Friday, March 11, 2016

The Best Dog

 The Good Best Dog
2004-2016

I got a call while out of town, “We got a puppy, black and brown!”
I wasn’t thrilled, to say the least. Puppies can be such little beast.
My house was filled with growing boys, clothes strewn in rooms and scattered toys.
I did not want puppy messes, but God is wise how He blesses.

When I came home they held him up, a ball of fur that little pup.
A house of boys and then one more, and this one pottied on the floor!
It wasn’t long till he was trained, and my affection he had gained.
For chewed up shoes he made a mends, and we became the best of friends.

He kept boys safe as they grew up, to men-from boys, and dog-from pup.
And when the grandkids came along, he became their guard, safe and strong.
Through years he watched me do the chores, patiently sat outside closed doors.
Waiting for me to lead the way, faithfully followed through each day.

He always stayed where he could see, he and God kept an eye on me.
I took long walks as he ran free, we’d rest beneath the big oak tree.
He heard my prayers along the trail, I talk to God- he wagged his tail.
I’d throw the ball, he ran so fast. I always thought his speed would last.

He seemed so young the other day. When did his muzzel turn so grey?
That puppy grew to be much more, than I could ever have asked for.
We buried him in grassy hill, this rainy day, dark and still.
The best of what a dog can be, was Harley every day to me.



Monday, February 16, 2015

Boys must grow up, moms must let go…and life is a vapor.

January 19, 2015

      As of today I’m an empty nester. When I first wrote that word “empty” I spelled it wrong, I guess because I’m not use to it. I’ve been mothering boys since the beginning of time, or so it feels like. Thirty nine years total –whew! You would think that would make me an expert, but it didn’t. It just brought me from one level of confused to another. Just trying to understand why they felt the need to be so loud, to wrestle each other to the ground, and hit each other with dirt clods, kept me in a constant state of prayer.

      Five boys in all. The last boy boarded a plane this morning and is headed out of the country, by way of Texas. Every parent wants their children to grow up and have a life of their own; it’s the way things are supposed to be. But do they have to go so far away? The last boy leaving wasn’t the last boy born. They get all mixed up like that. One goes and another stays…not in order, but as life takes them or brings them back.

      Last time I cleaned the room and moved my sewing machine into it, a boy moved back…then two. I’m wondering if I should just leave the door closed for a while. I’m not silly enough or superstitious to think if I clean it they will come back. Like the saying, “If you build it they will come.” But on the other hand, my sewing machine doesn’t want to go anywhere near it!

      Do you know what happens when years of noise are replaced with silence? Ringing in your ears! You can hear yourself swallow, and you can hear the clock ticking on the wall in the other room. But what you can hear even louder than the silence is your heart – beating sadly, missing boys.

      No one ever told me they would be my little boys forever. That no matter how big their bodies got, my feelings would never change. That my hopes for them, concerns, and even fears would not go away when they moved away. On the contrary, they increased. It is one thing to be in some kind of control, and quite another to have none at all. This is where my trust in God had to grow as my boys grew up and left, and this is where my knees must meet the carpet every day as I lay those fears down at God’s mercy seat and leave them with Him.

      I’m not sure what to do now. I have time. I have choices. It’s funny how your mind thinks, when you’re in the thick of things with your children. You dream of the days when you’ll have time alone, uninterrupted reading, and quiet. You think it will be so awesome. Well, it might be. I’m not sure yet.

      I have time to write now. Time to blog. But I can’t think of anything to write about but boys. It’s that clocks fault, the one ticking loudly on the wall in the room next to me. It keeps interrupting me; reminding me that time passes by so very quickly. Children grow up, parents get old, and life is like a vapor. If I had time to be depressed about it, I might be, but the point is, I don’t have time.

      If I’ve learned anything on this fast ride with growing boys it would be this – the day in which you are living is the most important day of your life, not tomorrow, and not yesterday. If I could travel back and tell my younger self a few things, I would want to include these: Don’t dream about how your life will be in the future, live the life you dream today. Do the important things today. Say the important words, share your life, your heart – today. There is only time to do the important things in life, so choose well, love well (especially those boys). And never, never ever, say good bye without a hug.

      Those are my words of wisdom as I sit here in the quiet, getting used to the stillness of the house without the loud footsteps of testosterone filled bodies moving through the space. It’s different, but it’s good. It’s the way things are supposed to be. I’m a little sad, but I’m ok. And I know they will be back to visit, because I’m their mom… and I have food.

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Why can't we just say - Thank You?


      I sit listening to the wind blow against my window. I see the bare trees bending with each gust, and the rain drops flow from heaven. We were dry not more than a few weeks ago, parched and praying. We prayed for rain. The trees stood limp and the dry grass brown, waiting. All we heard from every station, every forecast, was how badly we needed rain...how bad the drought was. Through the summer our state was on fire. We choked from smoke filled skies, and tears fell as the sight of burning trees stung our eyes - our forest burned. We felt the dryness of our land. Those who believe in God, prayed. Are there many of us left? The dryness hasn't just consumed the land, it started with the people.

      Hearts have become dry here. Souls burn for what is not of God. The unnatural has replaced the natural and men think by removing God from every establishment, somehow they can remove the eyes of Him who sees all things, at all times, in all places. How does one remove God? Yes our ground was parched and dry, but not as dry as the people's hearts that burn with lust for ungodly things. God cannot be removed, but He will leave us to ourselves, to reap what we have sown.

And yet in His mercy, He sent rain.

Are we praising Him for it? Are we singing the hallelujah song? What do we hear across the land?

Fear of floods! Fear of mud slides! Too much rain!

Oh dry people, parched souls, how our constant complaining must hurt the ears of God. Step outside and feel the rain from heaven. Accept God's gift and be wet with His mercy. Lets turn our eyes and hearts to Him. He longs to gather us up in His arms of love; to be our foundation that stands firm in the storms. The solid rock that cannot be washed away by waves or floods, or mud slides; steadfast and immovable. Those things that beat against the outside are nothing compared to what beats against our souls, inside and eternal. Go out into the rain and look up. Let Him wash from our souls what keeps us far from Him and bring us close.

He has sent His gift to call us back, to cause us to look to Him. Be thankful. Accept it. Say thank you!