I decided to look at the'fun' rather than the scary side of Halloween, and came up with this little treat - Hope it gives you a smile!

Hallowe'en Fairies?

They're rarely seen

On Hallowe'en,

But you might hear them call;

With twittering notes,

In colourful coats,

Hiding out in the leaves

Every Fall.

They fly through the trees,

And land where they please,

Filling the air with their giggles;

When you're not aware,

They'll pull on your hair,

And laugh as they watch

You squiggle! 

You don't need to run,

They just want to have fun,

They'd rather have smiles

Than candy,

So this Hallowe'en,

If those fairies are seen,

Just keep your best laughs handy!

Home For Remembrance Day

Home for Remembrance Day!

Sometimes our eyes speak louder than our mouths - the ultimate body language.  As I stared into two soft eyes in a picture frame, the voice of a young soldier spoke loud enough that I finally paid attention,  "Please, it is time - I want to go home."

 While visiting an antique shop, years ago, I had purchased a photograph of a very young WWII soldier, beautifully preserved in a handsome oval frame, protected by convex glass.  Not paying so much attention to the picture as to the frame, which I thought I might re-purpose to enhance one of my own oil paintings, I brought it home - and there it stood at the back of a shelf, with a growing assortment of other picture frames.

  It came with us as we moved from our farm in Osgoode to our new home in Prescott six years ago; still just another lovely potential picture border, until a couple of weeks ago.  That's when I decided to stop being so stubbornly selfish, and to start purging some of the 'treasures' that I had squirreled away in my art closet.  I was thinking of passing it along to a local charity sale with some of the other frames, until my husband thankfully intervened and pulled it out of my donation pile.   There I stood once again, staring into brave eyes that were patiently waiting;  I carefully removed the picture from the oval, and there on the back was the name of the soldier: Mr. Alf Root, Lansdowne, Ont. with what I assumed was his war tag number written at the top: 2310.

  With his picture now back in the frame, the hunt is on - I find myself offering to be the legs for this man: I'm walking about - on my computer, trying to find someone who can help identify his family.  So many times, I have gone on extended nostalgic journeys back in time whenever I pull out our own family pictures and albums and hear again our loved ones voices.  I believe that those who have touched our hearts and souls throughout our lives continue to communicate with us, that our spirits go on forever, fellow travellers on our homeward journey.
 Therefore, I will persevere with my walking fingers, and as those eyes keep entreating me, perhaps I can help return this one soldier home, to the arms of one of his own family members for Remembrance Day.   

A Mother's Reflection:

My newborn slept against my breast,

And I whispered, "How beautiful."

I held him out to the world,

And it echoed, "How beautiful."

I sent him into the world,

And the world touched him

And I felt pride, and I felt fear.

He came home wounded,

And I held him against my breast,

And I whispered,  "How unfair."

Then I sent him out again,

Armed with tools that I hoped would help:

Love, faith, patience, tolerance, kindness, listening skills,

And I said to him, "Be my peacemaker."

He came back home confused and wounded,

And I said to him, "Don't despair, you are growing, and I am so proud of you,

This pain will be part of your strengthening."

And he went back into the world,

Bruised, but determined and hopeful.

Then he laughed,

And the heart of the world skipped a beat,

For he had touched the world, and it had responded,

He became aware of a unique something within that he possessed,

That was his to build, develop, and share.

He wondered aloud, "Who am I?"

And a voice answered;

He knew that voice,

It whispered, "How beautiful."

And again,

"You are mine, you are more precious

Than you can possibly imagine."

And this mother echoed in gratitude,

"How beautiful!"

My Ruby Shoes

My Ruby Shoes

Click, click, 'There's no place like home!'   There are so many clichés surrounding this one word, 'home' - that space where we feel that we belong, where we head for comfort when the pressures of life in the big world threaten to crush us, where unconditional love is generously dished out, satisfying our true hunger.

 A warm and welcoming home might not be a reality for all of us, but we all have a home that has nothing to do with our physical dwelling places, one that is located within our hearts, calling us to come in for regular meals of encouragement, to be bandaged up with a few strong hugs, to set down our load of harmful clutter.  We are all responsible for making sure that our 'home's welcome mat is dusted off and prominently displayed in our eyes and smiles; no fancy fixtures needed - just the genuine warmth of a little light.

The key is always under the mat - or tucked into the toe of a ruby shoe.  Those shoes are more than just decorative - they're a sparkling porthole that calls to each of us to follow our own unique path that leads to home - where the heart is:

My Ruby Shoes

My heart is walking,

Walking around,

In a pair of ruby shoes,

And wondering about

That clicking sound

That it cannot seem to lose.

With every step,

And every click,

It listens for a clue;

It dares not stop

Nor take them off,

Though they're leading it somewhere new.

I realize that my

Heart seems to have

A  destiny all its own,

And those clicking sounds

Are its gentle waves 

Carrying me back home.

To home,

Not a place,

But a state of mind

Where warmth and welcome meet,

Where love walks around in ruby shoes

That click with each heartbeat.

Just Call Me Smiley!

I'm writing my story - the story of my life - moment by moment with each breath and with every action that I take. 

Day No. 24,646 (How scary is that!):

 I just finished doing a session of Tai Chi - it is a very calming exercise, meditative and thought inspiring.  A voice inside reminded me that one of our basic needs is that of creating something to pass along, of using the inspirations that we receive, to leave our mark, to build up this world in some way. 

"Edie, it said, (how cheeky, using my first name!) What inspired you growing up - a smile perhaps?"

 Well, now that you mention it - Yes, perhaps -  As I call to mind some of the many little moments and sparks that I gathered like treasures and stored in my heart, I realize that they have become a part of me.

  I remember being called 'smiley' when I was a young girl, and of feeling unsure of whether that was a good or bad thing to be - a sign of weakness or of strength?  It seemed that I needed to have an important reason to smile, or it left me looking a little simple.

 As I matured, that smiling thing became more and more of an asset.  I realized that there are no invalid reasons for a true, warm smile, but many reasons to avoid a cruel sneer or a frown -  Those sad faces pull our hearts into a frown as well, and it's very hard to lift our hearts and put it into our efforts if there is a big sad foot stepping on it.  There is much bravery in a soul that finds the strength to lift that foot and smile forth from a heart that is struggling or in pain, yet in that small action, there is healing for the giver and receiver.

I know from my own life's experiences that there are no words that wield as much power to reach out to another, to convey understanding, as the gesture of a genuine smile, and a kind touch on the shoulder in a moment of sadness, difficulty or stress.  Then again, a smile and a hug is even better, and a smile, a hug and a helping hand is the triple crown winner! 

 I wrote a little poem that I want to include in my fourth 'puddle' book that will give tribute to these three gifts:  'A smile, a hug and a helping hand'.

The ability of those gifts to spread out and gain wisdom, love, and new friends as they grow is a positive tool that I hope every child who picks them up will benefit from and use to build up his or her own world, their own life's story.

Now it's time to pull on my work gloves;  This gardener's prayer:  That we all dig into this garden called life, planting seeds of loving thoughts, watering them with a gentle rain of warm hugs, and using our helping hands to pull out the weeds of hate and ignorance; May our garden of smiles grow into strong actions to help in the healing of this precious world so much in need of hope-filled smiles - a bounty for all to share for so many good reasons!

Go forth - Be Brave, Be Kind.

It was just a bottle of ginger ale, but I keep the memory of it in a very special room in my mind - the one that holds my small acts of bravery.

My mother passed away a few years ago now; One day, as I was leaving the hospital room where she spent an unfortunate part of her last years, I listened to a conversation taking place between a male nurse and the patient in the bed next to Mom's.  That lady's illness had affected her personality and she had become very difficult to deal with.  She was demanding a drink of ginger ale, which the poor nurse did not have access to.  As I got into the elevator and headed downstairs, I heard that voice in my heart speaking up: "A ginger ale from the machine downstairs would make two people happy right now - that  distressed patient, and the nurse who was trying to cope with more patients than he should have had to handle."   I fought my way past the cowardly voice of 'It's not your problem, Edie', and for the minimal price of $1.00, I turned around and brought that struggling lady, and the surprised, grateful nurse a gift - a bright shiny bottle of ginger ale!

It takes courage to perform an act of kindness, even one as small as the gift of a bottle of ginger ale.   The rewards go far beyond the immediate action - I can still feel the effervescent bubbles that welled up inside of me, causing me to thank God for allowing me to help someone even in this small way.  They carried me, and made my footsteps a lot lighter than they had been when I left Mom's bedside - The real gift was actually given to me.

Borrowing a line from Cinderella's mother:  'Have courage and Be kind'!

Putting A Spring In My 'To Do' List!

The water on the cover of our pool is now ice-free and sparkling in the sunshine- I'm waiting for our yearly visit by the two mallard ducks who think it is some sort of an inviting pond!  I always look forward to them, as I do the neat, feathered little beacons of hope that visit our bird feeder - a compliment to our humble hospitality. 

 It's nice to feel that Spring sunshine pouring into my thoughts and jogging them into positive action.  Everything is starting to come alive again out there, in the great outdoors, and in here, in the 'struggling to be positive' indoors of my mind.  My inner to-do list was starting to grow out of control before Spring was even officially here, and now I am having yet another think about that list:

  Two of our good neighbours have just recently had to leave their homes and accept the reality of a very different life in hospital -  a reminder that changes in our lives can happen quite abruptly, mocking the to-do list still sitting on the tables of our mind.  If those good people had to re-write their lists, I'm sure that yard and housework would be moved down in priority by a huge drop, replaced by taking one more hour to sit outside under the trees and listen to the sounds of life happening around them; one more cup of tea or coffee with family and friends, another chance to choose their own music to listen to, and one more dance with a spouse, child, or grandchild.

I've written this wish list for them:

One more dance,

One more song,

Some happy steps,

On feet, still strong;

One more day,

One more hour

To hear a bird,

To smell a flower;

To find within,

A child's pure heart

To light my path

Before we part,

And please, dear Lord,

A friendly smile,

To take with me

On my last mile.