Writing prompt instructions:
This week we’re going to switch gears and write a little poetry. Writing poetry helps us work on cadence and rhythm which can make for better fiction. So by flexing our poetry muscles, we can in turn create more fluid fictional pieces. Please write a narrative poem that focuses on the workings of a family, whether it be your own or one that you’ve created from scratch. Good luck!
*This poem is written for Jason, my betrothed. I am not a poet, nor consider myself one. It is inspired by the first time I saw him with his two young children. I was already in love with him, but his calming demeanor, and patient touch, really sealed the deal upon witnessing. I love you and I am honored to be part of your life and your future bride.
How long would it take to get there? Can we reach it with our spaceships? Can we see it in our telescopes?
Is it just beyond our nature walk? Half past, the serene beauty flowing under picturesque landscape. A path we cross over from one place to another.
Is it at the end of the peaceful rush of water? Trickling over and under to a destination we have yet to discover. Washing us clean, and renewing our life in the sliding cascade.
Is it not to the sky, but on the surface? Where the wonders of plump baby feet stand. The bliss of bare earth between our toes to grip, to run, to feel.
Is it a touch away? The gentle kiss from one to another, no matter the differences, no matter the reciprocation, just a gesture of kindness, a gesture of love. The purest love there is – acceptance and innocence – just as you are.
Is it as far as our adventures take us? The freedom of discovery. The direction of the unknown; awaiting with wondering eyes, and fervid exhalations.
Maybe, it’s just around the corner. Can you see it?
Maybe, it’s just up the trail. Can you follow it?
Maybe, if we run we can catch a glimpse. Can you seek it?
Or maybe, just maybe, it’s not as far as we think.
“How far to heaven? Just open your eyes and look. You are in heaven” -Shankar
I (almost) have three daughters. Sydney, Molly, and Bridget at the Japanese gardens.
I have three dogs. Salem first, Anna middle, Brownie last.
I have changed my last name three times. Married name #1. Married name #2. Back to maiden name #3. I actually don’t plan on changing it again. That means it stays at three.
My friend Luisa Doraz at Believe in yourself, represents my blog on her blog roll with a picture of three smiling daisies (I did not pick it out). I adore them.
I am getting married on three tens….at three ten.
I can cook three things well; chicken with noodles in the steamer, mac and cheese casserole, and spaghetti.
There are three chores, I actually like doing; laundry, dishes, and cleaning.
Texas has more triple digits temps in the summer than Arizona (okay, maybe not, but it feels that way some years).
And finally, the month of July, which is not a three, but does remind me of three very special little boys who live in heaven.
My two nephews, and my friend, and photographer extraordinaire, Kellene, from Bella Lucia photography’s son Leo. They lived long enough to capture our hearts, and they died way to soon – leaving a wake of hearts in their ascension.
Kellene’s story of Leo is a moving one. It touched me to the core the first time I read her blog about him. Kellene is not just gifted in intimate portraits of life, but also in capturing intimate moments of life. Precious moments that live forever. I have those with my nephews and she has those with her son. I feel that is part of what connects us.
She is amazing, not only does she praise God for her day with him, but she continues to shine light and love to all who meet her. She illuminates life through her lens and her memories.
I wish I could describe what I feel for her, and what I felt for her immediately upon “blog meeting” her. I guess I just knew how special she was. And talented. And giving. And loving.
This is someone who deserves to be lifted up and praised, not just for her work, but for the sheer will and effort, she put forth to survive the death of her baby.
When she posted on her blog a remembrance memorial request in Leo’s honor, to celebrate his life. His one day. The day that changed her life forever. I was honored to accept, because it’s such a small thing for me to do, but a HUGE thing to her, and her family.
This month marks the one-year anniversary since our son Leo passed away after being born at 30 weeks due to a placental rupture. The past year has been a rough journey of both sorrow and faith. As we approach this season of remembering, many of you have asked what we were planning to do to remember Leo. After thinking long and hard, and asking other’s their ideas, I have come up with something everyone can participate in to celebrate his life!!
So, if you’d like to participate, here are the details…. I would like to start a Name Memorial for Leo. Find a creative way to write his name and capture it. You can write it in sand, in a letter, on an object, etc. You can incorporate anything you’d like… flowers, balloons, stuffed animals… be creative and have fun with it! The images will be featured on my blogs in a slideshow for everyone to enjoy.
Email your images to: kellene.maynard[at]gmail[dot]com Please be sure to include you name and where you are from with your submission!!!
Thank you ALL for participating in remembering our little man with us. Your love and support has brought us through the darkest time in our lives. We love you!!
If you read her story – Leo’s story. You will want to honor his beautiful life too.
Click here for her journal entry describing her day with him, Remembering Leo.
Your walk of faith. Your strength. Your deep well of love is so precious to me. I can’t think of anything more endearing and heartfelt than sharing the celebration of his life with you.
Love and joy to you always…
Readers, commenters, friends, and family would you join me? Would you join Kellene? Will you take a picture of his name and email it to her for his memorial? It would mean so much to us all, if you could share this time of poignant joy on his first birthday. I look forward to seeing your submissions on her upcoming slideshow.
I also look forward to meeting Kellene in person on my three tens – 10-10-10. She is my wedding photographer, coming all the way from Washington state. Funny thing……the town she lives in? The only town in Washington I have EVER visited. I visited a good friend, and former co-worker, who had a son the same age as Sydney, we were pregnant at the same time. She had moved before the baby was born and I flew out the first chance I got to meet him. Small world, huh?
And by the way……… today?
Marks three months until the wedding (at posting). Three!
In light of the recent women’s retreat, I have had some issues on my mind. We spent a better part of the weekend learning about what kind of woman NOT to be. The immoral woman. The indiscreet woman. The irritating woman.
As the descriptions unfolded I heard the gasps around me. I heard the shocking cries about these terrible women. I could feel the JUDGMENT in the very large room, and the underlying hint of anger at their actions and corruptions.
Friends, it did not make me feel righteous. Truth is, I have been all three of those women in my lifetime. I’ve been in some of those places they described. I’m not proud of it. Not at all. But know this – because of that – I don’t see people the same way as others, at least most of the time anyway. I guess it makes me different (or maybe I’m not?). I know to me it hurts to shame women with opinions I have no right to behold. Maybe there is another story behind their actions, behind their clothes, behind their situation. Have you ever considered this?
My heart tells me to see these women differently. To Keep believing, keep hoping, and keep loving. As the famous Avatar movie would say, “I see you”. And this is how I choose to see women described as immoral, indiscreet, and irritating.
When I see a young woman dressed in a short skirt, a tight, low-cut t-shirt labeled “Too Hot to Care”. I don’t see a child I want to reprimand and explain proper attire to. I see a little girl who is crying out for direction. She has followed the wrong role models and has had no one protecting her morality. She wants attention. She is LONELY.
When I see a woman tightly wound with a chip on her shoulder. She snaps at the waitress. Her food is too cold, too hot, and all kinds of wrong. She glares at the man next to her while he shudders inwardly and tiptoes around her drama stage. I don’t see intolerance, and contention. I see a woman who is SCARED. She is scared to love. She is scared to be loved and pushes everyone away to protect herself.
When I see a woman flirting with a married man. She charms him. She knows exactly what to do and say. A wink, a smile, a lick of the lips. I don’t see a predator. I see an empty soul who has never known what it’s like to be truly loved. The darkness inside envelopes her. She is LOST.
When I see a woman who drinks excessively, smokes, and hangs around the bar pretending she is not crushing on the bartender. Nightly, she abuses her body. She is filling her life with unfulfillable things. She doesn’t know who she is. She doesn’t know how to find herself. I want to take her hand and let her know, there is so much more to life. She seeks FULFILLMENT.
When I see a woman having sex with a different man every night. She can’t commit, nor does she want to. It’s just sex. It doesn’t mean anything. She is fine on her own. It’s better this way. I don’t see a heartless user. I see a woman who has never loved deeply. The love that lifts, turns, and softens. My heart breaks for what she is missing. I want to knock down the walls so she can FEEL.
When I see a woman with an abusive mate. She cowers, she begs, she pleads. She is a trooper at keeping the peace and doing what is expected. I don’t see her weak will. I see a woman who doesn’t know her worth. She doesn’t think she deserves anything better than what she has. She needs to know how precious she truly is. She has VALUE.
When I see a woman with perfect porcelain skin, eyes without wrinkles, and a firm, fit body. She wears designer clothes. She drives a Cadillac. She has everything she needs, and other women envy her, or worship her. Inside, her heart beats like mine, her blood flows through her veins. Her mind thinks and feels just like I do. She is NOT all put together. She is NOT perfect. She is tired. She has no true friends. She bears the upkeep on her back and it weighs two tons. She wishes to relax but her needs and subsistence drive her tirelessly. If only her life could stop. If only she could just let go, and be. She wants to DIE because that would be easier than her life. I want her to know there is vitality that is not attainable through any means, but is joy filled without any appointments. She needs serenity and ACCEPTANCE.
When I see a woman dirty and shuffling. She wears plastic bags on her feet. She carries all her worldly possessions in her handbag with one unbroken strap. She doesn’t have a place she calls home. She lives where her legs will take her and where a light burns bright for her. I don’t see a helpless bum. I see a woman with great grit and determination. She lives proudly in the worst of situations. She is a SURVIVOR.
When I see a young woman bucking the system. She is trouble – fighting, lying, hating. She never does the right thing. Always does the opposite of what is expected. She is conniving and manipulative. I consider the possibility of her turmoil is from abuse. A verbally abusive mother. A controlling Father. Maybe, an unsuspecting neighbor sexually abused her as a child and NO ONE KNOWS. She didn’t tell. She is ANGRY and violated. She wants to strike out at the world. I ACHE for her. Not only is she incredibly tormented but she bears the pain on her own. How twisted and buried it must be. That child is crying inside and needs to be comforted. She needs to know, it wasn’t her fault. She is BLAMELESS.
When I see a woman jealous and hateful. She gossips and gets great pleasure in demeaning her fellow sister. She despises the happiness of others and will think nothing of a cutting remark. I don’t see a bitch. I see a woman terribly unhappy. She is void of empathy. She is withering from lack of light. She is in DARKNESS.
When I see a woman standing on a street corner. She is Looking out from hard eyes, and tough skin. She sways when she walks but she can fight when she needs to, or run. She has been beaten bloody. She has been stoned out of her mind. She has been violated, and torn until she is scarred and broken. Her life is the streets. Waiting for that twenty she can shoot up her veins. I don’t see a hooker junkie. I see a child whose mother abandoned her at age two. I see a lost, frightened little girl, who cried out for her Daddy and received beatings instead. She got lost in the system. No one cared for her. No one raised her. No one loved her. Not then. Not now. Not ever. I see a life that could miraculously change. A change so dramatic when she stood up to tell her story every ear would hear and be astounded. I see someone who God could use. She is SOMEBODY.
When I see a woman all dressed in black. She has black nail polish and hair. She wears chains and nose rings. She has a neck tattoo just above her lace trimmed collar. She is quiet and broody. People tend to give her a wide berth and confused glances. I don’t see a mental case. I see an artistic creation locked inside, lacking the freedom to express her needs and desires. She is passionate, complex, and terribly misunderstood. I want to unlock her chains. I want her to know she can live as uniquely as God made her. She is FREE.
When I see a woman struck down by illness. She has battled fiercely and lost. She is worn out. She has seen every doctor, tried every prescription. She has been betrayed by her body, by her mind. She wishes for well-being but only ends up sicker and sadder. With each failed treatment, depression sets in. Pain ensues. It’s a downward spiral of despair. Her life stops as she is only able to do so much in her weakened state. She loses her family, her job, her will. I don’t see a hypochondriac. I see a woman desperate for faith. I see a woman who needs to know she can be supernaturally healed, if only she will believe it. She is WHOLE.
When I see a woman using foul language. She swears with the best of them, dropping F-bombs, like hydros, hitting targets left and right. I don’t see desecration. I see a woman who watched their week old infant son take his last breath in her arms. I see a woman who was good and proper her whole life, until she had to dig deep to find the strength to survive burying her baby. Her anguish expelled on her lips in short fiery bursts. I would curse too. She MISSES her son. She will always miss him. She HURTS.
You don’t know what ANYONE is going through, or how they got to that point, or where they came from. You don’t know, nor may you ever know. One thing is for sure, there is SOME story. Maybe it’s not any of the above. Maybe it’s not even close. But what if you considered the possibility, and instead of judging, held them deeply with compassion.
Fill yourself up with all the love in your soul and beam it towards these women. SEE THEM. It’s easy to reject what we don’t understand. It’s so hard to embrace when we do.
I humbly ask you, LOVE them. Just love them anyway. That is true unfading beauty.