Monday, April 13, 2015

Sunday Morning Like Mama

My mom and I hung out Easter morning. 

I think of her every single day. More than once.

I miss her still and though that loss will never fade
it ebbs and flows like the tides. Sometimes crashing like waves
against a sea wall and other times distant and gray on the horizon of 
my day.

Always there though.
Always there. 

Often these last few hard years I have wondered what her advice
to me would sound like. Usually I decide it would sound like 
Keep on going, Honey. 
You don't really have a choice. 
Just do what you need to do. 
You're doing just fine.

And so I keep going. Doing what needs to be done. 

When I grow weary of the going and the doing I feel my soul
looking for her. Reaching and stretching towards her like the arms of my sweet grand-babies reaching towards their own mamas.

My heart is just hoping for a glimpse is all.
Just yearning for a brief moment 
as the child again. 

Easter morning I caught that glimpse when I woke early to get
Sunday lunch started before church. 

Already dressed in my Sunday best 
and wrapped up in one of her aprons I put the 
butter beans on to cook and I almost heard her whisper.

In an instant I flew through years to those Sunday mornings 
when I woke to the sounds of her in the kitchen starting Sunday lunch
even before the rest of us were ready for breakfast.

Just for a moment
I saw her with that same apron over her Sunday dress.

Just for a breath
as my heart stretched towards hers 
I felt her right there beside me.

And my mama held me again. 

It made the day with my own precious angels all the sweeter.

Sunday, April 5, 2015

Looking For The Words

This one is for you-my quiet pray-er, real live author and old softball slinging friend. It took many nights of prayers dancing with fears and angels but it is time for me to look for the words again.

It is time to practice what I preach to the 
kindergartners I with whom I spend my days.

We can do hard things.  

Nearly a year and a half away from the coma 
that nearly robbed me of them it remains 
difficult still to move words from my heart to paper.

What once was effortless is now more deliberate and hard
and for almost nineteen months now I have rarely had the
energy to visit these pages.

Laboring so over something once so 
easy can be discouraging and Lord knows I haven't had
the inclination to fight any battles that were optional in

The process is much harder now. The words and sentences
hide from me and I spend most of my time here backspacing,
retyping and rewording.

Spelling never my strong suit is now even more

Words that once danced from my fingertips to the correct keys of
my computer now spin a little out of control and often require stern
direction to find their way.

It occurs to me though, that I have more to say and however difficult it may be, weakness becomes strength only through hard work of one kind or another.

So maybe I'll come here more often and type and backspace and type and re-type.