WORDS...

 

The words we choose are powerful…

think of the different worlds we create 

when the words that flow from our lips 

are words of love and kindness…

as opposed to words of hate.

Words of love and kindness have the power to build happiness, 

to make us smile…

to bring another joy…

words of hate but one power…

the power to destroy.

We have a plethora of words of love and kindness at our disposal…

whatever kind of love we want to create…

ah…but therein lies the rub…

as the same holds true for hate.

When we use words of love and kindness…

when we see that smile on another face swell…

we can’t help but feel in our hearts

a little love and happiness as well.

When we use words of hate…

when hurtful obscenities we yell…

as we destroy another person…

we destroy ourselves as well.

It all comes down to the kind of echoes we want to leave behind…

the type of world we are trying to create…

Do we want to be cherished for our words of love and kindness…

or remembered for our words of hate?

REMEMBERING WHO I AM

 

He began to write before his diagnosis…sometimes he wrote…sometimes he drew.

He didn’t need a doctor to tell him…something he already knew.

He would close his eyes for a moment and search back in his mind…then write a story or draw a picture of any memory he might find.

His children sat him down one day and said they had something they wanted to discuss… “These memories you’re writing down,” they asked, “all these books…are you writing them for us?”

“Because we don’t need all these books to remember the wonderful life we’ve had…we don’t need these books to remember you…as a kind and gentle dad.”

“No children.” Their father smiled, “the reason I am writing…the reason my bookshelves are so crammed…is to help me remember, when I begin to forget, the person who I am.”

This disease will be taking away who I am…that’s what dementia does…so I’m hoping I can use these books…to help me remember who I was.”

I know who I was and I know who I am right now…that’s easy for me to see…but it’s scary because when my memory is gone…I’m not sure who I will be.”

“That’s why I’ve written down some memories…and other memories I drew…so in the midst of the darkness that is coming…some light will come shining through.”

“It’s funny I started writing these as a present to myself for when my mind’s adrift…but being able to write down a lifetime of memories has turned out to be a gift.”

And Dad was right there came a time when his whole life, to him, became a blur…when even during our visits…he didn’t remember who we were.

So we’d take out his books of memories…his writings and the pictures that he drew…with the hope that somewhere in his darkness…some light would come shining through.

And as we sat and read him his memories…not very often but once in a while

a light would find its way to Dad…and for a moment…he would smile.

FATE AND FRIENDSHIP

 

There is no doubt Fate plays a part in our lives…from its beginning…to its end.

I’m reminded of this when I think back to a story of three friends.

Fate brought their families to the same neighborhood…where time together they would spend…each family had a daughter and the three would soon become good friends.

It was a simpler more innocent time and these three young girls found a way…to meet up when they could…and play outside all day.

They did the things that young girls do…they talked…they imagined…they performed…and somewhere in their time together…an eternal bond was formed.

They grew up and went their separate ways…it is often how the hand of Fate extends…but through it all, no matter what, they still remained…good friends.

Fate filled their lives with marriages, divorces, births, deaths, joys…sorrows…their friendship helped them rejoice in each other’s happiness…and absorb each other’s woes.

Fate allowed them to meet less frequently…but it didn’t matter where…or when…for the moment they got together…they were three young girls again.

Fate brings them back together occasionally now…where they follow that age old paradigm…they talk about life, and family, and children…and they talk about old times.

They love to reminisce about the time they all first talked…first imagined…first performed…a time that seems like yesterday…when their friendships were being formed.

I wonder how often they look back on their lives and think how they’ve been blessed…how Fate brought them together…and how their friendship did the rest.

And I wonder as they sit together sharing memories of the lives they’ve been compiling…if Fate, proud of the hand she played in this…

isn’t looking down…

and smiling.

WHEN I LEARNED TO RIDE

 I was returning a bike to it’s home this morning…left out by a child who, no doubt, was remiss and as I pushed it along the sidewalk I began to reminisce.

Back to when I was a child…remembering what it was like…the day I learned to balance…the day I learned to ride a bike.

I remember the innocence…the freedom…riding without a care…I remember the smile on my face …I remember the wind blowing in my hair.

I’d ride for hours with my friends…friends with whom I’d grown…for once you hopped on your bike in our neighborhood…you never rode alone.

Our bikes took us on adventures that strengthened our hearts and soothed our souls.  We’d only stop to climb a tree…skip some stones…or dive into the swimming hole…

We loved to ride together through the ditches during a rain..

and if we fell and skinned our knees…we just ignored the pain. 

We learned to ride with no hands…down our street and all around…

We’d attach baseball cards to our spokes just to listen to the sound.

For when we heard those baseball cards…on whatever bicycle we were striding…no longer were they bikes…but motorcycles we were riding.

On our bikes is where we learned to be independent…it’s where we learned to pretend…on our bikes is where we learned what it means to be a friend.

At the doorstep of the house I set the bike down…gently on its side…and I thought how different the world is now than it was when I first learned to ride.

I’m not sure it was true…but when I visit those memories again and again and again…wasn’t the world a little kinder, a little gentler, a little more innocent back then?

Perhaps that’s why as I grow older I find it difficult to comprehend…how, though many people still remember how to ride a bike.…they’ve forgotten how to be friends..

How somewhere in the midst of living…they’ve forgotten how to be kind…

How without the  even realizing it…they’ve left their innocence behind…

Which makes me wish more people would remember exactly what it was like…

The day we found our balance…the day we learned to ride a bike.

A DAY TO REMEMBER

 

I believe one of the reasons the Creator gave us memories is so…once the movie is our mind is played…we can remember what brought us joy in life…as well as the mistakes we’ve made.

If we use our memory as intended…we will do whatever it takes…to look back on the life we’ve led…and learn from our mistakes.

Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day…a day some people would like to hide…a day to remember the Nazi Party and their attempt at Genocide.

A day to remember the millions of victims of the Holocaust’s inhumanity…a day not only to remember the atrocities…but how those atrocities came to be.

The Nazis used propaganda…they spread misinformation…they lied…they used the latest technology to increase fear and prejudice and hate…and millions of people died.

And the world stood by and wondered as the Nazis tried to create…a land of white supremacy…based on vitriol and hate.

Today’s the day to remember…and to try and understand…a time in history when love was forgotten…and hate tried to rule the land.

A day to remember one country’s attempt at Genocide and to do whatever it takes…not to let that ever happen again…and to learn from their mistakes.

But as evidenced by the events of January 6…an insurrection some are already trying to forget…as we remember the Holocaust today…we haven’t learned its lesson yet.

If we do not learn from our mistakes…we will never be the people the Creator intended us to be…as I’m sure Native Americans, people of color, Muslims, the LGBTQ+ community and many more of us...will readily agree.

THE LANGUAGE OF THE EARTH

 

What if our planet…the mountains, the oceans, the rivers, the trees the animals…the land…has developed its own language…a language we have yet to understand.

What if they communicate with one another…to make right anything that goes wrong?

What if this is the reason they’ve survived on Earth so long.

What if our survival depends on how much we understand…the language of the mountains and the rivers and the land

For what a sad day it will be when the very last human has died…

not because we couldn’t communicate with our planet…

but because we never really tried..

TUCKED IN

 

Before he was born…before his life in this world would begin…inside his mommy’s tummy…he felt safe…secure…tucked in.

When he was just a baby…before his memory in this world would begin…his mom was there to say good night…and safely tuck him in.

When he was just a lad…growing…still small and pale and thin…he remembers all those nights when his mom would tuck him in.

Whether it was a day when he would lose…or a day when he would win…he remembers his mom was there at night to safely tuck him in.

When he grew a little older…now more mature…finally growing into his skin…he told his mom he was too old for her to tuck him in.

With a smile and a nod his mom acquiesced…much to her chagrin…for she knew, in his heart, there were more important things than to have his mother tuck him in.

As much as she loved tucking him in…as much as she hoped those moments would last…as what happens in every family…she knew those days had passed.

But she was there to lend a hand, when he needed a smile, a pat..a grin…in her mind she found other ways to safely tuck him in…

Her impact on his life was everlasting…even though she’s gone, at night in bed he grins…as he closes his eyes and remembers…all those nights she tucked him in.