Kiss the Wind

I envy the butterflies as they

Make their journeys,

Sitting on flowers,

Over the fields

Without touching the ground,

I would like to run away,

Through the meadows and lily fields,

Over the trees

And enjoy the valleys,

I would love to run away.

To kiss the wind before

It reached the mountaintops

I want to run away to tomorrow

Before tomorrow reaches me today.

 

Life is poetry.  I always enjoyed teaching poetry to students, especially teenagers.  Within each young man lies a poem.  He just doesn't know it. 

Girls find it early. 

Girls talk about living, dying, finding, and losing love; however, boys don't want to admit they have noticed these things.  They could write volumes on lost loves.

Teenage girls will retreat to the bathroom and cry on the shoulder of a friend. 

Major drama. 

I have never had to send a boy to the restroom to comfort and encourage his friend to return back to the room over a girl. 

Guys just don't do drama.

They will, however, start a fight or get into a fight.  Hmmm, maybe this is their drama.---Instead of crying, they beat the heck out each other.

Answers a lot of questions. 

Instead of going home because his heart is broken, he is sent home for fighting, and that, my friend, saves his pride.  Either way, he got to leave school and rid himself of the hurt he feels from being told, "it's over," while eating lunch with a table full of friends, from the girl he thought he would take to the prom.

Oh, girls, girls, girls, think, think, think before you speak, speak, speak!

That young man you are embarrassing and breaking his heart all in one swoop, may later be "the one who got away." Or, even worse, he is friends with the one who might just be "the one" had you not shown your bad side and caused him to run away from "that girl."

Before you say what you are thinking, guys are not immune from causing pain. They have their own way of causing hurt.  Today I am just relating the thought of how poetry is more difficult for guys to admit that they could write their own hurtin' "somebody done somebody wrong song."

 

 

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for the reminder of why I am so happy my teen years are behind me.

 

A little Georgia Wisdom: Think before you speak no matter what your age.  Words can hurt, and words can come back to haunt you.

 

Peace

Starring out the window, I watch the sun and clouds work together to help the leaves on my favorite tree cast shadows on the yard outside. This gives me a feeling of peace. I really don't understand why at this point this scene gives me peace.  I am reminded of scripture.  Philippians 4:7 which says    "and the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."

This past weeks have been stressful for my family.  Death comes and escorts our friends and family to their Heavenly home, and we are saddened by the loss.  We are saddened by unfinished conversations, the silence of laughter, the pain we see in the faces of family, and then there is the joy of knowing that with their own words they made sure that the most important decision to accept Christ and His salvation had been taken care of in this life. Bernice and Elizabeth (Lib) were ready to go; however, we were not ready to let them go.

Bernice fought the good fight with cancer.  She had survived three types of cancer and the fourth was no so gracious. Lib had a heart attack.  There is no good way to go.  Bernice's family had some time to prepare if that is even possible; however, Lib was gone so quickly.  How does one prepare to say good-bye?

The memories each of us has for these two ladies will be forever etched in our hearts.  I chose to remember their laughter.  The quick wit each had can't be adequately shared.  As the old saying goes, "you had to be there."  They both had it.  They saw life as it was and accepted it.  I don't remember either of them trying to change someone's thoughts to fit their  own.  They shared their thoughts, but neither never tied to "make" you see it their way.

They both were good listeners.

Lib was so  kind to me when she was a teenager and then later she was kind when I was one. She heard my teenage stories and never laughed at how silly they were. She made me feel grown-up.  She didn't even get mad at me when I fell down the front steps with her baby.  She knew is was an accident. I was so scared, but Lib's baby daughter, Vickie, was okay.  I cried, but Vickie  and Lib didn't. 

Lib came to visit my parents often.  They lived across the road from her.  We would gather at my parents and have coffee.  Mama usually had a chocolate cake.  I loved those visits.  After I married, I gathered there too and had coffee and cake along with conversations that filled the community with lots of laughter.. 

Bernice would join us at Mama and Daddy's house also.  One day she and I met up there (like many, many times before) and we were complaining about how our shoes were so uncomfortable.  She tried on my shoes and I tried on hers.  We both left that day with comfortable shoes...

Her children have given me some of her shoes.  We both liked shoes and pocketbooks.  I resisted the temptation to take some pocketbooks home.  Barry already thinks I have to many.

Bernice wanted to publish another cookbook.  She had already, with her children's help, put one together as a fundraiser.  On the days that I was blessed to spend time with her, we started the wheels in motion to fulfill her dream of publishing another one.  She won't get to see this one completed, but her daughter Cindy, her sister, Bessie, and I have vowed to complete this project. Her whole family will be working on this cookbook.  Friends are joining this effort too.  We will have a cookbook ready by the end of June to send to the publisher.

If you would like to have one of these cookbooks, they will sale for $15.00.  Please email me at churches265@yahoo.com and I will send you an address.  We would love to pre-sale as many as possible.  The monies from the sale of these books will go to pay her mounting doctor and hospital bills.  Living with cancer is not cheap.  The cost is unreal. 

The services are over, the tears that flowed freely have started to slow down, and we are remembering and laughing.  You know, that is the way I want to be remembered.  Tell the funny stories, laugh at the silly things I did, and remember that I was a born again Christian who loved the Lord.


It is me, again, Lord, thanking you for the opportunity to grow up with cousins like Bernice and Lib.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Take time to spend with relatives by getting to know them as friends. Make sure you save those special moments and memories in your heart.