The Face of My Mother

She looks in the mirror and reflected in place
Are the colors and lines of a woman’s face
The brow, nose and lips are a delicate shell
Comprising a history of stories to tell

Her eyes see the humor in life each day
At times they hold sorrow for things gone astray
They see hope without doubt and love without fail
And compared to their warmth, all else is but pale

Her nose is a creature that is sly and wise
It embraces sincerity and sifts out the lies
The smell of home or her garden of flowers
Remind her of joy in its simplest power

Her lips form a multitude of shapes for her life
They’ve parted in laughter; pulled taught through strife
The tones from beneath can be chiding or nice
Full of secrets and wishes, and treasured advice

Her wisdom and faith can be seen in the lines
Bearing honor and grace, aged perfect through time
For the character and features unlike any other
Are the beauty and love in the face of my mother

For my mother, Carol Jean.

I love you, Mom.

Pop-Pop

His overalls were faded blue and oil-stained
And had dirt and grease smears on the seat
An old John Deere cap sat crooked on his brow
And a toothpick was always between his teeth

He feigned surprise and fear at the word “boo”
And he’d give me shiny pennies for good luck
I loved bouncing around next to him on the seat
As we drove around the farm in his old truck

Bellowing from the pew in church on Sunday
Above all others his bass voice would ring
He was talented; a naturally gifted musician
And he could make any instrument sing

I fascinated in watching him concentrate
As his hands and his fingers shook
While he set up an old skinny bamboo pole
And threaded twine through a fishing hook

His grin was enhanced with certain wisdom
And years of laughs and earned wrinkles
His voice and gestures could animate a story
As his eyes held those mischievous twinkles

He loved to piddle and tinker around in his shop
To fix up machines and old engine parts
And a puttering rusty red riding lawn mower
Made for a mighty fine kid’s go-cart

Like a hawk, he’d watch me use his pocketknife
As he instructed me on how to whittle a stick
Afterwards I sit on his lap in his rocking chair
While we sipped a root beer and talked for a bit

He’d tickle me till I had tears in my eyes
From laughing and having so much fun
And he could pull a quarter from his pocket
Faster than a cowboy could draw his gun

He let me sneak popsicles from the freezer
And taste range cubes and chicken feed
My favorite place was next to him in the garden;
He’d scoop out the dirt and I’d drop in a seed

He hung up a rope from the rafter in the barn
So I could swing high and land in the hay
He gave the best horsey rides around on his back
And he never seemed too tired or busy to play

His hands were rough with scars and calluses
Weathered from hard labor over time
And though my hands were small in comparison
I remember how gently his held onto mine

The years that separated us never seemed to matter
For he was my hero, and I was his Kellie Jean
The bond between a grandfather and his special girl
Was unbreakable; one nothing could come between

In November ’04 he left behind a legacy of family
When his spirit went home to Heaven above
There will never be another like my Pop-Pop;
A generous soul of extraordinary friendship and love

Withered Rose

Time is an endless circle, forever spinning round
One day it lifts you high, the next it pulls you down
The ground beneath my feet shall fail and I know I will fall
And lonely is my sacrifice; I fear I have no time at all

Day breaks though my window and I begin to breathe
I reflect my unseen shadow and the mirror just sees me
My soul is trapped within my skin, in a trench that is my heart
All of life has left me in a world of pain and dark

The music rapt within my head is missing and unheard
I dance behind these hollow eyes and sing with silent words
I create a world where hours go by and days turn into years;
Held captive by this dwelling pain and shielded by my tears

I mourn for all my withered roses now replaced with scorn
The joy that was my blooming wish now bears its ugly thorn
The reverence that my soul desires is just beyond my reach
And I long to heal the suffering of the child inside I seek

Father Time shall come once more and take away my sin
Mother Earth shall cast my pride afar and bury ashen skin
My heart will be complete again as Heaven unties her hands
I begin a life, renewed and whole, to emerge from sacred lands

Country Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas
When we all gathered ‘round
To open the presents
From Santa, we’d found

The stockings weren’t hung
By the chimney with care
(‘Cause Mom put ‘em away last year
And couldn’t remember where)

I, in my Aggie shirt,
Furry house shoes and jeans
Had eaten so much
I was bursting at the seams

The little dogs were happy
To hoover the floor
From the tidbits we’d dropped
Only moments before

My BlackBerry was handy
To take pictures of the fam
While Chad roamed the room
With his video cam

Dad sat in the recliner,
Like a king on his throne
As Jen sorted loot
Into piles of our own

Mom wore her apron
As she sat by the tree
And Aislynn kept asking,
“Can we open them? Pleeeeease?”

Soon ribbon was flying
As we all looked inside
To reveal the big secrets
The wrapping helped hide

We oohed and ahhed
At the treasures we’d found
As I soaked in the laughter
And smiled at the sound

There, in that room
With my loved ones so dear
I realized I’m blessed
To have them all near

And then I reflected
From earlier that night
When we’d attended church service
And sang by candlelight

The kids marched on stage
To perform in the play
Complete with a manger,
A doll, and real hay

Their smiles were nervous
As they all took their place
And there was always that one
Who stared off into space

Or had forgotten his lines
Or sang a little off-key
Or mumbled, or shouted,
“Hey, Mom, look at me!”

What a joyous message
About Bethlehem’s star
And some wise men that traveled
From kingdoms afar

They fell on their knees
To worship a boy
Who’d give us salvation
And bring the world joy

Mary and Joseph
Would watch over Him
Until the day came
When He’d die for our sins

I thought about the life
That was given to me;
My wish is for everyone
To see what I see

So let the spirit we feel
During this season of cheer
Overflow from within us
To last the whole year

For the hope that surrounds us
And the gifts we bestow
Was given to us first
So many years ago

Our most gracious Father
Gave us unending love
In the form of a Savior
From Heaven above

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Well…I had high hopes of going to sleep tonight. That plan is shot to hell. I even took a sleep aid. It figures that it would have an adverse effect on me. Instead of sleeping, I feel like running up and down the freeway.

As I type this, it is now 1:52am.

Why does everything in life seem so ominous during the night? I’ve literally been tossing and turning for the last couple of hours. My mind is so bogged down trying to absorb things. And not only am I grasping for explanations, but within that existential yearning for answers lies of list of about a thousand things to do.

Life took a big turn for me this week.

I’ve been steadily listening to hard rock for the last few days in an effort to drown out the shouting that’s going on inside my brain. I attempted some Christmas music this afternoon – well, actually yesterday afternoon – but after a while it only made me feel forlorn. The screaming guitars and drum pounding seems to parallel my thoughts. It’s a better fit for my frame of mind. I am overwhelmed with fear, hope, anxiety, anger, and have laughed hysterically with disbelief. I feel like I have experienced the grandfather of all roller coasters this week.

What scares me is that I’ll run out of track up ahead.

Before I deduced that sleep might be a lost cause, I found myself lying in my bed, envisioning a transparent ceiling so that I could gaze at the stars. I used to do that when I was little. It always amazed me how vast and endless the night sky was. As a tiny child, I was fascinated with the great unknown. I was invincible. I was going to conquer the world. I just hoped there was room enough in it to contain me.

Now, as an adult, I just feel tiny. Insignificant. Alone.

The things that went bump in the night used to terrify me. Now, they remind me of reality. The lulling sounds of the household appliances, or the rustling of leaves outside my window, the gentle whooshing breeze from my fan…all of these things should sing me back to sleep with their own musical montage. But, instead, they remind me that even if tomorrow brings the sunlight, it also brings a dose of certainty. Bills to pay. Decisions to make. Life, for whatever length I’m allowed, to keep zooming past me as I’m trying to keep up. I can't afford fairy tale dreams anymore.

My dreams of princes and castles in the sky have been replaced by cars with no brakes, falling while trying to run away, and searching endlessly for a faceless person.

Maybe the faceless person is me. I’m trying to find myself. Always. Like a game of chess; strategizing. Agonizing over every move to achieve victory. And just when I think I’ve got the game figured out…checkmate.

**sigh**

Regardless, it’s all part of a plan. Every moment in is merely a small piece to fit a larger puzzle. A trial, or a lesson meant to teach us to lean. Or be a rock for someone else. Sometimes it’s tiring to hold my chin up. To be strong. Some days I’d just like to curl up in a fetal position, in a quiet dark room, and cry for a while. A good, cleansing cry.

The hour is quiet now. And dark. Perhaps I should try and put my head down to try and dream again. I’d like to mentally regress for a brief time. When my mind didn’t carry the worries it does now. I’d like to see through my child eyes, picturing outer space…

Beyond my ceiling are shooting stars. I might not see them, but my imagination has painted them a breathtaking arc of light across a velvet midnight.

I have some wishes in mind.

Make it Count

Hello, Wednesday. Ahhhhh…you bring the promise of Friday in just two short days. Bless you hump day. Bless you.

The wind today is treacherous. I swear the moment I stepped outside I felt like it was gonna blow the skin right off my bones. I’m crossing my fingers that it will blow a huge, freezing, snowy blizzard smack dab into central Texas. In fact, I’d like for that to happen right now.

I’m waiting…

Well? (I'm not impatient or anything.)

Driving my car in it was quite a task, too. Not to mention the fear of driving next to a gargantuan eighteen wheeler carrying a load of chickens on their way to chicken heaven. His trailer was swaying all over the road and feathers were blowing everywhere. It looked a little bit like snow. But the smell…definitely not pure and delicate.

So, Old Man Winter, where are you? You’ve given us a few cold spells, but I’m ready for the kind of weather that turns my fingertips blue. The kind that requires a fabulous hat and scarf, and a trendy jacket. Maybe some matching boots. (Santa, I’m referring to the ones I mentioned in my earlier blog.)

I’m ready for a lit fireplace and a roaring, Arctic wind outside.

…sentimental and handcrafted ornaments adorning the tree
…the smell of cinnamon and hot chocolate drifting through the house
…baking cookies and homemade bread

...jingle bells heard through a crowded distance
…rosy children’s cheeks

...colorful wrapping paper

…Jim Reeves flowing from the stereo

Hmmm, sounds like I’m ready for Christmas.

The holiday spirit has soaked into my skin now. I’m looking at it very differently this year. Gift-giving aside, I will treasure the time I have with my family. What a comfort to sit in a room with the familiar smells and sounds of loved ones. One of my favorite quotes from a child: “Love is what’s in the room at Christmastime when everyone stops opening presents and listens.” Indeed.

I can’t wait for the Christmas Eve children’s program at church, followed by the candlelight service. And singing “Silent Night” in German. How special the privilege is to be alive to celebrate the birth of our Savior. He was/is/forever-will-be the promise of salvation and hope. My ultimate wish this year is for those who don’t know Him to discover His love.

Good luck to all of you out there who haven’t finished your shopping yet. I’m right there with you. My middle name should be “procrastination”. I hope while you’re mingling in the crowded chaos that you don’t forget to embrace the true reason for this season.

Don’t wait until the holiday to tell your loved ones how special they are. Hold them close – in your arms and in your heart. And cherish the time you have with them.

Count the moments that take your breath away. And make each moment count.

Uphill

Whoa. Talk about a blast from the past. It's amazing the things you find...in the top of the closet...in your old bedroom...in your parents' house.

I wrote the following poem when I was sixteen.

Uphill

When life is hard and your burdens are many
And an effort is needed to smile,
Remember to count your blessings;
Let God be in charge for a while.

Look for the silver lining that’s hiding
Behind those gray clouds in the sky.
Mr. Sunshine is waiting to pick up his brush
And paint a big rainbow up high.

Your feet might be bare on a road full of thorns;
Step wisely throughout the terrain.
Those rough spots are little reminders
Of the wisdom and knowledge you’ll gain.

So keep going when you feel like giving up
For your purpose is just up ahead,
Or around the corner and through the gloom;
You’ll find grace on the path you’ve been led.

You shall not falter and your steps will not fail
As you struggle uphill on the road.
The weight of the world is light as a feather,
For God helps to carry your load.

The poem might be over a decade old, but the message is timeless. Hopefully, I'll remember it when it counts.