Heart’s Harvest

     The roosters had started crowing early this morning; well maybe it just seemed that way because I’d gone to bed late. Those darned chickens had been causing a ruckus and Noah and I had discovered a fox attempting to break into the hen house. We’d chased it away and then after checking the girls, I discovered that Noah’s part time worker had used regular wire instead of the galvanized hardware cloth I’d bought for that particular project. Brad’s mistake had almost cost me my sweet girls and my best egg layer, Mildred.

     Anger had me vibrating and I could actually feel my hands shaking. My husband and I had spent the next five hours putting the galvanized cloth in place to keep out any other predators. It was a temporary measure until everything could be done properly in the morning light.

     I’d been running my mouth because I was so angry and was just surprised Noah hadn’t chucked me in the pond. I was kind of getting used to it. It wasn’t his fault and I’d wanted to apologize to him, but since I was still angry it wouldn’t have sounded sincere; I decided to wait until morning.

     God had gifted us with another beautiful day. Morning had come with breathless beauty once again. Our bedroom window was open and faced the rising sun and while Peppy and Miguel did their crowing, I took in a great, big breath of the fresh air that gently drifted in our window. As the rising sun touched the flowers, trees and grass it brought everything to startling life. The colors of the flowers; the beautiful reds, blues, violets and the eye-popping yellows and oranges just fairly shouted, “Look at us!” The yellow and green zucchini’s, the rich, red, succulent tomatoes and bright green skinned watermelons tempted me to bite into them and the water in the pond sparkled like cool, wet diamonds as it reflected the sun, while the soft sounds of the chickens, roosters and cows soothed me.

     The smells were amazing every day, but oh my, in the early mornings, just as the sun was rising and with the wind blowing, the smells were so wonderfully vibrant and they would flow gently over me and kiss me good morning.

     My happy sigh was so big it shook the whole bed and Noah’s smooth arm came around me and hugged me to him tightly. Turning, I buried my face in his chest and mumbled, “ I’m sorry.” A sudden chuckle brought my eyes up to his and I found them sparkling with laughter and love.

     “My love, you are amazing! I’ll never grow tired of living my life with you. You make each day so exciting,” he chuckled again and rubbed his hairy chin over my cheeks.

     My face reddened and his grin grew bigger, then he rolled over and swatted my hind end, “Come on it’s time to get up. It’s gonna be super busy today. I’ll make sure the hen’s garden run is put together right and then I’ll join you and our momma’s so’s we can pick all them tomatoes.” The day passed a mite too slowly for me; I really wanted to see my Noah’s face. He reminded me a bit of a young, handsome Grizzly Adams.

     The time finally came to pick tomatoes and you’d a thought it was a party. Lots of family members and friends; adults and children had shown up to help and we all worked hard and steady under the hot sun. Every once in a while I’d hear a giggle and I knew another tomato had disappeared down somebody’s gullet, but I cannot tell a lie I enjoyed a bite or two myself.

     An hour or so towards sunset I heard another sound I really enjoyed. I knew momma would soon be singing one of the many songs I’d grown up with whenever we worked in the fields. My momma’s sweet, husky voice called the kids over to her and they sat by the truck with cool watermelon juice and she began to sing, “Every day with Jesus is sweeter than the day before. Every day with Jesus, I love Him more and more. Jesus saves and keeps me and He’s the one I’m waiting for. Every day with Jesus is sweeter than the day before.”

     We finally finished, but left enough on the vines for the neighbors or any visitors that would be stopping by tomorrow to pick. Noah set up a nice little bonfire area, brought out the grill and we sat around and sang more songs and reminisced about our younger days. As usual my big brother Abel brought up the first time Noah had thrown me in the pond; not something I wanted to remember.

     “Hey Abe!” Noah called out, “don’t leave right away, cuz I’m gonna punch your lights out for messing with my pearl!” Everyone laughed, but Abe had gotten the hint and shut his mouth right quick.

     I loved sunrise, but sunset was pretty special too; here surrounded by family and friends, feeling pleasantly tired after a hard days work, my husband’s arms around me, the smells of the night and the occasional soft moo of the cows, the chirp of crickets and the giggling and laughter of kids I was content. I sighed big and my husband’s arms tightened around me and I felt his kiss on my head as I joined in the singing.

This is written for: Bluebell Books Twitter Club Thursday Short Story Slam Week 26:

http://bluebellbooks.blogspot.com/2012/08/bluebell-books-twitter-club-thursday.html

also shared with: Thursday Poets’ Rally Week 72 (September 5 -12, 2012) at:
http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/2012/09/thursday-poets-rally-week-72-september.html

Thanks for the opportunity!

The Fairies Did It!

     The ice cream disappeared, as if by magic. Everyone turned to look at me and fingers began to point.

     “There she is, the ice cream thief!!” my little brother shouted. “I just bought that gallon of Moose Tracks. It’s my favorite and I didn’t get any at all.”

     “Come on! There are eight of us in this house and I’m the one that gets accused?” my eyes filled with tears and a knot formed in my throat. “Fine believe what you want, but have you forgotten I hate that flavor? All I eat is French Vanilla! Stick your nose in everyone’s mouth and take a whiff. You should be able to tell who ate your doggoned ice cream,” I said sarcastically.

     Minutes later, with everyone glaring at me (again), we stood against the kitchen wall rolling our eyes as Petey actually took my suggestion seriously and smelled our breaths. Can you say gross!!

     He stood in front of me and demanded, “Open your mouth!” I refused for about 10 minutes, not because I was guilty, but because he made me so angry.
     “Aha!! She has sweet breath. She’s the culprit!!” he shouted.

     “You dork!! I’m diabetic, my breath’s always sweet!!” I shrieked. “Fine, fine," I huffed, "even though I didn’t do it, I’ll buy you another gallon and I hope you get fat!”

     The pleased smile on his face when I handed him the ice cream, almost made me whack him with the bag. Oh man!

     Standing outside my bedroom I took a deep breath and flung the door wide. The giggling and  buzzing of what sounded like bee’s wings stopped immediately.

     “It’s only me guys and thanks a lot! Stop stealing his ice cream. I keep getting in trouble for your pranks!”

     What can I say, I really like the little buggers; they’re so darned cute! It’s not like anyone would have believed me anyway. They’d think I was daft!

     I’d learned a very important lesson. Never bring fairies home or feed them ice cream. I bent over and picked up the empty Moose Tracks container and threw it in the closet with all the rest.

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Written for: Thursday Poets Rally Week 70 (August 9-15, 2012)

http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/2012/08/thursday-poets-rally-week-70-august-8.html

Thanks for the opportunity!

Winter's Delight

          I’ve never known what it was like to enjoy the snow or cold; when everyone talked about all the good times they had; hot chocolate with little puffy marshmallows, hot soup that warmed you from the inside out after an afternoon of fun and sledding down snow covered hills; making snowmen with carrots for noses, buttons for eyes and cranberries for lips; walking down the street on Christmas Eve, while everyone’s voices harmonized beautifully to traditional Christmas carols; kind of made me feel envious. Had I really missed all that much?

I love my parents, I really do, but they had never permitted me to take a step outside during the snow and cold. Frail and sickly as a child my parents had always coddled me and been overly protective; a sneeze had usually meant a nosebleed that had them rushing me to the hospital; spending time outside in the hot sun had me running temperatures so high I’d start convulsing.

The seasons had passed me by and all I’d known of them was what I could see either from the living room window or on the way to the doctor’s office.

The way momma dressed me always had everyone laughing at me; the neighbor kids and my siblings. My body was covered from head to foot with just enough of my eyes uncovered so I could see where I was going. I don’t think any of the neighborhood kids even knew what I looked like until I tried to sneak outside to sit on the porch when I was 10 years old.

The worst time of the year had always been winter. The first time I watched the Christmas Story with Peter Billingsly I doubled up laughing like a hyena. That was the exact same way momma had dressed me just to get me to the car while poor daddy struggled to fit me in the back seat, what with me not being able to put my arms down and all.

Why do people say they feel like they’re on the outside looking in? For me it was the opposite. I was on the inside looking out wondering what it would be like to run through the powdery snow or to never be sick again or even to catch a snowflake on my tongue and feel it melting as it ran down my throat.

My childhood memories of winter were of me pressing my face against the window as I watched the kids screaming with laughter, their noses runny from the cold and their cheeks cherry red as little puffs of air passed their lips while working hard on misshapen snowmen as their parents helped.

As an adult, even though I rarely got sick now, I continued to confine myself to the house, unless I had to go to work; even then I would wrap myself up tightly and make sure my face was covered before walking out the door.

Yesterday my sister Shelly caught me with my face pressed against the window watching the kids frolic in the snow. She’d whispered something in her husband Darryl’s ear and off they’d gone, on a mission from God, according to her.

This morning after breakfast she’d hurried me into my bedroom and told me to dress warmly and then presented me with an early Christmas gift; a purple, down winter coat, with matching gloves, scarf, cap and boots. Panicking a bit, I reminded her that I’d never gone out into the snow unless I was completely protected.

“Silly sister, snow is for enjoying and for letting your inner kid out and I think it’s way past time for you,” she’d smiled.

After much hemming and hawing from me, we finally walked out onto the back porch together while my nieces and nephews cheered.

My brother Patrick cleared his throat and presented me with another gift, an adult sized sled. That was a bit too much for my first time out and I almost lost my nerve. It took a bit of coaxing from Pat and Shelly, but I finally put myself in their hands and followed them to the top of the hill in the back yard. Looking down the hill (it was a long way down after all) I looked from one to the other and huffed, “If I die you’re both gonna get it,” and crawled in between both of them. I held on for dear life and screamed as Darryl pushed us off. I don’t remember when the scream turned to laughter, but it did.

All I saw on our way down was a blanket of white powder with snowmen dotting the landscape and I could hear the whistling of the wind as it rushed passed my ears. We finally reached the bottom, but someone’s snowman had lost its life in our journey down that hill.

We landed with a thump, our faces covered in snow and for the first time I knew what the kids had been feeling all those years ago. Tumbling off the sled unto my back, my eyes sparkling, my nose runny and my cheeks as red as cherries, I shouted, “Let’s go again!!” and ran back up the hill as fast as my legs could carry me.

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This was written for Short Story Slam Week 24: Life Behind the Corners of Your Smiles.

http://bluebellbooks.blogspot.com/2012/07/short-story-slam-week-24-life-behind.html

Please visit the site and read some really amazing stories and poems from really gifted writers and maybe next time you can submit one of your pieces. Blessings!

My Insurance Sucks!!! Sorry!

h

     Laughing, as I read the New York Times headline Senate Backs Bipartisan Bill to Speed Drugs and Avert Shortages by Robert Pear published: May 24, 2012, I coughed and tried to get something more out of my inhaler.

     “Oh for goodness sakes,” I cried out, “it’s wonderful to get more meds out and I’m glad they’re being approved faster but come on!” I understood how important it was to have these drugs available, but what good did it do if they were available and you still couldn’t afford them?

     What they considered affordable really wasn’t; worse my doctor kept telling me there weren't generics available for most of my meds; if and when a generic was available I still couldn’t afford it.

     Dumbfounded, I still couldn't believe how much my medications were! Month before last I’d paid out over $2000 for thirteen medications and I’d finally put my foot down. The allergy meds I used, while under my insurance had been expensive, but somewhat affordable. Now that same medication had been made an over the counter med and believe it or not, was now so expensive I couldn’t afford it. I was due to get it again this month and I had to decide whether to buy my meds or pay bills and buy groceries.

     My insurance was supposed to help, but after the recent changes brought about by the latest bill that had been passed, I was paying more for everything, including emergency room and doctor visits. The doctor’s office had called me several times to remind me of appointments I needed to make. They couldn’t understand why I said I couldn’t afford it. Once again, I went through the long explanation; eight hundred dollars a month could only go so far and using $500 of it on doctor appointments didn’t leave much room for groceries, utilities, etc. Their response? Can you borrow the money? What the heck!!?!?!?? If I don’t have the money to buy medication and etcetera, what the heck makes them think I can afford to borrow and pay back?

     I thought about the $200 I paid for my medical insurance and for a moment I wanted to cancel it. What good did it do me to even have insurance?

     Oh well, life is life and I knew everyone else was going through the same thing. I stuck my tongue out at the NYT article on my laptop and with a sharp motion closed it out.

     Even though I’d been griping I hadn’t forgotten that God would provide as usual. He always did. I took as deep a breath as I could; gasped and coughed a bit and finally decided what to do. This month I'd buy groceries and maybe next month I'd have saved enough to buy one month's worth of medications. 

     Walking out of the kitchen I stopped and leaned against the fridge trying really hard to catch my breath. After resting for a bit I headed out the door. Hopefully someone had an extra inhaler I could have.

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Written for JP At Olive Garden Poetry Picnic Week 36 at: http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/2012/05/poetry-picnic-week-36-online-media.html

Thanks again for the opportunity! Blessings.

An Extraordinary Strength

 

   My father was the pastor of our church and mom was his right hand and steadfast supporter; she was also the head Sunday school teacher, head of the Women’s Auxiliary and Girls in Action, the Sunday school superintendent, teacher to the teachers, dad’s sounding board, and the scapegoat for many of the women who either didn’t like the way things were being run, or just wanted someone to gripe at. 

     The  church had no pianist at the time so mom took it upon herself to learn to play that instrument and began taking lessons by mail; she called them correspondence lessons. I still have no idea how that worked!! But still she plodded on week after week and six months later she could play any song in the hymnbook. Her busy week didn't even begin until she’d made time to do visitation with dad. It was remarkable that she could do all that and still be a mom to two boys and two girls and later an additional two; my little brother and myself.

     Dad was forever reading his Bible and studying and he taught us how important it was to love God and to be gentle, kind and loving. He had a true servant’s heart no matter what the situation might be. Dad had such a faith and he always said that no matter how often he might question God, he knew God wouldn't get angry with him and every question would come back with the right answer.

     While mom agreed with him 100%, her faith was a bit different, but just as strong. She trusted God and never questioned anything that happened in her life, because as she said, "God is at the helm and He doesn't make mistakes. He's never let me down before and He never will."

     Mom had a special gift for prayer and boy did she pray. There was never a day, or night that you didn’t find her praying for everyone, by name. I’m not just talking about us, her children, but everyone at church, her friends, anyone she met at the grocery store or on the street. She had a special strength that I know now was possible only because of God and she constantly reminded us that her strength was not her own.

     Even now I’m amazed at the strong woman of God she was; laughing and joking when she should have been crying and always willing to hold the hands and pray for and with those that spent their time belittling her.

     My siblings and I still joke today and say that whenever mom was needed she could be found on her knees praying; she had permanent indentations on her knees.

     I thank God for a mother whose prayer and faith helped us get through our teenage years; we couldn’t have done it without her. Although out of the six of us only three continue to serve in the church, nonetheless we all know that it was her heartfelt prayers to God and her tears for us that helped us get where we are today.

     Mom loved and trusted God and that made it possible for her to be so many things to so many people. I’m so proud to have been gifted her as a mother. She may not have been perfect, but she showed me how faith, love and prayer can give you an extraordinary strength.

     Mom you were a queen among women. We miss you so much, but one day we will see each other again. I love you.

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Written for JP AT Olive Garden: Poetry: http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/2012/05/poetry-picnic-week-35-month-of-may.html

As always, thank you for the opportunity and for bringing back such wonderful memories. Blessings!

The Brightest Star

     She hasn’t been here in so long, but still her laughter, warmth and love resound throughout the house and all the scents that made it Mom’s house; the garlic, onion, cilantro and tortillas are the perfume that made this house a home.

     In the living and dining room, I quickly swipe the dust off of the coffee and end tables and touching the piano keys, it’s almost as if I can still hear her playing it. Oh I miss those times when we’d all grab our instruments; the tambourine, guitar, congas, harmonica, scratcher, shaker and if necessary spoons and gathering around the piano we’d sing. We didn’t need any excuses to sing together, we just sang because we liked it and it made us feel good.

     Dad’s deep, beautiful, rich baritone and mom’s husky alto would join with our voices as we’d harmonize, singing the hymns we all loved so much; Amazing Grace, Old Rugged Cross, Are You Washed in the Blood, Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus and He Can Turn the Tides.

     He Can Turn the Tides was always my favorite and at night I’d sit at my open window and sing it. I envisioned God’s hands as He lovingly shaped each planet, adding all the characteristics and terrain that would make it special and unique and could see His hands as He decided just exactly where the stars, suns, moons and galaxies should be hung. Would He use a giant crayon to color in the moons? Would He use oil or water paints to give the stars those amazing colors?

     For the life of me, I couldn't have told you which star was which, but what I did know was that God sure did have quite an artistic touch to Him and boy, was He ever creative. I’d lay down on my bed facing the night sky and gently slipping into dreams, I’d skate across the sky with stars under my feet while running my fingers through the galaxies and all the time feeling the warmth of God’s many suns on my face.

     I’ll be 51 years old this year, and still dreaming about playing out in space with all the cosmos at my fingertips. Of all God’s awesome creations I’m still in awe of His great work in creating space and all it’s worlds, but I think I’m most in awe of His creation of the brightest star in my sky, my mother. I miss you mom.

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He Can Turn the Tides

Verse 1

He can turn the tides
And calm the angry sea.
He alone decides
Who writes a symphony.
He lights ev'ry star
That makes our darkness bright.
He keeps watch all through
Each long and lonely night.
He still finds the time
To hear a child's first prayer.
Saint or sinner call
And always find Him there.

Refrain:
Though it makes him sad
To see the way we live,
He'll always say, "I forgive."

Verse 2

He can grant a wish
Or make a dream come true.
He can paint the clouds
And turn the gray to blue.
He alone knows where
To find the rainbow's end.
He alone can see
What lies beyond the bend.
He can touch a tree
And turn the leaves to gold.
He knows every lie
That you and I have told.

Refrain:

Written by Richard Mullen/Jack Richards

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ****☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

Written for JP At Olive Garden: Poetry at: http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/2012/05/poetry-picnic-week-34-plants-creatures.html. 

Thanks once again for the opportunity. Blessings!

In Her Gilded Cage

Sitting on the ledge of the carved window she looked outside; it was so beautiful. The trees were so green and lush and the brightly clothed flowers invited all to go out and play. The wind teased the tall grasses and she longed to feel it against her skin and in her hair. She wondered what it was like to walk freely with nothing covering her face and her bare feet touching the ground.

Shivering she remembered that today she would be introduced to the man who would be her husband. She'd never seen him face to face and wondered what he would be like. Would her appearance give him pleasure? What would their lives be like? Would he give her children? Would they know happiness?

The last seventeen years of her life she'd been taught how to cook, sew and to know her place; walking out in public she was to walk with her face down looking at her father's or brother's feet and always remain three steps behind. Yes, she knew her place, but just once she wanted to know what it felt like to walk side by side with a man; to feel protected and valued, just for who she was and not for what she could do or for the heir she would provide.

Looking around the fine castle that had been her home and her prison she did not relish exchanging it for another gilded cage. Though only the finest of garments would touch her skin and the most excellent of foods her lips and while she would have everything, she would not have freedom. 

A fleeting look around the room brought no emotion, no feelings of home; of anything. It was after all just a cage.

         She turned and walked away, acceptance in her golden eyes; it was time to meet her new owner.

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Written for Poetry Picnic Week 33 at JP At Olive Garden at: http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/2012/04/poetry-picnic-week-33-fortresses.html

Once again, thanks for the opportunity!