Staying

orange crayon on the inside of the toy closet door

cracks in the tile

finger smudges on the lower glass panels of the french study door

faded plastic swing

weathered wooden steps to a lookout

candles partly melted

books and books read over and over

silent pianos, notes still ring in the air

grass outside the sink window 

dirt hill where mud pies baked

stacked beds sleepy heads

laughtered walls

front door staying open 

all day

remember the rat we all corralled out the front door

someone had a broom

we all yelled 

remember when the door opened on its

own the day after she left

like it used to when Spottie went

from garage to backyard

and we thought it was her coming

for a visit

the rush to be on time but we were

always just a few minutes late

naps

Prime Rib Sunday dinners

chats about wedding jobs

hard to hope 

of making other memories

I will hold on to this place

where I gave my life

there are more of the good

than the pain that remains

so I will keep what I have

and stay

Miracles

 Miracles, there have been so many.  I am going to just talk about one that happened yesterday.  There is a lot of back story that I will not go into right now.  Let me just say that this miracle took years and it is one of many, like steps along a long and important path.  Yesterday, my youngest son entered the Kona LDS temple to participate in vicarious baptisms with the young adults of the YSA Ward.  It was the first time he had been to the temple since he was 14 years old.  This was very significant as it has taken him this long to feel comfortable going there for various reasons.  It was an emotional time for him.  He had made major changes in his life over the past year in order to walk through those doors. I am proud of him. But more than that I am so happy for him.  It is a miracle that he has turned his life around.  I have always believed that people can change and that key to the process is our Savior, Jesus Christ.  His love and his atonement gives us hope.  I am so grateful for the gospel and specially for all those who are followers of Christ who have helped my son feel His love.

Been Awhile

I think it has been months. Well, the Christmas Season is over and it was great. Our Santa is very good at what he does. So, thanks to him for making wishes come true. Our 8 yr old son was particularly happy this year because of all the things he finally got that he had been wanting but was not ready for till now. The management and use of material objects takes responsibility. He was prone to breaking things but has become more coordinated and better at fine motor skills. So, he got a DSI, remote control car, Toy Story toys, coloring activity thing and clothes. We got a trampoline for the big motor skills. He got a pillow pet like his sister. It was one miracle after another for him. For so long he had been wanting these things and finally he got them. It has changed his life! He believes in Santa, I think. Or at least I think he thinks he had better pretend to believe or the stuff may not come. The life of a child.

Just have to vent

It's really not venting in the traditional sense because, actually, that which I am "venting" about I really enjoy. I just finished a paper, am about to write another one on a topic I feel, at best, shaky about, and I have a final exam to do by tomorrow which is a day already packed with two soccer games (one I will have to miss) and three yoga classes to teach in addition to the regular daily life of keeping track of a family and feeding them. It is the schoolwork that is new to the mix of life. But I do like it. My husband can never understand it. I like my brain to be working. It makes me feel fresh, vibrant and young. Maybe it brings me back to feelings of being a child when every experience was a learning one. Maybe it just feels good because it is linked to feelings of accomplishment and future. Whatever the reason, just thought I would give myself a break and "vent" about all I have to do before getting back to it. The cool thing is that I am not tired and I don't anticipate being tired after it's all over. I imagine it will just energize me. That has to be a good thing.

xoxo

The best thing about having kids is this - being able to still hug and kiss them even when they are grown up and being able to always talk sweet with them even when they are big.

Our strange ways

We all have strange ways. Would everyone agree? Is there anyone who is completely pleasant and well-adjusted so as not to display any quirks that could bother anyone? Maybe. Our dog. Oliver, is pretty pleasant to have around. I think it's because he can't talk. Is that the answer? Say as little as possible? I don't know. I get uneasy around people who don't talk much. I wonder what's wrong and if they are feeling all right. Oliver doesn't talk and is cute. Not say much and be cute, is that the answer? Not completely. Oliver also feels just a few emotions: love, loyalty, patience, playfulness, protectiveness and the basic physical needs like hunger, thirst, etc. So therein is perhaps the key factor, keep things simple, basic and limited to the most amiable of emotions. I'll try it, starting now, don't talk much, keep feelings simple and take care of my basic needs. Oh, and look cute. Then I will be the most pleasant of people to be around and maybe those around me will follow suite. One can only hope.

Father Brother

p.s.
I have to thank someone for putting this in my head. She has no idea how much she has given to me. Thank you.

The above is from a post in a writing workshop I am a member of. It was written by a writer whose correspondence I have been in touch with and been responding to. He went from thinking he had cancer to trying to quit smoking to getting a GED on the way to going to college. There were other dramatic moments throughout which we shared indirectly through our posts. I rarely responded directly to his entrees. Rather, I would write a poem, several on most days, in response, which shared my insight and feelings. I have to believe he read my posts as diligently as I read his because my vocabulary would show up in his entrees - words like "plan", "warrior" and "listen."

After reading the above tag to his entree called "College" I felt a surge in my heart and tears come to the surface. At the same time I shrugged it off thinking it's probably a lady friend. But something inside gives me hope that it might be me. Somehow my desire to help, dressed in the poems I wrote, may have made a difference in one man's life. He represents the father and brother that I care for yet was too young to help in their time of need. Maybe someday I will have a chance to tell him, "You're Welcome." If, he was talking about me, if.