KEEP DOING WHAT IS GOOD

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“So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up”

(Galatians 6:9, NLT)

Today was a work day, of course it’s Thursday.  Sometimes at work I feel like I’m in a trial and can never get out.  I’m sure I’m not the only one who has ever experienced trial.  The reason I know I’m not the only one is look at the world today.

If you go into the news you can read on every page some kind of trial that people are experiencing.  On lunch, I was reading a devotional that is sent to me every day and the writer used the above verse.  It was a verse that was written for me, during this day, at this moment.

That’s what I love about bible verses.  God uses them to speak to us whenever we need to be encouraged.  Encouragement is all around us.  We get one word, one affirmation, or even one bible verse and it can change the day. 

He reminded me that I don’t need to get tired of doing what is good.  He is with me every day, every step of the way and no matter the circumstances, at just the right time I will reap a harvest of blessing.  Don’t give up.  Keep on the straight and narrow.  Rocks are being thrown at us from every side but we have a safety net.  No matter how the enemy tries to knock us off kilter He will be there to catch us. 

Encouragement is a wonderful thing.  Everyone can practice it at least once in the day.  A smile for someone that you’re not particularly fond of, or you don’t ordinarily talk to goes a long way.  Maybe your child fell down and has a boo boo, a kiss and a band aid goes a long way.

Whatever your trial is today, get a little encouragement from a source right at your fingertips.  Read your favorite poem, watch a happy movie, pick up the phone and call an old friend.  Put a positive in your life.  Look in the mirror and smile at yourself.  You’d be surprised how good you will feel.

Last but not least, don’t give up.  Stay on the narrow road; understand that He is always the same, yesterday, today and tomorrow.  My afternoon is going much better, much more relaxed and more encouraged. 

A PINK DAY

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I sat on the chair outside the hospital room.  The familiar smell circled aaround my nose and I wanted to breath any other smell.  I was tired of sitting erect in a chair and trying to dose.  I felt like there was no pink in that day.

My face in my hands, I was feeling pinkless.  Suddenly I looked up and there before me was a Catholic priest.  "Can you baptize my son?"  He looked at me, I can't remember his face but I remember he looked long and hard at me.  "Are you Catholic?", he answered.  I felt compelled to lie but he was a priest after all so I answered, "No."

"I can't babtize your son if you're not Catholic.  It's against my vows.  He's dieing I answered.  He's had pnemonia for months and months and it's not healing.  I want him to go to heaven, I want him to be baptized.  My hiusband was raised Catholic, but never goes to church."

"Does you husband want him to be baptized?  I don't know whaat my husband wants.  I've been here for seventy five days and I haven't seen my husband for many days.  My daughter is five and I haven't been able to see her either.  I've not left my son.  I've not had sleep, shower or a decent meal.  I don't have any money and I haven't moved my car from the parking spot in seventy five days.  I don't know what I'm going to do, I don't know if today it's going to be his last.  I believe in God and I know my responsibility is to teach him about God.  I saw you and it occurred to me thagt God wants us to be baptized."

He looked at me with that look.  He removed his robe, his priestly robe.  Slowly we entered the hospital room together.  He used the bedside table and pulled out his baptismal kit from a satchel, something like a doctor would carry.  He cherished his tools, delicately he laid them out one by one.  First, a white linen cloth with a cross on it.  Then he took a small bowl from the satchel and next he poured water from a vile; I assumed it was holy water.  He took out a baptismal certificate and filled it out with our names and carefully he placed the date on the paper.  He prayed silently for it seemed like an eternity. 

Then he reached through the bars of the crib.  Louis lay sleeping, IV's dripping and his breathing labored.  He didn't know, wake up or even acknowledge we were in the room.  The priest began saying his ritual words.  The only ones I heard were, "I baptize you in the name of the father, son and holy ghost.  Louis Conner, Jr. , you are sealed with the cross of Christ. 

I let out a sigh.  Pinkness filled the room.  There was only me, the priest, Louis and God.  I thought I could hear angels singing Halleluyah.  The room was filled with other patients, other parents, nurses and doctors.  I couldn't see them.  I could only see the color pink.  A smile spread on Louis' face.  He lay sleeping but a smile graced his face.  I always wondered if he somehow knew that he was a child of God.  Did he feel the pink, spreading over the room?  Did he feel the arms of God holding him and the angels singing?  Did he know that he was a child of God?

Come with me to the Pink Saturday Party today.

Morning Feet

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This morning I was blessed by waking up to the sound of small feet.  The running back and forth on the hard wood floors and the wonderment of how that burst of energy can be felt so early in the morning.  As I listened it took me back to another time when I was listening to my own waking up with that burst of energy.

Such love is presented in those feet.  The sound of happiness that the day has begun and the sound of determination as they look for another toy or as they explore the household acting as if it's the first time that they are seeing it.

When someone leaves us, the sound of morning feet is one of the things that we miss.  We miss waking up and seeing them waiting for you to crawl out of bed and make their breakfast.  We miss hearing the bare feet slapping against a hardwood floor, calling out to you mommy, I'm awake.  We miss that first smile in the morning and that first hug they throw our way.  We miss the sound that the day has begun.  The way we are reminded one step at a time.

Yes this morning as I listened to my Grandson's feet I felt blessed.  I felt as if God was reminding me, giving me a present, a warm and simple memory to begin my day.  He was waking me gently, rocking me from a night of slumber with a pleasant sound, a present for my ears. 

What sounds remind us?  What are the sounds that bring a smile to our faces?  At four thirty in the morning I can't think of a more pleasant sound than two tiny feet running back and forth, up and down the hallway reminding me of another time, another joy, another happiness.

A MOTHER’S TEARDROP

When I’m asleep,

I dream of you,

And not the sadness,

Of your plight.

I dream of yesterdays,

Gone by,

I dream of holding you,

Upon my lap,

Of conversations,

Once held dear.

I dream of you my little one,

I dream of you so near.

I can close my eyes,

And see your smile,

Anytime of the day or night.

But the one thing I can never do,

Is hold you close for real and true,

You’re not here,

You’ve flown,

Gone to heaven I’m sure.

And for the sadness of a mother’s heart,

There never can be a cure.

If you close your eyes and dream of me,

Just know that someday,

When I’m underground,

That no more fantasy will prevail,

Our hands will clasp for real.

Linda Bowden

TODAY IS THE DAY

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It's the eighth of June 2012.  Today in my heart and mind he's nine years old because that is the year that he left this earth.  If he was still here on this earth he would be age 36.  I can only imagine what he'd be doing, what job he'd be working on, whether or not he was married, whether he had children.  I can only imagine because these are accomplishments that did not come to be.

A mother does not forget the day she gave birth to a child.  I don't think it's the pain she remembers because if she did let's face it she probably wouldn't repeat that.  It's the joy that she doesn't forget.  There is a joy that surrounds the experience that far out- weighs any pain that she felt.  There's the happiness that drips from the brow and spreads out over the room, like butter on toast. 

In the beginning of having to spend this day alone, tears would come to my eyes and I would mourn the smell of him, the laughter, the sparkling eyes.  Now I look at this day as a new beginning, a respectfull remembrance of the joy that filled that room, on this day 36 years ago.  I have spent time meditating, listening to uplifting messages, and reading the Word, to strengthen me for whatever blessings that God will give to me on this day. 

Does the world remember?  Not really.  I've even found that the people who knew him don't always think of it.  That used to really bother me.  Not anymore, because their lives surround them and they go on with their day.  Some of them stop to think of the birthday but to most people it's just another day.  There is no fault in that. 

As time wears on, I find myself seizing the day, this day's happenings, this day's blessings, failures and accomplishments.  Louis is at peace.  If he can see me, today, I believe that he is the happiest of all.  He is in heaven with his Lord, no pain, no worries, just happiness.

I recall one day when he was in the hospital and I got a phone call at work.  "Mom, mom, guess what?  What son?  Listen to this, he began reading the passage, and the streets are of gold, and there is no more pain.  No more pain, mom.  How wonderful can this place be?"  I remember, my eyes welled up and I thought "How can a nine year old be so prepared?"  Well, God prepares us at any age to be received by Him.  To be ready.  Today I celebrate that Louis is at peace, enjoying no more pain, happy and relieved.  I hold on to this truth for one more birthday.

Happy Birthday son, a mother's love does not forget!

Louis, Taking the Good

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Last night I lay with my grandson in my bed and memories begin to flood in.  Two days ago my grandson had a seizure and I was reminded of how fragile each day on earth is for us.  My daughter was traumatized and all of us are watching and waiting for something more to happen.  I realized that we can't live each day with the remembrance of something negative.  For his sake and ours we need to push through those feelings of waiting for the other shoe to drop.  He was so sweet as he lay beside me, holding my hand and watching his favorite Mickey Mouse Club. 

As I held him close to me, not too close, cause he's an independent guy, I realized that he doesn't know why we're concerned.  Mickey Mouse played on and on and the little lessons that are taught in the show seemed so interesting to him.  Counting by fives, and getting the tools from "Oh Toodles" seemed to be in his concentration.  His favorite part is the end when they sing the "Hot Dog Song."  He loves to look at his Grandma and show me that he can sing, "Hot Dog."  Last night he took that one step further and began to harmonize long after the song was finished.  I wondered what he was thinking because he really doesn't talk yet.  He's only twenty months.

I was reminded how Louis my own son would take these kind of moments and make something good out of them.  He would put aside sickness, pain and suffering and hold on to the Hot Dog Moments, the way Hayden did last night.  Even in times of being bed ridden he would make a game out of everything.  Sometimes in the hospital he would grab whatever might be at his bedside, an emesis basin for a boat or a water pitcher pouring the water into his boat and making even a pencil floating in his homemade toy special. 

A child is resiliant.  They make the best of their situation because that's their natural instinct.  We as adults whine and complain about our situations and don't always make the best of what we have today.  We don't always show our gratitude for the moments we have and don't provide examples for the children around us.  Watching Hayden reminded me of how little children are comfortable with their surroundings and make the best of every minute.  His actions reminded me of Louis and the times that he would push aside all of the bad and let only the good into his heart.

A mother can store the memories of the good.  A mother needs to erase the bad, push aside the darkness and learn to walk alongside their children into the light.

On the Pink of It

No one knows what is going to happen on any given day, whether or not the days color will end with a pink hue or even a day that begins with a dark green color will soften as the hours go by.  Yesterday there was darkness, and as the day wore on the nighttime closed the hour with a lighter shade ending with a pink hue. 

Yesterday was filled with uncertainty and angst but today is a little bit lighter.  As I sat in a Starbucks this morning, sharing and talking with friends I realized how much we are all connected in some way.  My grief stricken days can often be erased when I share with others and more importantly listen to their stories and how the learning process in this universe is a daily and sometimes minute by minute experience.   The world, and the people in it, are full of their own grief and how they have overcome these grievance experiences.  They share their daily struggle and somehow hearing what they have to share lessens my own grievance experience.

God is constantly giving me new tools, new blessings that make each day easier to taken another step towards joy. Reminded of the bible verse, Joy comes in the morning.  Joy is a word that is short and precise.  It's funny how three little letters can say so much.  I think of Joy as being a blessing.  I think of this word as being a pink word which spreads like butter on a hot biscuit.  Don't we wish we could have joy around us every day of the week and every minute of the day.  Sometimes we may not feel joyous and we let the heaviness of the night darken the light of the day.  I try to hold on to the morning, to think of the good things in my life.  To share with others how joy can fill the dark spaces if I allow it to come.  Not to feel guilty, not to let go, or surrender every problem that has ever defined me but rather to allow myself to feel joy, the blessing of the morning. 

When I was a child and I was distraught my mother would say, "Sleep on it, everything will look differently in the morning."  The older I get the more I understand how wise my mother really is.  I just wonder how long do we want to stay in the night.  How long do we wollow and struggle in the dark colors and when do we have that epiphany that it is okay to get to the pink of the morning. 

Today, this day I choose to put pink in my color pallet.  It's the beginning of joy and the end of the darkness.  Have a pink weekend!

The Season of Birthdays

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It seems that the birthdays are so abundant during the summer months.  Yesterday we went to a birthday party at a long time friends house.  So many children, all of my grandchildren were there.  Both of my daughters and their spouses were there.  I suppose that there are many summer birthdays because of those snuggly winter nights. 

I was reminded of how much love surrounds a birthday party, young and old.  Louis' birthday was a summer birthday.  June 8th, 1976 was his birthday.  I remember his birthday well as being my easiest, fastest labor even though he was my biggest baby.  Ten pounds, three ounces and twenty two inches long.  My last daughter was longer but did not weigh the extra three ounces. 

Even though he only had nine birthdays, he was no different than any other little boy.  He loved the joy, the love that surrounded him by family and friends during these times.  He loved his new bike, or his baseball mit.  He even loved those clothes that he would receive on a birthday.  Toys and games, especially toys to do with dragons or cars were his favorite.

Yesterday as I watched our friends little boy open his presents it reminded me of the joy that surrounds a day called birthday.  It's all about the love, the friends, the family the people that make up the wondrus happiness that completes the circle. 

Little boys are so special, the jumping, the shouting, the chasing their brothers and friends.  They are mysterious and explode with excitement on their special day.  There is nothing dainty about their actions, they shout and tell us what they want.

Thank God for birthdays, for special days that bring together a combination of friends and family to share in the joy and happiness of little boys and girls.  I am forever grateful for these days, in my memories and in my present life.

Pink, Pink and Some More Pink

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Today is another pink Saturday.  I'm pretty pink today on this reminiscing highway that I'm on.  I've just finsihed three graduations in the last two days and I'm reminded of how life comes in a circle.  Within this circle there are days that stand out.  Some are joyous and some are not.  We can look forward to the joyous ones with anticipation and we can fold back the ones that are not so joyous.  We can tuck those days underneath the ones that are joyous, not forgetting them, just tucking them way into a different color of our hearts. 

I'm choosing to make this a pink day because pink is a more cheerful color in my circle.  I'm striving to fill the center of that circle with a pinker heart than yesterday.  One step at a time, one shade at a time, as my pinkness slowly returns. 

Earlier this weekend I shared that my little boy didn't get to graduate, and I didn't get to enjoy that graduation.  On the pinker side of that thought, I did have other memories of his laughter, his boyness and his love.  He always had a look for that love and always shared those looks with his mother's heart.  Those are the pink moments for me when I'm reminiscing.

This week I had the distinct blessing of seeing my grandson, John, graduate from Middle School, my granddaughter Stephanie, graduate from High School, and my granddaughter Harley, graduate from Grade School.  A trilogy of pink events, full of excitement,  and all the joyous moments that fill some of the not so pink spaces in my heart.  These moments seek to replace other darker moments and open the heart to share the brightness of the day. 

Ladies and gentlemen as you go forth on this week, consider the pinkness that surrounds you.  Consider the beautiful array of flowers that will open up any dark shades that are inside of your circle.  Those darker sides deserve to move over and expand the joy that can be in your heart today.  All that is pink is just waiting for you to discover it.  May your heart be filled with the joy that this day will bring and that any sadness you feel will succomb to a new color, the color of pink. 

The Circle Continues

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This morning I get the pleasure of going to my Grandson's eight grade graduation.  Many times over the years he has reminded me of Louis.  Well, we're all related so we all resemble each other in some ways.  He's all boy, vivacious, walks on walls, and every narrow path.  Louis was all of that even though most times sick and didn't feel like it.  I wonder what kind of man he would have grown up to be.  I have three grandsons and three granddaughters so it seems and equal amount of hormones floating in the air.

Sometimes I look back and think of how thrilled Louis would have been to have a nephew.  He would have been glad to play cars with him or to help him make a bike jump in the desert land that John lives on.  Now, today John has taken one more step to becomming a grown up.  He's graduating from Jr. High oh boy and all the next road adventures are on the way. 

The learning to drive, the first serious girl friend, the deciding what he wants to be when he grows are all decisions he might face during these next four years.  Louis never had to face these decisions.  I can see the good and the bad in that statement.  It took me an eternity to get to this point, but in retrospect John is only 13 soon to be 14 so that's how many years it's taken me. 

I'm thinking of the opportunities that we are missing at our untimely departure.  Louis didn't get to learn to drive a car, have his first serious girl friend or enjoy having a nephew.  As a matter of fact going back to the look, I remember one in his hospital bed during those final days.  I was on the cot that I spent many hours on, next to him.  The Iv's were raging, the machines beeping, both of us tuning them out.  We were watching Wheel of Fortune and Louis looked over at me, "I'll never have children."  Nine years old, so wise.  I quietly reached out my hand and squeezed his fingers.  I didn't want to acknowledge his wiseness.  I just wanted to be his mom.

Today I will watch my grandson take another step toward manhood.  He will be one step closer in the big circle.  I'm proud of him because he's struggled along the way.  He's the only boy in a family of sisters.  We come from a long family of looks, a glance here and there, that tells a mother and a grandmother what they are thinking, where their hearts are for the moment.  Today I will be looking for that look.  If I'm studious I might get a glimpse of the past.

Remembering the Shows

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What is there about watching a popular television show that makes me think of him and the past?  Maybe the reasons I think about him when I'm watching a show is because I remember some of the shows he liked.  My daughter Celena and I can remember the movies we would have to endure because after all he had to have his way sometimes.  Movies that involved dragons, or super heroes were among the favorites.  One of my favorite shows is American Idol, just regular people with spectacular gifts looking for a shot at a fantastic future. 

Louis was no stranger to dreaming.  I remember his Michael Jackson phase.  Or was it just the glove he was loving to mimic?  He would put an ordinary garden glove on, just one you know, and tie some piece of rag around his head.  One day we were at my mom's and he had his garb on and he wanted to go to the grocery store with his Grandma.  Well she took one look at the outfit and she said, "I'm sorry but you can't go with me with that glove and head piece on."  He looked at her with his long eyelashes and said, "Why Grandma, I want to be like Michael Jackson.  I can be famous too."  She laughed but she still wouldn't let him wear the famous gear, she merely answered, "you don't need that."  He hung his head but he wanted to go to the store more than having the gear, so off they went without Michael. 

Today we continue to have our favorite shows, our favorite stars and our favorite dreams about being famous.  There's a little of that in everyone, young or old.  People watch shows like American Idol because they want to be entertained, they want to dream a little about something that most likely won't happen for them.  There's so many shows springing up like this show because there's a disease of dreaming for something more special than the humdrum world we live on a daily basis. 

Life is not as humdrum as we think.  We don't look around us like a little child does and capture some of the days little miracles.  How about that smile you received from a complete stranger while waiting in the grocery store line?  How about the gal in the coffee shop who decided to share with you where she bought her outfit?  Don't we all miss all the opportunities that come our way to make us feel like we're a little more than insignificant. 

Our children are no strangers to dreaming, no strangers to looking for the good in ever situation.  Pretending like they are slaying dragons or sitting down to a tea party with there sister and making the best of the situation.  For goodness sake a brother that will play wedding with  you and marry the girl down the street because he's being a good sport especially when he's dressed up as the bride because his eyelashes are better than yours is worth his weight in goal, famous for a day, all over the neighborhood. 

So today when I look back at how famous was he, I know the answer, infamous to me, infamous to me.  I capture the meaning of dreaming, because dreaming about him is all I have today, dreaming and movies in my heart.

The Beginning No Ending

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In the circle of life there is no ending because the ending comes back to the beginning.  The circle can be small or large.  Some people live short lives on this earth and some people live long lives on this earth.  Some people are in the middle.  We can never know what those days will bring or what they won't.  Only God knows the number of hairs on our head and the day of our departure from this earth.  Even drug addicts, people who are suffering from long time illnesses do not know. 

How do I come to this revelation?  It's simple. I watched the waiting game so many times in Louis' short life.  I watched him wonder many times while in the hospital.  I wondered for him sometimes hour by hour in the young days of his life. 

When Louis was about four years old he told me a story.  We had just moved to New Orleans and we're still unpacking.  The television was set up and some show came on talking about out of body experiences.  Louis turned to me and said, "I did that."  "You did what?" I answered.  "I came out of my body."  "Oh baby, you didn't."  "Yes mommy, when I had surgery."  "The man in white came and held my hand and said I couldn't go with him, it wasn't time."  I stood there with my mouth opened and had no reply.  He was talking honestly and forthright to me.  He was absolutely positive, I could see it in his eyes. I went over to him and gave him a quick hug, a tear in my eye.  "Why are you crying, mommy?"  I answered, "I'm not, I love you, my baby, I love you." 

I turned off the television and sent him to play in his new room.  His big sister Celena was by his side as always and later she asked me, "What was Louis talking about, mommy? "I'm not sure baby, I'm not sure."  "We can't worrry about it."  I gave her a hug and said, "Do you like you're new room?"  She smiled at me and skipped off to play with her brother. 

God meets us, even when we're young.  He's always there with us, every single day of our life in the beginning and the end forever and through eternity.  His word tells us that He never leaves us.  He's there beside us, guiding us and holding our hand.  He's so real, so defining that even small children remember the experience. 

That was a day I never can forget, can't get out of my mind even so many years later.  Why because God wants me to remember that He was there with Louis, through surgery, through any indecision he might have felt through that experience.  He was there holding his hand and guiding him to where he needed to be at that moment, comforting him and speaking to him.  I have comfort when I think of that experience because I know when the circle of life on this earth came to the fullness that Louis was comforted by the fact that God was there with him.  I'm sure that his hand was being held and guided towards his next journey.  He was there with him that day in surgery an He's there with him now. 

May all our experiences in life be comforted with the fact that we are not alone!  I rest in that thought every day, through the trials of life and it brings me peace, peace, peace.

Getting the Pink in My Heart

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Well, it's Saturday again, pink, red, rosy hot today and I'm in a Starbucks, the cool of the morning,
the joggers the bike riders and the coffee drinkers are all here with me.  This morning I observed my daughter and what it's like to have small children close together in age.  There isn't time to just relax and enjoy the joggers, the bikers or the coffee at a Starbucks.  There's diapers to be changed and breakfast to be served.  When one gets his breakfast the other one decides it's time for the bottle.  Whew, what a work out.  Thanks pink lovers for enjoying my picture and my blog a couple of Saturday's ago.  I'm partial to pink and love to express the joy of the pink on many occasions. 

I started thinking of all the meanings of the color pink and what can be done with the color today.  I went on the internet our favorite search engine and started looking up all the definitions of pink. Of course one of the first of those searches revealed what Wikapedia has to say about pink.  Now in college I was never allowed to use this website because I was never told why just that I couldn't use it.  However I believe in this case they hit it on the nailhead.  They describe pink as being just a hint of red.  I suppose in most cases that would be true but what if you are looking at hot pink, a darker shade, magenta which could be a mixture of white and red to bring that purple hue.  Anyway you look at it pink has been the favorite color of little girls and many women for years. 

I've been trying to get my heart back to the color of red, a deeper shade of pink.  You see when my son passed away I describe the draining of the heart as having the blood drained and the color absent.  The loss of pink, the absense of color.  Today, I'm able to look at the color and to understand that it takes a great deal of time to replenish the heart.  Time is a healer of the rosy color.  When the life is drained from your body you don't see the color of pink, or green, or red, or blue.  You just see the blank color of the world, the black and white of it.  

The world is full of well wishers who want to help.  Most of the time I found that their words did not help and certainly did not heal.  Words like, "You'll be okay, you'll get over it, He's in a better place, You have other children, You'll see it will be okay, You can have another baby, Time will heal you, God is always there, when He closes a door, He opens a window.  There is an endless parade of well wishng words, which in my opinion do not even penetrate the hardness of the darkness that we succomb to.  The heart is shattered and it's going to take a lot more pink moments to overcome the black and white of it.  It's going to take a lot more rosy smiles to replace the black and white.  Hell it's taken me twenty six years to even get back to a pink Saturday, to come to a Starbucks and actually smile, look at the bikeriders, the coffee drinkers and enjoy all the pink moments I had with my little boy. 

On this Saturday, I'm tresuring that I can look back on the bike rides, the baseball, the school work, the friends, the glances, the kisses goodnight, the stories, the little white lies, the adventures and the hugs of a nine year old.  I can look back on the baby cries, the bottles being fed and the diapers being changed.  I can give thanks to the nine years that he was in my life and I can get back to the pink of it instead of the stark colors of the black and white. 

On this Saturday my day is filled with the pink love of a mother.  Hot pink, light pink, magenta and red.  The heart is full of the joy of the pinkness of the day!  Enjoy you're Saturday.



I'm linking to Pink Saturday.

MORNING THE PINK OF IT

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What is it about Morning that makes me think of Louis?  What is it about morning that makes me think about the day, the day's events?  Morning is peaceful to me.  It takes away any bad memories that I might have about the later in the day events and how tired I am in the evening.

On page 172 of Howl at the Moon

Early In The Morning

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Early in the morning, the world is slowly spinning,
Not as hard and fast as it spins in later day.
Early in the morning the world is solely quiet,
not as noisy and as hectic as it is in later day.

My mind is full of words and can be opened without distraction,
Cause once I set my life out,
the day is not my own.
The day belongs to my employer, my children and my cell phone.

So early in the morning, I can claim my name to fame,
with the words as they pop from my fingers.
With a leap and a bound from the early morning sounds,
that tumble on the ground with gentle waves of dreams,
once captured here and tamed.

The early morning captures all that I once thought of being,
Of youth, of love, of songs once sung.
The later sounds are blurred as they swirl faster than the time,
but the early morning sounds keep rhythm with my heart.
As if to say, "Hold on to me, and show me that you care,"
For all the words come tumbling,
from my fingertips with ease,
and my mind belongs to me with a quiet, gentle peace.

Good morning bloggers.  Linda Bowden

Many articles about grief!!!!

Source: victorianweb.org via Lynne on Pinterest

I wanted to see what other people think about grief or the recovery of grief.  I scanned the internet and looked at many articles.  One that caught my eye was listed under Hot Newspaper Articles.  The article is written by author Robin Renee Bridges who written several books and many articles.  She is a Chaplain and definitely more qualified than I to council someone about grief.  In her article she describes the passing of your loved one as not being gone but closer than you think.  I believe that because that loved one never really leaves your heart.  In my book " A Mother's Heart" I explain how Louis is close to me, everyday.  A mother never really departs from her child, and he or she can never really depart from her.  We carry them in our hearts forever.  I can't imagine any mother ever not knowing that her child remains in her thoughts, in her daily thoughts, or her heart. I've been with my Louis for all the years that he has left this world. I often see a smile in someone's face, usually one of my grandchildren. A mannerism reminds me of him, the way they lay on the floor and watch TV, the look that they send my way and the wonderful memories that I carry in my mind. I wish every single hour of the day a way to be able to physically see him but for me I have to be satisfied with the fact that he is only in my memories and I have to understand that he's happy. I have to know in my heart and believe what the bible tells me that he's happy. He doesn't have anymore pain, he doesn't have anymore unhappiness and I have to believe that his heart is full of my love.

Why Write it?

Who would have guessed that twenty six years after Louis had gone to the Lord that I would begin putting this story on paper.   For the last few months, I’ve thought of nothing else and this story has been in my subconscious mind, over and over.  Sometimes I’ve awakened thinking about what I would say and what I could say that would perhaps alleviate some other mother’s pain. 

This story is one of a mother’s heart, a mother’s love and a mother’s sorrow.  Out of sorrow there comes a sense of peace and even joy.  Feelings that cannot be explained flood in.  My intention in telling this story is to help some other mother, some other parent, to see that no matter what season you’re in, there is a light on the other side, an end to the darkness.

This book is dedicated to the memory of my little boy, Louis, to the people and circumstances the Lord has put in my path throughout these twenty six years and to the many, many blessings that have come from the experience.

Thank you, God for allowing me to tell the story.

Holding on to the Good

Source: flickr.com via Stacy on Pinterest

I want to hold on to those looks, because it’s the good times mixed with the bad that circle my brain.  Every single day, I take from the background. a good memory.  I need the good memories to erase the ones I don’t want to remember, the ones that are still vivid, still present, still wake me up. The natural order of the universe has been disturbed.  After all, we are supposed to grow old and our children are supposed to visit with our grandchildren.  I never really imagined that I would have to experience losing my child or that I would be expected to go on as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t even been here.

As a mother we need to hold on to every look that we were given.  The suttle eyebrow raising, the faint smiles that we receive. We really don't treasure these moments as much as we should but as they always say we don't miss until we don't have. Yes I am slowly replacing any bad memories with the memories of the good looks.  I want to close my eyes and erase, tubes, blood dripping and respirations that are labored.  I want to close my eyes and see the suttle smiles, the eyebrow raising when one is puzzled or the look of surprise on his face when the unexpected approaches, or the thrill of hitting a baseball, or riding his bike for the first time. 
These are the days that I hold on to, the looks, the happiness, the brightness of the day. 
          

Smile if you Dare

Source: imgfave.com via Jessica on Pinterest

I'm searching for quotes today, quotes to uplift.  I came accross hundreds of quotes that are supposed to be uplifting, quotes to make me smile.  Anyone can fake a smile we do it everyday.  Sometimes we smile when we can't do anymore crying.  How can you continue to cry?  You're body can empty itself from water, dehydration sets in.  Sometimes we smile for a lack of anything else.  Have you ever smiled when your heart was bursting with tears? 
If I say, ‘I will forget my complaint, I will change my expression, and smile,’
Job 9:26-28
Sometimes the only thing I can do is smile because I'm dehydrated and all the tears have been dried up.  Crying can be overated.  This message on the sign says it all for me.  What we see depends mainly on what we look for.  This is true, because I have found that we can say and do many times over but unless we're willing to see it we can't really do anything with it.  We can't get move forward through our tears until we forget our complaint, we can't change our expression and smile.  God always knows the best thing to say to us and His word is full of those sayings.  It was only after the quieting of my tears that I've been able to see beyond this veil of sorrow.  Could I have done it any sooner?  Probably not, the process is long, no quick fixes.  Do I sometimes find myself under the same veil, absolutely?  I'm human, I'm far from being healed, sometimes closer than others.  One step backwards can bring me to two steps forward.  Sometimes I have to go back to get to the next step. 

I love pictures, quotes, words of encouragement.  God has sent many of tools along the way.  He never fails me, I can always turn to His word and He will guide me to just the right quote, just the right passage.  No today I can truely say that my smile doesn't have to be fake.  I don't have to succomb to the darkness of the tears.  I can climb out of the dark place and see the goodness of the day.  I can truely forget my complaing and change my expression, and smile. 

Thanks be to God!

The Look

Source: Uploaded by user via Leigh on Pinterest

He’s eight years old today.  A mother loves to look at her son, to give him all the gifts an eight year old boy enjoys.  Today is a special day at the California Angels stadium; it’s the day Rod Carew is supposed to beat the record of home      I as the mother, look over at my eight year old boy.  He’s curled up on the seat, his slight frame chilled from the wind.  I see that for a moment he pretends he isn’t sick, doesn’t have pain, doesn’t feel colder than all the rest.     He gives me that look that only a son can give his mother.  He turns his head slightly, with an impish grin, and throws me a kiss, with a wink and a slight sparkle in his eye.  I think about that look, I close my eyes and I think about that look.  It’s been twenty-six years since I’ve seen it.

Note:  The look, is one of the first things I think about when I see Louis.  He had a way with the look.  Not many words just a look.  I miss it.  I think about a baby dreaming about playing baseball.  I think about what accomplishments he would have made.  Would he had been a baseball player, maybe not.  From a young age he loved baseball, that's why even in sickness we were at the Angel
game that day.  He wanted to erase the sickness and replace it with a good memory, a baseball game.  The picture to me symbolizes what a child may dream of, what a mother might dream about for her son.  So sweet, so innocent, so many lessons for a mother to learn about her son.  "Even in sickness he looked for the good, for something better, something more encouraging like who would win the game.  Louis lived his life to the best of his ability, pushing through pain, through one more disappointing day.  He didn't let that get the better of him, he wasn't too busy to give me the look.  He focused on something better, something more hopeful.  Yes, I miss the look, it was comforting, it gave me hope, it gave me peace.  I look for those looks in my other children, in my grandchildren, in complete strangers.  The looks matter.  Treasure them.

The Beginning

Source: leilockheart.me via Karene on Pinterest

How do you know when your life will come to a screaching halt?  Well it's my experience that you don't.  No one can tell you how to feel, how to feel about how you feel, what to do when the rug is pulled out from under your feet and what tomorrow will bring.  During the grief process you can either choose to bury it or go through it.  It's taken me 26 years to get to this point. I'm in no way a counselor.  I'm not qualified to tell you how you should feel, or what will be your next move.  That's my disclaimer and I'm sticking to it.  I started this blog to listen, to learn and to scream out some of my experiences.  Losing a child is not the natural order of things.  One doesn't ever think that they will have to experience the loss of a child.  After all the law of averages is expected to be followed.

The beginning of every project is the hardest to fullfill.  How do I get started?  What will I say that will be worthwhile hearing?  Can I make a difference in anyone's life?  Do I want to make a difference in anyone's life?  Should I make a difference in anyone's life?  I don't know the answers to any of these questions.  I just know that I feel driven to write this book, to bring to full circle all my experiences on this journey.  If someone finds any of the words helpful than so be it.  I believe that God is going to use my experience to reach someone, even if it's only one mother to know that it's okay to feel what your feeling, to do what your doing, to shed the tears that your sheding and to cling on to the hope that your hoping.  It's okay to talk, to speak about the pain, the memories, the anger and the heartache that you're feeling today, that you felt yesterday and the resolution that you might succomb to at any given moment.  It's okay for you to be a mother. 

Yes the beginning of the project is always the hardest.  When you teach something to someone the first lesson is always the hardest because there is zero understanding at that moment.  By the time you get to the end of the project you can share the joy of the journey.  That is what my desire is for this book, to share the ending, the joy of the project. 

May all your journeys be a continuous journey, and that although painful at the beginning there will be a joy along the way. 

Sharing the Word from A Mother's Heart

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Source: Uploaded by user via Sue on Pinterest

I started this blog to help myself and others heal through the power of the word.  If you've ever had a loss in your life, a child, a spouse or a loved one, a friend you know what I'm talking about.  During the blog I will attempt to bring you through my story, the loss of a child.  Knowing and loving your child for nine short years and having to give him up to an illness you have no control over is devastating.  I hope that my story will prompt someone out there to also write their story and to help you to solve some of your own questions.

I remember some of the words that people have spoken to me in the past that we're less than comforting.  My wish for you as you read this blog and consider buying my book is that my words will somehow be comforting.  If they are not than I apologize up front.  Everyone can find something decearning about what someone else says if they want to.  I remember once that a pastor that I had just met said something to me that I took great offense to.  Later, after I got to know him better I understood what he was trying to tell me.  At the moment I wasn't very happy with his response.  Years later there was a good deal of validity to what he expressed to me that day, I just wasn't ready to hear it. 

If anything I say startles, confuses, or makes you angry don't be surprised.  You may not be ready to receive it in this moment.  Just tuck it away and take it out later on, sometime in the future and reexamine it at that time.  Things may look differently then, just like it did for me oh, I don't know five or ten years later.  You can't know how much time it will take for you to see a little piece of reality.  Be patient with yourself, you are not alone.