All posts by busy lady

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About busy lady

Once upon a time I was retired. But I came to live with my younger daughter and homeschooled her oldest son for two years. He went to school for 8th grade and now is in high school. I get to spend lots of time with my other three grandchildren. I write poetry and enjoy making books of them. I don't live with my daughter now; I have my own apartment which I love, and my own little kitty, which I named Shere Khan. However, unlike his name sake, he is not a brave, mean kitty. But I like it that way! I live only a few miles from my daughter and her family. I wish my other daughter was closer, but two hours away is not bad. Her three boys are all teenagers now. Its fun to be a grandma! My life is good.

FINGERS

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WRITING 201: Poetry Challenge for 2/24/15

Prompt: fingers; form: prose poetry; device: assonance

HIS FINGERS
With His fingers, God created all the universe and me. Just as sure, His fingers stir my heart in healing for my soul. I know that as I walk my path, nothing will defeat me, for He has pinned me to His heart. As I learn from His gentle ways, I am spurred to serve with my fingers those in my life, that they may win when life bangs their shins or breaks their bones. He desires that His fingers may bring healing into their living as they are assured of His love.

WHERE COULD SHE BE?

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Another story to complete from Author S B Mazing in her Blog Event Finish It. Hope you enjoy.

He looked around. Where did she go? She was just standing next to him and now she was no longer there. Panic started to take over! How could he have lost her! How could she have disappeared so quickly? And how would he be able to find her again here and now? 

He took a deep breath. This had happened before. He had lost her before in a store and found her  but not in a super store like this! They had come in together, but she must have lagged behind, seeing something that caught her fancy. Oh if only he had a cell phone. His son had urged him to get one for him and Mom, but he didn’t want to get into that technology, not at 70! But he was having second thoughts! At least he could locate her without looking for hours.

He took another deep breath. What could have caught her attention? A word seemed to wave in front of him like a red flag. He remembered walking by the fabric department as they did their shopping. He groaned. What was the old expression? “She who died with the most fabric wins.” He sighed. She was a good woman. Guess everyone had to have their vices! He sighed.

Now where would he find the fabric department? He began to push his cart down an aisle. A clerk walked by him. “Miss!” he called.

She turned. “May I help you?”

She was so nice, he thought. “Where is your fabric department?”

“Follow me, sir,” she said with a smile. They walked down a large aisle, past several departments. “Here it is, Sir. May I help you with something else?”

Just finding my wife, he thought, but only said outloud, “Thanks. I’m okay now.”

The clerk smiled and left him to his search. He pushed his cart for a few steps and then spied his wife, admiring some fabric.

“Find something?” he asked.

His wife turned and smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I just couldn’t resist looking at it. I don’t need anything right now. I’m in the middle of a project.” She paused and then went on with a determined look on her face, “I need to finish it before I start another. Did we get everything we need?”

He nodded. “We can go home now. But as soon as I get home, I calling Daniel and asking him about cell phones.”

Mean girls cyberbully adults on social media

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What are we teaching young people when they see awful posts on Facebook and other social media?

Gale A. Molinari's avatargalesmind

mean girls

Just saw some more mean girl menopausal women gang up and attack another woman on her wall. What is it with Facebook that makes grown women act like they are seventeen year olds still in high school? Are they living out their teen fantasies by doing this stuff? Some of the language is so foul and some of the things that are said could never be repeated in any decent society. Call me naive but I just don’t get what they get out of it. You would think by the time you are an adult you would know better.

Often times these same cyberbullies are the ones that would run and hide in real life. The keyboard makes them brave. They say whatever pops into their heads accusing others of all kinds of vile deeds. Why in the world if you think someone is doing something illegal you wouldn’t go…

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Writing 201: Poetry challenge–Elegy

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Here is my elegy for the poetry contest. It has been a big challenge and lots of fun.

MEMORIES’ FOG
Suitcases packed, the boxes all stacked high
Moving van soon would arrive at the door.
Thirty years living now left in the fog file
of memories lived, now left on the shore

of oceans of happenings lived every day past:
front porch where families gathered at times,
back yard where children played even in darkness
windows where wind blew in music of chimes,

streets that we traveled in summer and winter,
parks where we walked and the kids had their fun,
snowstorms that meant new men in the yard’s snow
(they couldn’t hide so they’d melt in the sun).

So many memories filled up the fog file.
Never forgotten, they don’t disappear.
New ones replace and the old ones grow dim.
We’ll visit that fog file with smiles in our tears.

Writing 201: Poetry Challenge: Animal, concrete, enjambent

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The Poetry challenge: Prompt: animal; form: concrete; device: enjambment. My prompt is a cat; in concrete, I tried to do the poetry in the form of a cat; in enjambment, each line ends with a /, meaning the sentence goes onto the next line. Hope you enjoy it.

Pay attention!
Monster Cat
                              
			        He’s
                            m a s t e r
                       of the house or so
                     he  thinks, demanding 
                 what he wants for you to do./
                 He'll tell the message so you 
                  will not miss/ his wish. His
                     staring eyes  will pierce
                       you through./ So regal
                      in his  stature as he sits/
                   before you thinking you will read
                 his  mind./   Sometimes  his  eyes will
               close while sitting straight,/ but still his
               body sits in perfect line./  Just put an empty
               box   where  he  can  see/  perhaps a bowl that
               he can fit into./ He can’t resist; he’ll squeeze
               his body in./ Even an empty tissue  box might do./ 
               No dirty fur for this four-legged one./His tongue is
                busy cleaning up his fur./ (Can you imagine bathing
                 just like this?)/ But cleanliness is part of his 
                     allure./ And yet when one has grabbed your
                     heart,/ you're his.  He  cuddles near with a 
                 purr,/ demanding  that  you  pet  him. Slave concurs,/ 
                not just  with  loving  hands,  but  says,  "Yes, sir."

Writing 201: Poetry challenge Trust

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A poem for the challenge of Trust, Acrostic, Internal Rhyme

T Trusting God when my world runs roughshod over me

R Relying on Him when my shoulders feel heavy with

U utter frustration over each situation that

S streams into my days, unbidden to stay,

T taking peace God has given. I lift up my eyes to

G God who has died that I might remember He

O opens the door to life in abundance, for I am His

D daughter and He is my Father. I put all in His hands.

Finish It 2

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This is the second story beginning for “Finish It” by Author S B Mazing.

How was it possible that she ended up here? She was so careful, followed the rules and took no risks whatsoever.

How many times had she had asked herself that as she looked at the final divorce papers. She had done everything she knew to have a good marriage and now her fifteen year marriage was ending. Paul had found someone he thought “better suited him.”

Her mom hugged her close when Hannah showed her the divorce papers. “Oh, my sweet child,” she had said, “I am so sorry. Sometimes the other person turns our care, our rules, and lack of risks on their heads. There are always risks in human relationships. We humans are so self-centered, even when we are at our best. It doesn’t excuse the bad that we do, but knowing that helps us deal with others’ failures. And our own.”

And as the months passed in waiting for the divorce to be final, she struggled between wanting Paul to return and never wanting to see him again. But unless God changed his heart, he wasn’t coming back. And it wasn’t fair to her daughters to keep him out of their lives or to try to make them hate him.

Her mother was her constant encouragement not to let bitterness control her life. “He is still their father and they want him to be part of their lives,” she counseled. “Besides, bitterness only eats you up.” She hugged Hannah often and then added her favorite quote, “ ‘Forgiveness releases the prisoner, which is you.’ My darling, look what God has done for you.”

Hannah didn’t want to hear that at first. How could she do that? Paul had ruined her life and the lives of their daughters! But as she struggled in prayer each night, praying for grace to not let her own heartache make her daughters’ lives harder, she began to find light wedging into her darkness. As the days put distance between the divorce papers and the present day, she watched her husband interact with her daughters. Her urge to yell at him softened.

One day, her twelve year old came to her. “Mom,” she asked, “can I ask you a question? It’s about you and Daddy.”

Hannah felt her throat tighten, but she nodded. “Of course.”

“My friend, Silvy–her parents are divorced. But her mom makes life miserable when her dad comes to visit and tries to keep him from seeing her. It is so hard for her. Mom, you don’t act that way.”

Hannah hugged her daughter. “Oh, my girl. Your Grandma said something to me when I learned that Daddy and I were getting a divorce. She told me her favorite quote: ‘Forgiveness releases the prisoner, which is you.’ Then she added, ‘My darling, look what God has done for you.’ I know you love Daddy and he loves you, even though he decided not to live here anymore. I wish it could be different, but it isn’t. So, I have learned to walk in that. I don’t want to be Daddy’s enemy.”

Her daughter smiled. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.” She paused and added slowly, her smile fading, “I love Daddy, too.”

Hannah smiled. “I’m glad.”

Her daughter kissed her cheek and skipped out of the room. Hannah reflected on what she had said. Life had not been easy the last few years, but light had penetrated the darkness. She whispered a quick prayer before she went back to her chores: “Thank you, Father, for your forgiveness and for your grace to me to walk in that same forgiveness. I may still hurt, but I am no longer a prisoner.”