Tag Archives: love

Cabbage Pot Love

They were young newlyweds, but he was already wise enough to be quiet.

She grew up a daddy’s girl, a tomboy in every way. She could fish, feed cows, bail hay, but at the time, she couldn’t make toast in a toaster to save her life!

She decided to make her groom a special supper of some of his favorite foods, including cabbage.  She’d never eaten cabbage before, much less cooked it.  Nonetheless, she wanted to be a “good wife” and learn how.

In life, hindsight is always 20/20.  Looking back now she laughs saying she should’ve asked a few questions, read a recipe, something!  But then again, how hard could it be to cook cabbage? Continue reading Cabbage Pot Love

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Fly Well

The knot is tied. The balloons won’t come apart. Each is similar, yet unique, different, but the same.

They have the same amount of helium, at least at a glance, but you never know about balloons. They were filled with flight giving helium about the same time, but sometimes a balloon leaks unexpectedly. Its smooth surface becomes slack and loose.  It doesn’t bounce or move like a newly filled balloon. Instead of rising to the ceiling, it begins to float around a room mid-air, eventually dropping even further until finally it rests on the floor.

Turn a full helium balloon loose outside and it flies freely, climbing higher and higher! They are easy to see at first, but become smaller as they rise to wherever the winds blow until they finally look like tiny dots before disappearing from sight.

In some ways, two balloons tied together go farther, climb higher, move faster. They catch more wind together than individually. In the long run though one, or both, go flat. Maybe one is accidentally punctured by a tree branch. Maybe the weather changes and cold air causes the balloons to move less freely. Maybe they just sail along until they simply wear out.

Continue reading Fly Well

Help This Boy

Sometimes pictures get me.  It sounds silly. Maybe it is.  But sometimes, a picture hits me in my core, cutting, ripping, tearing away at soul and sinew.

Some pictures, some stories haunt me as assuredly as a ghost in a graveyard.  I can’t sleep without it popping into my dreams. I can’t concentrate without it popping into conscious thought.

This picture sticks with me like a chain around the heart:

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Continue reading Help This Boy

Miniature Rose Surprise

A retired elderly couple, probably in their late 70’s, was making their way into Wal-Mart as I pulled into a parking spot.  They were dressed like they had just come from church and were in no hurry to get anywhere fast.

By the time I got in the front door, the elderly woman was bent over a display table just inside the door admiring a red heart flower pot with miniature red roses growing in it.  She was short, well dressed and had her blue-gray hair fixed up for her Sunday best.

He was a tall man with a relaxed, easy-going expression.  He was quite dignified and had an air about him that he was a thoughtful, well-educated man.

Still looking at the flowers, she said to him, “Aren’t these pretty! They never had anything like this until the last few years.”  Continue reading Miniature Rose Surprise

Baby Girl

It takes someone with a golden heart and an iron will to work at Hospice. My friend, Linda, is one of those people.

Hospice workers try to guard their emotions so they don’t burn out and can help the next person, the next day.  Some people still get through the protective wall though and profoundly touch the heart.

For Linda, one such person was an older lady who was quite lucid at the time, but only had a couple of months to live. Every day she went to see her. They would sit and visit, and Linda did all the things she could to help care for her new, dying friend.

No one should feel alone when they die, and the lady’s family was scattered across the country and not able to be with her.  Linda was, however, and she began preparing her for the final goodbye. Continue reading Baby Girl

True Love Through

Reading a magazine in the dentist waiting room, I saw someone in my peripheral vision pushing a wheelchair. I didn’t look up until I heard the familiar voice of a man facing the receptionist window.

I looked to the wheelchair and locked eyes with a woman staring at me. Even though I haven’t seen her in a couple of years, I instantly recognized her. I smiled and waved, but she flatly stared into my eyes without blinking or a hint of emotion.

She was diagnosed four years ago with early onset dementia. We worked together for over 15 years and she was an extremely responsible, competent individual who rose to every task and challenge ever thrown her way.

But now, she didn’t know me. She was looking right at me, but didn’t see. She was there, but not here; alive, but not living.

Continue reading True Love Through

A Short Time To Live

Two and half months ago a lightening strike at work crashed our computer server and immediately brought us to our knees. Within an hour a couple of computer geeks who work for the IT Company we contract with showed up. One started on the main frame and one, Joe, began checking individual computers. I walked in my office to see Joe at my desk.  Joe glanced up and asked if I was having problems. I told him I’d spilled a cup of coffee on the tower and it’s acted funny ever since.  Slightly amused, he retorted that my computer was just low on gasoline and after he filled it up and left he wanted me to plug it back in.

I stood fumbling through some paperwork while Joe kept hacking and coughing. Half joking, half serious, I told Joe if he’d lay off the cigarettes his cough would go away. Without looking up from the keyboard he casually said, “Not this time. I found out last week I have stage 4 lung cancer. It only goes downhill from here.” Continue reading A Short Time To Live

Dear Claira

Dear Claira,

Welcome to this side of our world! We’ve been waiting a long time to see your pretty granddaughter face! You’ve been enjoying another life the last 9 months in the peace, comfort and care of your mother. You’re still actually getting the same things from your mother, it’s just in a new, different way.945935_10151454692612017_1099065294_n.jpg

My guess was that you would be born a week earlier than April 18 because there was a full Continue reading Dear Claira