The Reverie posted an interesting challenge in honor of Jane Austen. We are given 11 words (in true Austen style) and asked to write a poem with at least 7 of them. It got in 10. Check out the challenge and give it a try.
To acknowledge a want,
to trust in a wish,
evokes a certain wonder.
What good fortune it would be,
to wear our pride without prejudice,
to yearn, not for possessions
but for the good in man.
A single hope,
a solemn wish
to bring peace
to the world.
~~
Everything in our lives has a time and a place. Whether we understand the correlation or not, the introduction of certain things into our realities is done with a purpose. The novel ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ is one of those things that had a time and place in my life – and that time and place was now.
Had I read this book when it was first published, the messages would have never hit their target. But now, almost twenty years after its publication date, this book has burrowed its way under my skin and caused numerous moments of reflection and awareness.
I began reading this book late on a Saturday night, although I wish I could say I dove into it on a Tuesday. My appetite for the story made me pick it up again on Sunday afternoon and finish it early Sunday night. I recognized many moments of my life through the book and I paused many times to wipe tears from my eyes so I could continue reading.
(Mitch Albom and Morrie Schwartz)
I watched both of my parents wither from a disease, although not ALS, that stole their ability to function as healthy adults. I felt a strong connection to Mitch as he tried to make life as normal for Morrie as he could. But what I was most affected by from this novel is Morrie teaching Mitch how to live while he, in turn, was dying.
Life is not about our limitations, it is about our strengths. Life is not about our possessions but about our character. It is about being a part of a community and giving to those who are less fortunate. Life is about having no regrets when we pass because the energy that we shared with others lives on through them.
Mitch and Morrie reiterated the philosophy behind a mantra I have, for many years, uttered under my breath. “Life is not about what you have. Life is about what you give.” And since this novel has securely fastened itself into my memory, I will strive to give more so I can live far beyond this lifetime.
Too many times I have heard this word and it makes me cringe every time. There are others that offend my ears as well but this one seems to be my “nails on the chalkboard” word.
What word makes you crazy when it’s mispronounced?
He was a focused man and remained fixated by his purpose. The accoutrements he carried would make him believable. His white collar made her trust him immediately. She didn’t see the open van door until it was too late.
My early Christmas memories consist of an overflowing Christmas tree with presents that never seemed to end. As as child, I thought that was normal. I lived with the belief that every voice in the world was hoarse from saying thank you after each gift had been torn open. I assumed every house was just like mine and every child was lost in a sea of wrapping paper, ribbons and tags after the last gift had been opened.
But that mound of brightly decorated paper blinded me from the reality I would come to know as I got older. My Christmas was not the normal image of the holiday celebration. The large roasted turkey and all the accompanying dishes that adorned our table did not magically appear in every other house on Christmas day. When I learned that fact, my happiness was changed.
I had been oblivious to reality until I was in my last years of public school. I honestly don’t even remember if there were food and toy drives when I was that age. I just recall the anticipation of Christmas morning, not even realizing that there were kids I went to school with that may not see anything under their tree on December 25th.
Over the last three years, the Christmas tree that has become most important to me is the one in our hotel lobby. It has become a temporary home for gifts that we have collected or purchased with the generous donations of our many supporters. This tree overflows, much like the one I remember from my youth, but it will bring smiles to many more kids than just the two children who stumbled upon our family Christmas tree on that much-anticipated morning every year.
This tree holds the hope that so many more children will be able to open a gift on Christmas morning. This tree embodies the true essence of Christmas because the gifts that lay under its branches come from people who will not get the gift of seeing a child’s smile as they open their presents on Christmas day. This tree truly represents the spirit of giving.
I can only hope that my future Christmas celebrations will embody the generosity I have seen over the last three years. And my Christmas wish is that everyone takes a moment to remember those less fortunate, especially during the holidays. The season is about giving to everyone…..not just the ones on your list.
I was asked by our local Public Library to donate some goodies for their holiday get-together today. The local singing group ‘The Minettones’ will be performing and many locals will be in attendance. I gladly agreed as it combined two of my favorite things – cake decorating and books.
If you read my post yesterday you would know I have been filling out applications to volunteer at some local establishments. Since the lodge is officially closed for the winter, I will have more spare time and I feel strongly about giving my time to those who could use the help.
Between the Toy Drive at the lodge and the time spent creating these goodies for the Library, I feel good about the decision to give back since I feel I have so much already. I may not be rich in terms of my bank balance but life has treated me well in many other ways and now it is time to ‘share the wealth’.
Today will be a bittersweet day for me. I have $1,000.00 Canadian dollars to go on a shopping spree for the rest of the toys that will be given to the children in our area who may not otherwise have had a present to open on Christmas morning. This is the third year I have been at the helm of our toy drive and it has grown significantly each year.
I am sad to say I have not volunteered as much as I should have over the years. Back in the stone ages when I was in high school, we were not required to have volunteer hours as part of the curriculum. We studied, we tried not to fall asleep in class and, if all went well, we graduated and moved on to college or university.
But this toy drive has sparked something in me. It has kindled a need to use my able body and mind to spend some of my free hours helping others. I have just filled out my application and submitted it to a local cause to see if I will be approved to become a part of their volunteer team.
With luck, I hope to have a positive response. And when they ask who is able to come and help, I will raise my hand and be one of the people at the front of the line.
I couldn’t bring myself to watch it the first Christmas after Mom passed. My loss was paralyzing and my voice was a whisper. The hills are alive once again and I will honor her memory this Christmas Eve singing those familiar tunes.
![IMG_1431[1]](https://polysyllabicprofundities.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/img_14311.jpg)
Angels leave their fingerprints,
on morning skies while I snooze.
Reminders that, though bodies have gone,
connections to souls we never lose.
And while I sit and ponder those,
who were taken in their prime,
my heart is filled with silent sadness
and a yearning to turn back time.
But their hands gently hold my heart
mending the chronic ache,
and they leave their fingerprints upon the sky
for me to gaze upon when I wake.
Wooden walls around a big kitchen,
a man in jeans and bare feet,
dinner is cooking and the wine is poured.
This is where I want to exist.
The room is my refuge,
the food is my sustenance,
but he is my home.
His fingers slowly graze my arm
and he reaches for my hand.
We sip our wine,
the conversation dwells on nothing
but never seems to stop.
The world outside of this moment
may continue to exist,
but my world is here,
in this moment,
with a man in jeans
and bare feet.
polysyllabic profundities 