SORROW AND BLESSING

Here is the story for the Blog Event “Finish It!” #4 from Author S B Mazing.

They were standing on top of the mountain, overlooking the valley and the ocean. It was hard to believe that they were here after all they’ve been through
Please continue…

They slipped their arms around each other. No words escaped their lips. The whole scene whispered peace. It had been a long time since they had stood in this place.

She sighed. “Oh, darling, it is so beautiful.”

He nodded, and then looked down at her from his 12 inches above her. “We have gone through a lot, haven’t we? How are you doing?”

“Great,” she responded and looked up at him with a smile. “And you?”

He smiled. “Great. Guess we should go to the cabin.”

They turned and walked hand in hand down the path. The valley and the ocean receded behind the line of the mountain, but it didn’t bother her. It would be there for a long time. Much longer than they would! Her mind went backwards over the last few years. As a young girl, her family had come to this place on vacation and spent the week in the very cabin they were headed to now. She and her new husband had honeymooned here. Then, they had come here after the first and second miscarriages and after the doctor’s words, “I’m sorry. You will never be able to have children.” Her days had been filled with prayer and weeping. Her pastor suggested they take some time away to receive God’s comfort. She was glad he didn’t mention adoption. It would have hurt too much to think about it right now. Her husband felt the same way. He had voiced it as they left the pastor’s study and made their plans to go to the cabin.

She cast a glance in her husband’s direction as they walked down the path. Was he remembering?

The cabin was warm and inviting against the cool mountain air. Her husband had built a fire just before they walked up the mountainside to view the valley and ocean.

“How about some popcorn?” he asked.

She nodded. Popcorn. How often she had eaten popcorn in this place!

He went into the kitchen and in a few minutes, she heard popping coming from the microwave. It was so relaxing to be here. A good place to recuperate. Or just relax with thanksgiving.

“Father God,” she said in a low voice, “thank you for the way you have worked in our lives. It was so hard to lose those two babies. And it was devastating to have the doctor say we would never be able to have a baby.” Tears rose in her eyes. The thought of it even after all these years brought  sadness. She smiled. “But you had plans for us. And I am so grateful. The way to joy in trusting you is not an easy one.”

Staying those few days in the cabin after the loss of her babies had helped ease her sorrow, but she had struggled with the doctor’s words. How could she accept that there never would be babies? As the weeks had gone by, adoption came into the conversation between her and her husband. It was hard to accept going this way. It was like a final sentence on giving birth. But finally, as she read her Bible and worshiped in church, she realized this was God’s plan for them. They had come back to the cabin to think and pray about the future. Then they had gone home and began the proceedings of adoption.

Her husband brought in the bowl of popcorn and sat down beside her. “A penny for your thoughts.”

She laughed. “Only a penny?”

“Well, maybe a nickel if they’re good,” he teased.

“I was thinking about the past, of course.” She leaned against him. “I was so sad back then. We both were. And God opened a door, not just for one baby, but for two. Little Carla and Daniel have made our lives complete. God’s gifts to us.”

“Yes. Daniel is in third grade and Carla is in first. They grow so fast,” her husband added.

She smiled. “God has taken us through the good times and the bad. I am so thankful.”

Her husband leaned over and kissed her. “Me, too. And I think it is time to bring them up here. Don’t know why we didn’t do it before.”

“Oh, that would be so great!”

Her husband put a piece of popcorn in her mouth. “Now, my love, eat your popcorn.”

LOVE IS

LOVE IS . . . a poetry challenge

I want to thank Lightwalker1 for nominating for this task.
The task is to write 10 lines about what you believe Love represents or as the title suggests LOVE IS…..!
Each line begins with the word Love and is only 4 words long. Once the poem is written – challenge 15 other bloggers to do the same.
Each person I challenge does not have to accept. This is for fun. I certainly had fun coming up with my list of what Love is.
I hope you enjoy my submission and those I have challenged.

Here is my “Love Is”
Love never stays inward
Love always looks outward
Love gives of itself
Love keeps its word

Love reacts in patience
Love never is rude
Love walks with manners
Love looks for the truth

Love listens to others
Love walks in respect

I would like to challenge these bloggers to write their poem:
Looking4Godtoday
Meredith’s Musings
Lightning Bug
no plain janie
Pure Glory
Nutstrok
fitly spoken
Author S B Mazing
My Thoughts on a Page
Passion through Poetry
trees of transition
luckiest
A Father, Writer, and Logistics Wizard
adoptingjames
Good Woman

FORTY-ONE YEARS EARLIER

My honey and me 1972
My honey and me 1972

Author S B Mazing asked if we wanted to share our stories. Here is mine.

My husband was such a romantic. He came to our church and decided that if he was to find a girl, he would join the choir! So that is what he did. After a couple choir practices, he invited me to go out for coffee after the practice. I agreed. We did that a couple times, then I guess he decided to go a little farther on that path! He invited me on a date. When he arrived at the house to pick me up, he had a single rose bud in his hand. It was probably more effective than a whole bunch of roses! He even opened the car door for me! We went to dinner and then to a performance of flamenco players. It was such a neat evening–one to be remembered!

That was in March of 1965. A whirlwind courtship followed and we were married in December of that year! We were married for forty-one years and it was so neat to have a romantic husband! Not that other things didn’t matter, but that was an extra.

FINGERS

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?

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

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

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

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

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

Trusting God when my world runs roughshod over me

Relying on Him when my shoulders feel heavy with

utter frustration over each situation that

streams into my days, unbidden to stay,

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

God who has died that I might remember He

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

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