snowflakes
gentle reminders that angels are close by...
angels touching our souls... and the landscape we share with the ancestors.
Patience ...
such a simple word
and yet a goal so difficult to reach and then hold on to.
Quiet moments and twinkling white lights fill our living room on the wooded hillside...
as I place the perch in a lemon butter in a blue skillet on my old stove
with spinach ...
and baby baked potatoes.
A visit and a cup of tea with dear friends stopping by to enjoy our Christmas incompleteness...
and fresh baked banana nut bread...made with the heart from the circle of life... full of simple gifts and the kindness of friends.
The promise of tomorrow fills us with a renewed hope as we edge closer
to a new understanding of compassion for our fragility...
tomorrow is almost here...
and with the help of a grandchild's wide eyed visit from Saint Nick...Father Christmas...
in his living room with other wide eyed children and have open hearts to the joy of the season.
Quiet moments ...and twinkling white lights
transform my spirit
cradle my soul
and offer a moment to hold on to my Love.
Our gratitude goes out to all the kindest of friends who have contacted us with words of encouragement and shared strength for our journey. Erin is hosting the Mother's club tomorrow and we will go and celebrate Santa's mysterious arrival in Cole's heart. I realize that not everyone has a loved one to share this often over materialized financial extravaganza so tonight as I finish up a not too gracious big snowman cookie I am already planning to make more crooked snowman for others who might need a sugary uplifting experience. My mind drifts to a time when I was in my mother's small kitchen painting her delicious sugar cookies with bright colors of icings and sprinkles. Of course I remember which sibling licked the butter knife when they thought no one was watching. We were not a Martha Stewart family but the music was on the radio and laughter filled the room and our hearts were bonded in a moment in time. I was not able to capture the moment because we did not have a camera...oh I had my beloved Brownie Box camera but no film. I have my mother's rolling pin...an old apron worn and torn in places... her green worn cookbook and memories at the old fashion aluminum kitchen table. I miss my mother tonight but I will always be inspired by this cheerful little woman who was a champion in all six of our eyes. Dad was famous with us for finding a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree that offered many challenges for us to decorate ... like I said we were not a Martha Stewart family. Dad's solution for a holey Christmas tree was installing a squealing or squawking Christmas bird that announced everyone who happened to walk by our sorry but loved Christmas tree. When the grandchildren began to arrive in our family we even had a Godzilla who walked and spit sparks of fire...I think Dad had the most fun with these silly collectibles. I am learning from my ebay friends that these 1960 toys are all highly collectible by others who shared these unusual Christmas memories. I do need to get back to work...but now I have my heart set on creating a memory and carrying this experience into the next decades. Imagine and Live in Peace, Mary Helen Fernandez Stewart
I always picked the less than perfect tree---they provided *holes* to really decorate in! Loved them!!! I hate these trimmed CONES that they pass as trees now......
ReplyDeleteYou two take care; short blip here as I am off to an early Dr. Appt and am somewhat comatose at the moment...need more coffee.
(((HUGS!!!)))
XXOO!!
Anne
As always, your kindness resonates out to the world through your words & how the world is viewed through your eyes. Love the "crooked" snowman cookie, and the descriptions of your childhood. They do come flooding back this time of year, I think especially so when our parents are no longer with us. Gentle wishes to you and yours.
ReplyDeletePS Don't have momma's cookbook, but do have Granny Pritchard's, which I cherish...
Lovely memories. Sometimes you don't need a camera when you keep those memories in your heart.
ReplyDeleteWe cut our tree down each year. John would play his fiddle and we would sing to the tree,a song the children made up to thank it for being our Christmas tree. It was put up at Thanksgiving and not taken down until well into the month of January. It was loved. Then it was put out in a snowbank for the rest of the winter to be admired by all. :)Bea