I remember the pain I felt the first time I realized that my mom had grown older.
My heart broke that day, as I realized how frail the strongest woman in my life had become just since our last visit.
Today, at a newly turned 63, I fly to see my middle child, Jodie Lynne and she hasn’t seen me for two years.
I look good from 1800 miles away with the perfect lighting and a smart phone pose, but up close…
It will be the first time that she will realize that her mother is older. Much.
Human, not a super woman who can save the day…
Well, usually, I just mess up whom ever I’m trying to save, so that might be a good thing, LOL.
But she’s not going to like her mom’s newly acquired wrinkles.
It’s almost like the stamp of an expiration date upon my face and neck.
Not now, the wrinkles whisper, yet their very existence shouts out the reality that time is more valuable, limited.
My baby sister swears that I still look 17, so maybe Jodie Lynne will be wearing the same love shield.
I hope so, because no woman should ever have to watch her mom grow old.
P.S. We had an incredible visit. She kept telling me that I was “so little” but that’s another story.
Dear Trey, I don’t know if you believe me, but this is all true. Don’t waste this second chance at life that He has given you, love Grammy Jeanne
Friday evening after supper I began to grow very restless and I paced around the house.
My sister asked me what was wrong because it was her house I was pacing and I told her I was worried about one of my grandkids, that I had a really bad feeling that I was going to lose one soon.
She and I talked for a few minutes and then I said, “I’m not gonna lose a grandchild.”
I went outside and I raised my hands to the gray sky and I prayed that God would cover all my grandchildren with my angels. (Yes, I have angels watching over me and the more I send out, the more I receive.)
The next morning, Saturday morning, I was reading my angel cards and I took a picture of the layout so I would remember which cards I had pulled…in one picture there was an unexplainable patch of white with a red spot sitting beside my cards in the picture. But the patch of white and the red spot didn’t exist on the table, only in the picture.
My sister Sue looked at it and said that’s an angel. When I turned it to view it the way I had taken it, it was an angel with pink wings and a big red blood spot in the middle of her face…
So, then I don’t think too much of it till Saturday night when I get the call from my daughter, telling me that my 17-year-old grandson Trey had been shot in the face.
He had suffered a lot of damage to his lower jaw, but he was alive and the prognosis was good.
I knew then…my angels had indeed covered him, kept him alive, kept him from severe brain damage and I knew that one special angel had shown me on Saturday morning that she had him covered with the blood of Jesus.
Thank you God and thank you angels. Amen
Every evening two broken women
Stumbled down a lonesome road
Passing each other on their way home
Silent, not a single word was spoken
Strangers they might have stayed
But one night the wind was howling
The lightening was crackling white
The black thunder roared
The icy rain drops pelted the ground
Beneath an old bridge they huddled
Two broken women hunkered down
Waiting for the storm to pass their town.
October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month.
Why not everyday?
I can’t be anyone but me.
I can’t see anything
That I can’t see
Until my eyes are opened
Then I can’t look away
When you call me a bitch
I want to move so far away
When you loudly call me
F—— pathetic in Denny’s
I eat my stack of pancakes
Covered in syrup and butter
Even though I want to run home
But home is where we live
So honestly, home is no better.
As I yearn to be alone
Syrup and tears
Taste familiar together.
Where is the woman
I thought I’d be?
Where is the man
I thought you were?
The perfect couple
They always said
But if this is love
I’d rather be dead.
You say it’s my fault
When you yell
Swear and scream.
I make you so mad
That’s why you’re
Being so mean.
Verbal abuse I tell you
No, it’s not you…
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