drops upon the earth as she tills the ground? Is it inside the multitude of boards that stand erected in the distance, holding treasures of the past?

She knows when to be quiet, she knows when to speak. She discerns the ways about her and stays sheltered in the wisdom of her God. She lives His words and gives what she learns. Those that know her are blessed.

Her body, now aged, summons life to stop its circle and as the ends of the sphere near completion, she lays quiet upon her bed, silently bidding farewell to the shadows of the past is ushered into the holy presence of her Prince.

This moment. This joy. This feeling of rebirth – this is what she has lived for. This is the contentment that can’t be found in earthly dwellings or savored relationships.

This is the moment. This is the joy. The end of the race. This is what pain and sorrow fight for.

He reaches to take her hand. She steps from the old and into the new. With His arms she is welcomed. Through His lips he whispers, “Well done.” With His hands He places a crown upon her head.

She is home. She is finally home.

A Christmas Poem by A Debatable Author

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My dad received this from a friend and sent this to me – it’s incredible. The author, unfortumately, is debatable. However, whoever wrote it, thank you. You, the reader, will be blessed…

A Different Christmas Poem

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.

The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn’t quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.

Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

“What are you doing?” I asked without fear,
“Come in this moment, it’s freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!”
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts…

To the window that danced with a warm fire’s light
Then he sighed and he said, “Its really all right,
I’m out here by choice. I’m here every night.
“It’s my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I’m proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ‘ Pearl on a day in December,”
Then he sighed, “That’s a Christmas ‘Gram always remembers.”
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ‘ Nam ‘,
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I’ve not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he’s sure got her smile.”
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue… an American flag.
“I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.”

“So go back inside,” he said, “harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I’ll be all right.”
“But isn’t there something I can do, at the least,
“Give you money,” I asked, “or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you’ve done,
For being away from your wife and your son.”

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
“Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we’re gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.”

PLEASE, would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many
people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our
U.S service men and women for our being able to celebrate these
festivities. Let’s try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people
stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us.

Life’s Disappointments

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I am writing this for Saturday morning, for the iTeam.

The iTeam is a group of four women, of which I am one. We all met on the internet, via support groups for PD. We were all meeting today in Georgia for the Young Onset Parkinson’s Disease Conference slated for this weekend. I say ‘were meeting’ for now, I am not. I missed my flight.

Sure, I shed a few tears. Well, maybe several. However, I didn’t sob. I didn’t swear. I didn’t give the employee who sent six people with tickets in their hands, ready to check in – all be it with 45 minutes until take off – I didn’t give him an icy stare or think bad thoughts in my head. (Those emotions will come later -ha). Yet, I was surprised at my immediate reaction.

Getting mad, passing blame will not make this better, and God works all things together for good to those that love Him and are called according to His purpose.

Wow. Where did that come from? I guess I’m growing up – a little bit – again. Nevertheless, I am disappointed. Disappointed that I will not get to meet these three women who have become very dear to me. Disappointed that I will not hear the talk about DBS (Deep Brain Stimulation) that my doctor is recommending that I have done within the next year. Disappointed. Just plain disappointed. And yet… I am joyful.

I went to see my neurologist last week and he asked his normal questions. Someone usually goes with me to these appointments to be my personal memory assistant. That day, my husband went. At one point, he had to leave the room and as he closed the door behind him, my doctor turned to me and said, “Good. I feel like you can never say what you want when someone is here. So tell me, how are you doing? How are your moods?”

For those of you that are not very familiar with PD, depression is one of the main symptoms we get to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

“You have a lot of reasons to be down right now.” Then, he actually listed all the reasons I had to be down as he counted them on his fingers. (He’s got a great memory!)

“Your husband’s out of work. Your daughter just graduated and is trying to find a job to pay her loans. Your son and his wife just moved away with your new granddaughter. Your other son is trying to find his way through life. You have PD.”

That’s just what he knew! As he listed them, I thought, ‘Yeah! I do have every right to be down!“

I looked at him and then answered. “I do have a lot of reasons to be down right now, but I still feel joyful.”

I still feel joyful. In spite of my disappointment today, there is joy. There is joy because I have hope. I have hope because I believe God works all things together for good. I believe that He works all things together for good because I know that He loves me and knows what is best for me.

For some reason, I didn’t make my flight. For some reason God had other plans. I may find out what they are or I may not. Regardless, I believe that whatever the reason, it is the best.

Excuse me while I answer my phone…

Well, I have to go – my son was just in an accident.

I’m back…

He’s okay. An older woman hit his car. Hmmm… I wonder if that’s one of God’s reasons.

Nehemiah 8:10 says, “Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.“

It’s true. I choose not to grieve over my disappointment because He is my joy and my strength and I hope that this day you find joy and strength in Him, as well.