My Mother's Coat

As I brought it out, and offered it
To one I did not know,
I felt Mom's essence all around
 As she wisely let me know:
This lovely coat was given me
At a time when I was low,
Now someone else is waiting,
It's time to let it go;
My love that lived within its arms
Was bequeathed to you bit by bit,
Through good and bad, as years went by,
It never lost its fit;
 
I tried to find some hope each day
To add to my coat's lining,
To save within its pockets,
And keep its spirit shining;
Now someone else is shivering,
From the cold, or lack of love,
Loneliness can be very harsh
Despite the warmest glove;
 
There is no need to feel a loss,
Its journey must go on;
The gratitude I felt back then
When Winter winds blew strong,
I pass to you, and use your hands
To share some kindness still;
Some mother will be grateful
For a shelter from the chill;
A coat is only useful
When it's giving warmth away,
So don't regret this letting go,
My love is here to stay.
 
                Thank you Mom

 

An Ode To The Whittler

How much wood would a whittler whittle if a whittler could whittle wood?

And why does the whittler whittle even when no one tells him he should?

 

Every creation is a part of God's plan, commissioned by Him; He loves our mistakes as much as our successes, for they show Him that we have answered His call - that we have stepped forward, that we are trying. The Master Whittler has faith in us and is always hopefully waiting  to answer any requests we have for assistance in how to use the tools he has given us.  One of man's basic needs is the need to share - No matter our colour, race, creed, or orientation, we all share a common desire to draw the very best out of whatever creative medium calls to us and to share our efforts. 

God  holds us closely, turns us in His hands, loves us in spite of and because of our flaws, and smiles in wonder at His creation.

 

He took the block of wood in hand,

And sensed its inner seed;

Within the grain, a spirit,

Beckoning to be freed;

 

He closed his eyes and held it still,

And still did the Whittler wait,

For the voice that lay beneath the skin

Of  this wood inanimate;

 

He felt its roughness, and its warmth,

As he slowly made a start;

With hopeful eyes,

He whittled, 'till he

Gently formed its heart;

 

His gaze fell on an error

As he held it to the light,

A mistake, or a suggestion

To re-direct his sight?

 

He bent his frame into the work

As he held it reverently,

Lost track of worry, time, and place,

And let his mind go free;

 

Smoothed at last, and polished,

He turned it in his hand,

Smiled in grateful wonder,

And swept away the sand;

 

The Master watches, and He guides

The hands of everyone,

And we cannot know the outcome,

Until the Whittler's done.

 

Lord, I am not perfect,

But I know that you are not finished with me yet;

When you are, I will be exactly what and where I am supposed to be.

 

 

                Hopefulness

Let me walk today in hopefulness,

And open my gifts with glee,

Let hearty laughter

Tickle my toes,

And wash off the hurt     

Of yesterday's woes.

Setting my spirit free;

 

Let me paint a picture of playfulness,

A visual song of joy;

Let my soul create

A work so bright,

From a hopeful palette

Filled with light,

That fear cannot destroy;

 

Let me greet each day with gratefulness,

For it offers a brand new start;

With my ears attuned

To the wonder of sound,

A smile on my lips

To prepare the ground,

For the words of a hopeful heart;

 

Like the little birds playing o'er fields of grain,

Falling, then touching, and rising again,

Let us offer glad thanks

For the golden expanse,

That beckons us all

To create our own dance,

Not sit on the sidelines of hopefulness.

 

 

 

    A Song Of Hope

 

Whenever sadness settles in,

nettles in,

meddles in,

The song that I am coaxing

From the recess of my heart,

I give my smile a hefty spin,

A swing, a lift, and then, a grin

Breaks out and like a little bird

Soars into the sunlight, to where its song will start;

 

It tells me there is light out there,

Joy out there,   

Hope out there,

Out past the melancholy -

The lazy spirit's haunt,

I'll free my feet and drop those shoes,

The past is past, the future new,

I still have things to say and do;

Life is so much more;

 

Every moment's promise is

A chance for us,

To build and thus,

To add to God's creation,

The gifts we have to share;

Let our words express our very best,

Thoughtful works of art;

An instrument as yet unstrung,

A song of hope as yet unsung,

Waits to add its colour

To the canvass of the heart.

Light, Love, and Shadows

'Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you.' - Maori proverb

Where do we look when the light is obscured,

And the shadows seem to have broken their bonds,

When we feel that hope is a distant dream,

And the love within

Is drowned in the din

Of our soul crying out 

For a road past our doubt,

Where surely, there must be a happy beyond;

Those shadows fall back when we turn towards the light,

For darkness cannot intrude into love,

Though it looms so large at end of the day,

And though it may try

To foster the lie

That it is much stronger,

That it will last longer;

 Love always chases the darkness away;

To ebb or grow brighter is our choice to make;

As we open the portals of our eyes and smiles,

And send our love flying in 'heartbeams' of light,

Our search comes full circle,

We need look no further,

The prayers of the humble,

Cause darkness to crumble,

We are masters of shadows; they cower in fright.

You know that isolation is getting to you when you start looking at mice as kindred spirits!

As I was meditating my way through some Tai Chi movements this morning, I happened to notice a mousetrap set in the corner of the room, and my mind suddenly headed off on a nostalgia trip.   It took me back to some of my early artistic endeavours; children's pictures that included  some of these wee folk dressed up in quaint costumes; happy little pictures, of happy little creatures, in happy little settings.

In this time of isolation, when our individual personal environments are drastically reduced, when our tactile interaction with those we love is interrupted,  I am reminded that we all share a larger family home:  Nature waits, with its arms wide open, to welcome our long-overdue attention and appreciation, and to give back happiness in return - we need look no further than the small, simple things.

  A Mousey Meditation!

As I sat, meditating,

And searching for light,

An ominous mouse trap

Came into my sight;

Off in a corner,

Of my humble house,

Sitting there, waiting

For some little mouse

To come, uninvited,

And fall for the trap;

I winced as I thought of him

Caught with a snap!

Perhaps that wee creature

Was watching me too,

Waiting nearby,

And seeing right through

My frustrated efforts,

As I tried too hard

To find life's deep meaning;

He'd catch me off guard;

Keeping it simple,

He'd gobble the cheese,

And leave with a 'thank you!'

As bold as you please,

Wishing me luck,

As I seemed to be stuck,

Caught in my own mousetrap! 

  Keep it simple -  gobble the love, leave pride in the trap!

I Can't Breathe  

With recent fearful events unfolding around the world, and in particular with the focus on systemic racism that was brought to light so vividly and terribly in Minneapolis this past week, I borrowed the phrase spoken by George Floyd as he died;

I Can't Breathe!

Watching cruelty unfold,

The attack on our soul,

The sliding of hope,

Down a dangerous slope,

We are better than that - aren't we?

I felt the suffocation,

I can't breathe!

The bully and bullied,

Two victims collide,

Coloured by two worlds,

While we stand and chide,

Do we consider ourselves a threat to others?

That's where fear does its best work,

I can't breathe!

Feeling fear taking hold,

Tightening its grip,

Waiting for hope

To falter and slip;

In the grip of depression,

I thrashed in the dark;

I can't breathe!

Afraid of our fellow man,

Afraid for our health,

Afraid for what might come,

The loss of our wealth,

When did  we welcome fear,

Ask it to reign,

I asked my inner child, "How did we get here?”

With a heavy sigh, she cried,

I can't breathe!

Then I felt a tug from my memory,

A tiny child in colours bright,

Reaching up to hold my hand,

No sign of anger or of fright,

Just love in all its innocence,

She poured her joy into my soul,

And took my breath away;

I can't breathe!