Longing for Spring

 I was fooled . Thought spring had arrived. Even put my snow shoes away. But today  I awoke to snow, and a cold winter day. We kept our wood burning stove blazing bright, helping to keep the household warm. Tonight the wind continues to howl,  and  bang  against the door. I shiver and sigh, my old bones ache; I sit in the chair with my book , but think of  blue skies and warmer days.

We Remember When... Friends From Long Ago

   I'm 62 years old.  Life, or the end of life  seems to be creeping in more and more.   Of late I hear of so many I have known  who have passed from this earth to their Heavenly home, or suffering with terminal disease.  Dear ones  that helped shape my life , and will always bring sweet memories to times past.   Just  a few hours ago,  I learned about another  from my youthful days who is suffering so, and about to part from this world. I , along with his family and many friends, pray for Dave Weldon, trusting our Lord is ever present with him.

     I  remember those early days of our childhood when we attended St. Rose of Lima school  together,  learning the foundations of our Catholic faith, and giving the nuns a run for their money. We were lively children. During our grade school days, Dave played on the basketball team, was an altar boy and  the first boy I kissed  playing Spin the Bottle at our eighth grade party. After St. Rose , we were classmates at Bell High , and in later years   neighbors living across the street from one another on the modest street ,  Flora Avenue.  Our  younger brothers, Walt and Mike were pals.

    For many years Dave and I shared the same friends, including his high school girlfriend, Pam .  Eventually, we all moved on and our lives took different turns; careers, marriage, family, and we  lived  lives happily ever after.  Yet,  we  still recall that time long ago when we knew each other when., and how sweet it was.

    God Bless you, David Weldon , the boy you were, and the man you grew to be.


   

Who am i?

Who am i ?
To  think my 
thoughts are so 
lofty , and worthy
to share with others 
i am nobody, 
except for those 
i know and love - 
they are the best
part of who
i am

Snowshoeing at Twilight

     It was late , twilight, when I went out snowshoeing today. The landscape,  with its soft shadows and shaded hues was especially lovely. I made several tracks across smooth white snow before I stopped to take in the magnificence of the trees all about me. They stood  perfectly still, not even  the slightest breeze brushing their piney branches. All was  quiet, peaceful,  not a sound could be heard, except my own breathing in and out.  I couldn't seem to move, like I was  locked in place,   as though the silence held me captive. My thoughts slowly  shifted from the challenges of my day to something more lofty and grand. A prayer of thanksgiving escaped my lips, grateful for God's creation so wonderfully displayed in nature 

A Ray of Light

 A ray  of sunlight
breaks  through the
cold, gray sky
to shine on
snow-covered trees,
the frozen ground,
and bird in flight;
Bringing  hope 
for the morrow
before  dark of night

January 27

The cold of winter
with its icy roads and
snow covered ground,
and colorless days 
of muted gray 
no longer seems
like the welcome
visitor one is 
happy to see,
but a tiresome quest
who has exhausted
her stay

The Turntable

i sit alone
(my husband has gone to bed)
and listen to music;
Favorite vinyl albums
played on a Pioneer
turntable from the
late 1970's
Considered an antique
to youth of today,
for me a sweet
gem from long 
ago yesterday -
the  familiar sound  of 
Peter, Paul and Mary,
Neil Diamond, and
The Carpenter's
make me smile
remembering those
days gone by

January Days

My beautiful north Idaho
even in January
with its cold , winter days
and the earth and trees
covered in snow
lifts my soul
to praise  God's  grandeur 
and splendor of 
nature in every season
and all ways

Victor Hugo & the Musical Les Miserables

    Yesterday was a grey, snowy day in north Idaho. A good day for staying in the house to read, write letters  or go to a movie.  My friend Patty and I chose the later. We met in town at noon -   the weather didn't seem to bother the many folks  milling about, most  in  coats, many  with the identifiable North Face logo,  and colorful scarfs and knit hat. Patty and I  looked the same, all bundled up  when we  walked into Riverstone Theater to see  Les Miserables., the much talked about movie musical adapted from the stage and based on Victor Hugo's timeless novel of the same name. It was a  perfect movie to see on a cold January day. I would say  a near perfect movie in every way, to see  any day.

    This movie was wonderfully cast - from Anne Hathaway's Fantaine and hearing her sing the  hauntingly lovely I Dreamed a Dream to Samantha Bank's Eponine to Daniel Huttlestone as the child Gavroche.

    While some critics bemoaned the singing voices of Hugh Jackman and Russell Crowe, I thought their voices were strong and steady, filled with just the right emotion, and  natural for the way  Jean Valjean and Javert might sound. Listening to Valjean (Jackman) prayerfully sing

God on high
hear my prayer
In my need you have always been there

He is young
He's afraid
Let him rest
Heaven blessed
Bring him home,
Bring him home,
Bring him home

 was only one of many times   I was moved to tears and  held out my left  hand for Patty to give me a tissue to wipe my eyes.  I thought of all the sons, including my own, and the fathers and mothers who passionately pray that same kind of prayer when their child has gone through struggles or in harms way.

    After learning his friends - the friends he  talked and laughed with, dreamed dreams with and were so full of hope   have all been killed , Marius (portrayed by the charming Eddie Redmayne) touches our hearts with his sad, lilting voice when he sings these lines from Empty Chairs, Empty Tables 

That I live, and you are gone.
There's a grief that can't be spoken.
There's a pain that goes on and on

and we think of our friends, the ones we laugh and talk with - so very dear to us.

    On the inside cover of the Broadway album   from 1986 is written, Les Miserables is a great blazing pageant of life and death at the barricades of political and social revolution in Victor Hugo's nineteenth century France. Yes.  But  also  so much more than that, as  Hugo himself wrote in his letter to M. Daelli, publisher of the Italian translation of LM

    "YOU ARE RIGHT, SIR, WHEN you tell that Les Miserables  is written for all nations. I do not know whether it will be read by all, but I wrote it for all. It is addressed to England as well to Spain, to Italy as well as to France, to Germany as well as to Ireland, to Republics which have slaves as well as to Empires which have serfs. Social problems overstep frontiers. The sores of the human race, those great sores which cover the globe, do not halt at the red or blue lines traced upon the map. In every place where man is ignorant and despairing, in every place where woman is sold for bread, wherever the child suffers for lack of the book which should instruct him and the hearth which should warm him, the book of Les Miserables knocks at the door and says: "Open to me, I come for you."

    It is a story of love, and loss, of sin and redemption, of hope and  moral courage; A story of friendship and faith.  Never give up. Press on. Hold to the high road. Choose the better part. Freedom .

    The blending of Hugo's novel with lyrics of Herbert Kretzmer and music by Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg is brilliant, elevating  the tale of Jean Valjean and his question  Who Am I  to new heights.

SNOW

White and fluffy and soft, 
i  first think  of cotton
falling from the sky; 
 Then of prisms
 that  glisten in the light
covering the field  
like a blanket
on a king-size bed,  and
draping evergreens in
 winter cold.  Snow.

NEW YEAR'S DAY 2013

 For me, New Year's Day  2013 starts   with  homemade huckleberry pancakes and basted eggs breakfast,  the Rose Parade and college football games, then  quiet moments sitting  in front of the fire resting and relaxing,  reading Flannery O'Connor,  and Russell Janney's Miracle of the Bells. Gary and I play Cribbage, and watch deer just outside the window as they nibble at each other's muzzle.

It's cold and grey outside, the trees  flocked with snow, but this day, like every New Year's Day brings a feeling of excitement;  An anticipation something fresh and beautiful lays ahead. It allows us to shed the mistakes and missteps of the past year, and a freedom  to renew the failed resolutions we didn't quite meet in 2012. To strive again to be more generous and kind; to forgive. To lift the spirit of family and friend. To hold a hand, to understand.

How many of us don't long for peace in our families, communities, our nation; our world? With this  first day of the new year, I have hope  peace, and love  can be found.

NEW YEAR'S EVE 2012

The last day of the year - 2012.  Some who trusted in  the Mayan prophecy  believed this date would never be. I can't help but wonder   how many doomsday scenarios and end of the world predictions have been proclaimed through the years.   I take comfort in the Lord's word to us in Scripture, 'Only God knows the day and hour."

For me, the onset of this day wasn't much different than any other day, except a quiet knowledge,  and silent reflection that another year was ending - a new year soon to begin. I busied myself with usual things - washing dishes, laundry, and after Christmas chores - putting away Santa's and taking down the tree. I took time to browse  through favorite books, share  a hamburger with my husband and watch  a classic movie , After The Thin Man on TCM.  I called my mother, and chatted with my son, Gavin about the high's and low's of his new job, and read a note from my father about his Christmas Day. I hung a picture my grand-daughter, Emily  drew of her Grandpa and me on our refrigerator door, and smiled.

I  thought of those no longer here, and cried, and reflected on life's moment's , both big and small , so grateful for family and friends who color my life with joy - this past year and every year. 

The Advent Wreath

   Yesterday  when  Father Bill Crowley, the pastor of St. Thomas the Apostle parish  in Coeur d Alene   lighted the  first candle on the Advent wreath ,  I thought about  its significance , and how it helps Christians deepen our appreciation of Christmas , helping all who participate to anticipate, and prepare spiritually  for the coming of    the Lord.  I was also reminded of my  youth where I attended St. Rose of Lima parochial school  in the small Los Angeles  suburb of   Maywood, California during the 1950's and 60's.

    It was a time when southern California colors were vivid and bright, not yet hazed over in a constant veil of smog , and the landscape  still dotted with orange groves and dairy farms. St. Rose of Lima school, built in 1933 was a Spanish style two story structure with a red tile roof  and triple arched portico's off to the side of the front entrance. The architecture  gave way to the rich Hispanic heritage of southern California , and seemed both grand and humble as it stood among a neighborhood  of modest homes with well groomed front yards.

    Upon entering through a pair of massive wood doors at the front of the school, students  grades one through eight  stepped into a protected,  and disciplined environment dedicated to religious and academic studies.  It  was on the ground floor, in the long hall   that   the entire student body would gather every Wednesday afternoon for the the lighting of the Advent Wreath during the four weeks of Advent.   The wreath  hung from  the vaulted  ceiling, and was larger than any wreath I've seen to this day.  The janitor, who was ever present around the school, making sure the toilets flushed properly, and floors were cleaned, constructed a rope pulley that allowed the wreath to be raised and lowered  to make the candles easier for one of the older students to  light;  I recall  the  thick  lush, green branches , and how beautiful they were,   and the scent of   a fresh wintry mountain smell that permeated the hall.  It's a smell familiar  from the wooded area I live in today, far from my southern California roots, and am reminded of  that time long ago, and what the evergreen branches  circled around the wreath represent - continuous life.

    My grade school days are long past, but  I  happily  remember the good  Sisters of Notre Dame, wearing  traditional habits,  that included  a black tunic, white Wimple  and Rosary beads hanging from their cincture, and how they  read   scripture passages aloud  from Isiah, then lead us into prayer, and  helped us understand about the Advent Wreath and its meaning  to our spiritual life.  We learned what the four candles; three purple,  and one pink - the base of each candle  nestled into the evergreen branches represented.   The purple candles signify prayer and penance; dark days of waiting. The pink candle, lit on the third week of Advent is a sign of hope that the long wait is almost over - the birth of the Messiah is near.

    Even now, if I  look closely through  memory's eye, I can almost  see Sister Mary Angelista blow into her small round pitch pipe alerting 250  uniformed boys and girls it was time to sing, "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" , and smile. Giving thanks for the blessing of that time, and what it means to me today.



  ***Note: The word Advent is derived from the Latin adventus  meaning arrival, approach, coming.

Great Horned Owl

I heard the familiar hoot
of the Great Horned Owl
again this morning;  His loud
and persistent call
who, who, who
continued on  like 
the beat of a tom-tom
sounding an alarm 
at the break of dawn -
waking me from gentle sleep
and my  land of dreams


Note: Great Horned Owls make their home in north Idaho year round,and are chiefly nocturnal. I have seen this owl starring back at me a few times over the past years and am struck  by the gaze of  his yellow gold eyes -  strikingly beautiful  as he  penetrates the dusk, and  the focus of his vision.  According to Stan Tekiela's Birds of Idaho field guide, the Great Horned  Owl  isn't able to turn its head all the way around , and his 'ears' are actually tufts of feathers (horns) and have nothing to do with his hearing, which is excellent -  the Great Horned Owl is able to hear a mouse moving beneath a foot of snow.  Because his wing feathers are ragged on ends, the Great Horned Owl is like a thief in the night ,  stealth and silent when he takes flight.

Beauty All About Me

I may not live here forever, perhaps a time will come when I have to leave this place - but for the moment,  I delight in the beauty of my surroundings - nature at its best.

A forest of evergreen trees circle round our north Idaho home, like a fortress protecting the King's crown; There is the shimmery glimmer of Lake Coeur d Alene not far in the distance, and the sway of a gentle breeze,  like a breath of  life moving  across  the land. I see a Red Tail hawk fly low in the sky, while two Blue Jays, brilliant in color perch on the feeder hanging from the limb of a fir nearly 100 years old. I watch white tail deer follow one another over wooded trails , and a hen turkey lead her brood of eight through a thicket of   brush. It is peaceful and quiet, like the sacredness of a sanctuary. I am reminded of the Biblical verse  Psalm 24:1 The earth is the Lord's ,and its fullness, and am grateful for the bounty He shares.

  

His Birthday in Heaven - September 4

Every Sunday at Mass, after the Gospel reading and homily,  Catholics  proclaim their Profession of Faith  - the end of the  creed is this : I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Holy Catholic Church, the Communion of Saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting . 

By Communion of Saints the church means the union which exists between the members of the church on earth with one another, and with the blessed in Heaven. A spiritual solidarity which binds the faithful together - both living and dead.

I hold this belief dear, and perhaps because of it,  find it   easier   to  picture my brother Walt celebrating his birthday today with the Heavenly crowd.  Surrounded by Angelic well wishers, joyfully singing to him the birthday song.  Others are there  celebrating with him, too  - the faithful departed he knew and loved while on this earth - grandparents, aunts, uncles, and long time  friends.  And Walt is smiling and happy.

I hope, just for a moment Walt looks down from Heaven's door to hear me say, I remember this day,  the day of your birth and how special you were - Happy Birthday, little  brother !  Love from your Sis, always and forever.

Yard Sale

Because Gary and I live in a rural area , far away from the beaten path, we never ever  considered a yard sale, knowing very few would make the trek to  buy junk from our trunk - miscellaneous items slightly used, but not abused at our place.  So when dear friends Patty and Marty invited us to bring our  'stuff'  to their neighborhood home located near  the heart of the city,  to be part of a two family yard sale , we jumped at the chance.  

From early  morn until late afternoon yard sale shoppers of all ages  and appearance  entered the gate   hoping to find a  special treasure -  at our sale , some   bought  books, Fiesta ware, and king size comforter; Others delighted in Madonna figurines, a bedroom lamp, and whiskey crock. All  were friendly, taking time to share in conversation, and pleasant chatter; and seemed happy to be on  their  journey, following yard sale signs  one to the other.

At end of day, family one and family two  smiled big as we   not only got   rid of unwanted   items, helping to  clear out  our  overcrowded, cluttered  garages, but we earned a little money, too. ( In this  sad economy earning a little extra money would put a smile on anybody's face)

Waving goodbye,  Patty said, "Save your stuff, Kath, and bring  it  over again next year for our Second Annual ,  bigger and better  yard sale !"    She won't have to tell me twice, I'm already thinking of unpacked boxes stacked  high on the shelf, and the joy they'll bring next spring  to some yard sale shopper looking for a find. 

Circle of Friends

A circle of friends 
goes round and round
there is no beginning, 
it has no end. Each 
important to the other
for the gift they bring
of love and laughter
Like a link in a chain
their hands are clasped,
their hearts entwined; Strength.

All  are sorrowful when one
is sad, all are  joyful when 
one is glad. Fellowship.

They  stand together
against misfortune and 
woe, disease and death - 
To bring to the other 
encouragement and hope

A Grandpa's Love

I awoke this morning thinking of my Grandpa Cooney. It would have been his birthday today. To me he was the best of grandpa's - loving, supportive and fun to be with. We enjoyed each other's company, and spent time together in his backyard picking raspberries. Raspberries were a favorite of both grandpa and me. On the night grandma taught cake decorating for  adult education ( at Thomas Jefferson  high school ), she would  prepare dinner for grandpa and I before she left , then   set up the cardboard table in the front room, cover it with a cheery cotton  tablecloth , and arrange place settings for  two. And always there would be  raspberries, one bowl   for grandpa, and one for me. I looked forward to those dinner dates with my grandfather, sharing our meal and talking about the little things we did that day. Grandpa was a good listener when I would  tell him about my doll, or some make believe game grandma and I had played.

Grandpa was an upholsterer, and owned his  shop  Cooney's Upholstery in Council Bluffs, Iowa. Grandma  often told   the story of how I'd sit at the window waving at  Grandpa when he left for work, then in the evening sit at the window watching  for him  to return.   I'd  rush to greet him at the door,  and take  him his bedroom slippers. I  can still recall the smell of Borax soap Grandpa would clean his hands with when he got home, the BenGay  to help ease his tired muscles, and the sweet smell of tobacco from the pipe he would smoke after he'd  sit down in his favorite chair.

It was a special time between a grand-daughter and her grandfather, a time that  wouldn't  last forever; my parents, baby brother and I moved from Council Bluffs when I was still young girl , and my grandfather passed away when I was 12,  but the joy, and experience of knowing  Grandpa's unconditional love has lasted a life time.

A Perfect Day

The sun shines warm, not too hot
like the heat of the desert, 
making it comfortable
and nice  to be outside.
Its glow gives afternoon 
light to the color of sky
and evergreen trees; Brilliant
blue, and shaded greens. 
A gentle breeze brushes
against my skin, i look up
to watch billowy white
clouds change form, and
slowly drift by. i hear
the rapid flutter of a
hummingbird as she gets
her fill of nectar from
a potted red rose, then 
see a reddish doe at 
her leisure, browse
through tall grass and 
wildflowers.  A feeling
of peace and serenity 
fill my soul.Grateful 
am i for this perfectly 
beautiful north Idaho day

My Wildlife World

No early morning reverie

for me,  or looking at forest

critters pictured in a

a book , instead I give

witness  to  an awesome view of

my wildlife world – like watching

the making of a Disney nature movie ,

outside my rural home. A mama

Moose and her twins  slowly

rise  from their rest to

browse leafy bushes ,

while a deer stops and stares

checking  for signs of hidden

danger before leading

her speckled fawn to a 

shaded spot between

two giant firs. A bluebird

and her brood are nesting

under the corner eave, while

an animated chipmunk scurries

across garden pavers.  Not far

in the distance a brown

bunny leaps across the

grassy path, and a

Swallow tail butterfly

gently flutters  by

FOURTH OF JULY

Let us remember this Fourth of July
the heroic deeds of
colonial men and women who
with firm purpose
and resolve, sought freedom
and declared independence
from a king's unjust laws; To
form a more perfect union
with liberty for all citizens,
affirming  that all men are
created  equal - politician,  poet,
lawyer,  laborer ; no matter creed
or color,  wealthy or poor - that they are 
endowed by their Creator
with certain unalienable rights 
Let us remember this Fourth of July
our rich heritage in being 
called  an American

Blue Sky

I can't imagine  any sky

more beautiful than the 

beautiful  blue  sky of 

north Idaho. Unlike skies

in other parts of the west

masked with gauzy haze, 

or a smokey brown smog

this sky  is  unfiltered

and pristine, highlighting 

nature's true blue color -

The white of  the clouds

are whiter than freshly

fallen snow, and remind me 

of cotton candy at a beach side 

carnival. They're never still, 

but  always changing shape.

I turn my gaze up-word and

stare , as though I'm

looking into forever

The Fawn

I stand  in the shadow of
an open window,  and quietly
watch a fawn at play
The white spots on her 
back tell how young 
she is,  and  remind me of
snowflakes falling  from 
a winter sky. She  runs ahead 
of her mother,  her legs still
wobbly as she darts  back
and forth across  freshly mowed
grass . I can't be sure,  but it seems
she is smiling, and happy and 
content to be born, living in
such a beautiful place.  Then, mama 
nuzzles her nose , signaling it's nap time, 
and leads  her baby  to a sheltered space ,
secure and safe from dangers
of the wild, and  those 
who would do  her harm

Gary's Brother, Vic

I got another lesson today about the sad, sudden passing of life. My sister-in-law called at 6 a.m. to tell my husband his brother, Vic had a heart attack and died an hour earlier.  Gary’s grief was immediate, his deep felt sorrow evident as his body slumped, like he had just been hard punched in the stomach, and tears streamed down his face.

Vic was Gary’s younger brother. They were always close, and along with their baby brother, Joe shared many happy times growing up together; First in Kansas, then California.  Gary tells a story of a time when they still lived in Kansas and the three young brothers went Trick –or-Treating one Halloween.  Gary recalls it was dark and patches of snow covered the ground.  They were pleased with their loot as each had a collected a bag full of candy. Somewhere along the way Vic lost his shoes, and walked for a while with just his socks on.  After a fashion, he stopped, started to cry and said he couldn’t go any further because his feet hurt.  Gary lovingly put his arm around his little brother and said, “Here, Vic. It’s okay.  Jump up on my back, I’ll carry you the rest of the way”.  I’ve heard this story many times through the years, and always find it endearing as I listen to the love in Gary’s voice as he tells it, and can picture three little toe-headed boys trudging along the cold country road on Halloween night, one brother shoeless, the other big brother carrying him piggy back, while the youngest brother stays near, following closely behind.

                                                            

Gary reminisces about Vic some more, about how they worked together for nearly ten years at their family owned auto part store , Nu-5 AUTO SUPPLY, and what a hard worker Vic was.   Gary gives tribute to Vic by saying he was a good father to his daughters Linnea and Kim, a loving husband to his wife of 43 years, Yvonne; a dutiful son, and faithful brother and friend.  Gary calls his brother, Vic   the ‘Salt of the Earth’.   

 Vic was also a caring grandfather, kind uncle, and sweet brother-in-law to me. I remember Vic was a sun person, and enjoyed vacationing in Hawaii, but mostly he liked the comfort of his own home and spending time with his wife, and their dog Patsy.

I can’t help but think of the fragility of life, and how in a blink of an eye a loved one is forever gone – no longer do we hear their voice or feel their touch.  No longer can we visit, or call them on the phone to say hello, or I’m sorry, or I love you.  There are no more memories to make, memories to share.  The pain is at times unbearable, and for a while we feel empty, broken and lost.  Many of us have known that kind of anguish; Vic’s wife, his children and brothers know it tonight.  But they and I trust God’s grace rains down on them, and His loving providence will guide them, and all of us who loved Vic through this difficult passage.   We can be further assured with the words from John 3:16 “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life”

Gary says his brother was ‘Salt of the earth’. A very high compliment, meaning he was a good, decent, simple, faithful, and caring man  always willing to lend a hand , and give a kind word. Vic, once ‘Salt of the earth’, now adding to the   spice of Heaven.

                                                                 

+ Victor L. Dobbs (March 3, 1942 – June 11, 2012) Rest in Peace, and Eternal Light Shine upon you.

The Woodpecker

Before i saw his feathered
red head, i heard the  loud
rat-atty - tat - tat as he
rapped his his pointed
beak against the trunk
of the tree. So intent 
on the work he was 
doing, he paid no
attention to me, the 
Blue Jay squawking,
or the Swallow flying
near by. i was reminded
of Walter Lanz's famous
animated character,Woody -
but recognized right away
this woodpecker was no 
silly cartoon figure, but a 
beauty of nature, so
lovely to see

RUSH OF WIND

i close my eyes,   and listen
to the rush of wind
making  a  swooshing sound 
rumbling through the trees;             
Sometimes like the 

sound of  tall grass                              
blowing in the breeze; 
Sometimes clanging, banging
like a constant knock on
the old wooden door            
Softer now, like a
softly played largo
then   crescendo building
like  the composer's musical
score; Twirling and
swirling like a wild Irish dance
i close my eyes , and listen - 
to the  rush of wind
making a swooshing sound
rumbling through the trees

(5-30-12) IN MEMORY OF WALT

Walter Cooney passed away two years ago tonight. 

He  wasn’t rich or famous like a powerful politician, big time movie actor, or rock star, but he was very important and vital and uniquely special to his family and circle of friends – some lifelong from the time of his youth; Walt was my cherished little brother, Kerri’s longtime companion, Dad’s oldest son, and the apple of our mother’s eye, the one she called her ‘Golden Child’.

 While reliving the anguish and  horrible pain  of  learning my brother had died does no good,  reflecting on Walter's  life, and the gladness  he brought to  others,  helps to lighten the  empty feeling,  and loss  of   one so  loved  , one  no longer (physically)  here.  So today, on the anniversary of his death, each of us who knew and cared for my brother commemorates his 55 years of life with both tears of sorrow, and tears of joy for his presence in our lives, and all that he gave us.

Walt was no saint, and could be full of the dickens, but he had a kind heart and gentle spirit; He didn't judge people harshly, or hold grudges, and loved to laugh.   He was never overt in sharing his faith, but often called our mother and asked for prayers for some special need. He told her he liked to stop in at St. Joseph’s church (not far from his home) during the week to ‘talk things over with God’.    A few weeks after his passing I was  moved when Mother presented me with an edition of the New Testament, the one inscribed to Walt from my husband Gary and me for his birthday in September, 1982.   I held it in my hands, and remembered buying this particular edition just for him at a religious education conference I attended in Anaheim, California.  What touched my spirit more was to find passages and page numbers my brother had highlighted, like the one from Revelation 5:11-13

  As my vision continued, I heard the voices of many angels who surrounded the throne and the living creatures and the elders. They were countless in number, thousands and tens of thousands, and they all cried out: “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches, wisdom and strength, honor and glory and praise!” Then I heard the voices of every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea; everything in the universe cried aloud: “To the One seated on the throne and to the Lamb, be praise and honor, glory and might, forever and ever!”

It was as though , just at that moment  while  I was still deeply grieving  for  him, my brother   wanted to share  this passage with me, to help  reassure me he was okay, he was worshipping in the glory of the Lord with all the saints and angels; That all was well.  

And it did help me  through the grieving process. Not that there aren’t times I still grieve, and miss my brother. I do. I will always miss him.  Not in an unwholesome way, but as one misses  someone  so dear, once part of themself, the sweet days of childhood and their  lifetime of  shared  moments,  now forever gone.  It is then I pick up Walt’s New Testament to read the verses he underlined so many years ago, and am reassured again.  He is with the Lord, and the Lord is with him.

The truth is my brother wouldn’t want his mother or father, his family or  friends to be continually sad, he would want us to be happy and embrace life with zest – to live and love and laugh. He would want us to  think of him and smile.

                                                                   

what i see

What do i see sitting 
from my front door 
bench ? A doe browsing
newly sprouted grass
beneath the evergreen tree;
A Bluebird, bluer than 
the pale blue sky
fluttering its wings, then floating
mid-air before quickly  flying 
over  two red breasted robins
bobbing along the rocky 
ground, searching for seed;
And in the field,  green from
spring rain,  a  brown 
rabbit with four white paws
that look like socks on
furry feet.  

END OF DAY

The bright of day
slowly fades  away -
Dusk  moves in
to cast  a shadowy 
grey over the forested
land, and deep water 
lake. Darkness looms;
It's blackness soon 
to fall upon us
like a theater curtain 
signals  the end 
of  a Broadway play. 
Birds seek their
rest, deer bed down
The earth grows quiet;
A faint whispering of
wind  the only sound

Late Afternoon

i sit and watch
a flock of geese
flying across the
pale blue sky
i listen to the happy
sound of songbirds
singing their melodious
tune from  high
atop evergreen trees
i feel the
gentle breeze brush
against my freckled arms,
and am grateful
for this moment
in time; Sweet
solitude, peaceful space
to breath nature's
beauty in my own
special place

LOVE

What is love ?

not just the telling of, 
but the doing
day in and day out
Giving of self
and sharing the load
To give encouragement,
and kindly word to 
the other who is discouraged,
broken and bent;
Listening with an
understanding heart
To forgive a flare
of anger after the 
heat of bad temperament
Laughing together with
joyful glee over 
some silly moment
Steadiness.
Faithfulness.
Commitment, and trust.