Sitting in our living rooms
with wall to wall carpets
imported from China.
Nibbling fruit from Mexico
eating nuts from Brazil.
We watch our Sony TV
but switch off the news.
The world is too scary
movies are much better.
What’s Your Heaven?
Mine would be working in the nursery with the babies and the little ones, rocking them all night until the sun came up…
Having my morning coffee with my children and my grandchildren, hoping that they would know by the breeze that ruffled their hair that I was close by.
Visiting my sisters, dropping in on my friends, blessing them with rain drops and rainbows. Checking in on my honey at bedtime, to tuck him in and make sure that he is doing okay.
Wandering through fields and fields and fields of flowers, while the sun played
peek-a-boo with the clouds.
Standing underneath a summer rain, dancing and swaying to the rhythm of the raindrops.
Taking naps on the clouds, sculpturing them into beautiful sights to behold. Angels and puppies and babies, oh my!
And one thing you can be sure of, there would always be music in my ears.
I would sing and my voice would be that of an Angel. I would sing all day and nobody would tell me to be quiet.
I would be dancing in the sky whenever my loved ones looked up and I would be beside them giving spirit hugs whenever they fell down.
I would surround my loved ones with a pink bubble of love and a yellow bubble of happy.
I would cheer for their wins and comfort their pain.
I would be the butterfly that kissed their cheeks.
I would be the spring dandelion that catches their eyes.
I would just be. Me.
What’s your heaven?
dancing in sunshine
The Blooms We Leave Behind
As we are blooming bright, beautiful, young and strong, remember that young and strong will fade, and the real beauty is you and it comes from the inside out through the petals we show the world.
When we leave this world, we must leave behind memories of our strength and our beauty for our children.
Today as you water your blooms and trim your branches, remember, what you do today is what your children will remember tomorrow.
When you are gone, they will have nothing but memories so make each memory a beautiful one and as to the ones that are filled with pain, because we all have those too, try to heal them before you go.
Love does not conquer all but it is a wonderful balm to put on wounds.
Nothing, nothing is stronger than a mother’s love however screwed up and twisted she may be at times…she loves you with every inch of her being.
Your mother’s love for you is the beauty, even the faded, dried-out twisted blooms have beauty beyond compare and the dried-out blooms have value if only to remind you of her beauty when she was in full bloom…
As you bloom today, prepare for what you leave behind. tomorrow. What have you planted in your garden?
What needs to stay and what needs to go?
Don’t hold on to what has already died.
Nurture the living blooms while you have time, because to each flower, there is a season and to everything but love, there is an end.
Jeanne Marie, 2015
Like the clouds in the sky, we travel through life, sometimes with a purpose and sometimes just drifting. Sometimes we are storm clouds and sometimes we are happy clouds. Sometimes our lives connect and we hold onto each other, until life pulls us apart again. Those moments of connection are the moments worth waiting for…
Life and Death
Recently, my nephew lost his battle with the family illness, alcoholism.
He was the oldest grandchild in our family and the very first baby I fell in love with, a passion that has stayed with me ever since. My three siblings and I have never lost a child, so this is a first for us and we are struggling to accept that he is really gone.
Although I was only 12 when he was born, my sister asked me to be his godmother. He was a gorgeous baby and by the time he was a year old, he had long blonde curls all over his head. I loved those curls. When he got his first haircut, I was devastated. I begged his mom not to cut his curls, but his dad thought he looked girly and he insisted on the haircut. I remember being so mad at both of them and I remember crying for days over the loss of his baby curls.
My sister lived at home when he was born, so he and I spent many nights snuggling and playing. I remember his colic and I remember all the nights I held him close to my body so my warmth could relax his hard little tummy, always walking him because he would cry as soon as I sat down.
He knew he had a problem with alcohol and he fought this disease with all his might, with every ounce of strength he had and he never gave up the struggle, fighting his demons until the last day.
My sister, his mom, used to dream that I was lost and that I was being dragged under in a swamp filled with snakes and monsters. After I became sober at age 23, she never had that dream again. I always say that she and her church friends prayed me sober against my will but the truth is that God does have a plan for each of us and He alone knows the reasons. We were not able to pray my nephew sober.
Yet, our human nature wants answers. God must get so sick of people at the Pearly Gates asking, “WHY?”
I want to ask, “Why me and not him? Why me and not my daughter?”
I prayed my heart out for my nephew, talked to him for several hours about how sobriety was possible for anyone, if it was possible for me. It just wasn’t in the Plan for him.
God doesn’t give us everything we ask for and He did give us Free Will. He also says no and maybe. My nephew was a no, my daughter is a maybe.
Right after Robbie’s death, my sister said that if his death saved one person, it would be a comfort to her. That happened so quickly that my head is still spinning. Another nephew was at home, sick, while his mom was at my sister’s house.
He is a recovering drug addict but lately he has been drinking, a lot. Beer with shots of vodka, the same poison that killed his cousin. He got nervous after he found out about his cousin because his eyes were turning yellow and his urine was dark brown. He went to the emergency room the next morning and he is now in intensive care. His spleen is swollen and his liver is inflamed. His cousin’s example made him go to the hospital and hopefully, with God’s grace, he made it there in time. (He is home and doing much better now.)
Life. It is what it is and it’s not always a picnic in the sunshine.
But if we could only remember that we make our own sandwiches and that we choose the drinks that we pour down our throats, that we pick the poisons that we put into our bodies, if we could remember that God can only work with what we give him, that He won’t force Himself on us, if we could remember that we are given choices, maybe there would be more addicts receiving a yes and less addicts destroying themselves and hurting everyone that loves them.
My sobriety is the greatest gift God ever gave me and I don’t know why me and not my nephew, why me and not my daughter.
During the coming days, as I try to comfort his mother, my sister, and as I mourn the loss of this man that I have loved since his birth 48 years ago, I will pray for courage, I will pray for strength and I will continue to pray for my Maybe Girl.
You are welcome to join me.
Cold Winter’s Bite… by Jodie Lynne
How hard I did try…
Right back down
this mountain I’d slide…
I’ve climbed and
Had faith, I believed…
How well I took life’s test
karmas from Eve…
Told myself never quit…
or never I’d gain…
Worth it this fight…
I bore all my might…
Picked thorn woven weeds
filled purely of pain…
Maybe I went too far…
Took a wrong trail or two…
Left…I am here…
Damning fate who already knew…
Foreseen was my future
she holds in her grip
same end it does seem…
Maybe my character once questionable…
Maybe my motives once unclean…
Surely she sees greatest all efforts
this queen all unseen…
I put all that was left…here…
I went out on a whim…
Judgment’s cold harshness
tears through my skin…
Life battles again…
Falters and falls… seems the only win-win
this damn endings forever…
lost in the cruelest of winds…
Forever this fairy tale needs simply to end…
F—Cinderella and f—Snow White…
I’m left here alone…in fate’s cold winter’s bite.
by Jodie Lynne
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