Sisters Forever

~ Sisters Forever ~
My sister took me by the hand, and said,
Come walk with me,
We'll travel down this winding path
that only we can see....
None knows where it will lead,
we're in God's loving care,
He's blessing us as sisters
eternal love to share.

We pause to rest a while upon a cosy bench,
With much to catch up on
that words can never quench.
Our chatter dances in the air, like gossamer sweet kiss,
Velvet in such richness
moments of shared bliss.
Golden tea in clear glass mugs, sweet aroma in the air,
Teddy fluff, all sorts of stuff
newsy bits to share.
My dear sister's like a book with tender preparation
many chapters there to look,
but there is no conclusion.
For our tune of loving friendship plays a never ending song
Sad notes and happy ones
for two to play along.
With my sister I share secrets, an opinion, grief or laugh,
A silence never matters
while we enjoy the path.
There's much we need to do, we always have to part,
Separated by time and place
But we stay close in heart.
"For we are Forever Friends"
Soft Whispers from Derry's Heart Poems

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The Journey of A Mother

The Journey Of A Mother
For those who are fortunate enough to still be blessed by having your Mom with you, this is beautiful... For those who aren't... it is even more beautiful. It takes my breath!
The young mother set her foot on the path of life. "Is this the long way?" she asked. And the guide said "Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning"
Since the young mother was happy, she would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children, she fed them and bathed them, and taught them how to tie their shoes and ride a bike and reminded them to feed the dog, and do their homework and brush their teeth.
The sun shone on them, and the young Mother cried, "Nothing will ever be lovelier than this."
Then the nights came, and the storms, and the path was sometimes dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her arms, and the children said, "Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come."
And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary. But at all times she said to the children, "A little patience and we are there." So the children climbed, and as they climbed they learned to weather the storms. And with this, she gave them strength to face the world. Year after year, she showed them compassion, understanding, hope, but most of all... unconditional love.
The days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years, and the mother grew old and she became little and bent. But her children were tall and strong, and walked with courage.
 And the mother, when she lay down at night, looked up at the stars and said, "This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned so much and are now passing these traits on to their children."
And when the way became rough for her, they lifted her, and gave her their strength, just as she had given them hers. One day they came to a hill, and beyond the hill, they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide.
And mother said: "I have reached the end of my journey.
And now I know the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk with dignity and pride, with their heads held high, and so can their children after them. And the children said, "You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you have gone through the gates." And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her.
And they said: "We cannot see her, but she is with us still. A Mother like ours is more than a memory. She is a living presence."
Your Mother is always with you. She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street, she's the smell of certain foods you remember, flowers you pick and perfume that she wore, she's the cool hand on your brow when you're not feeling well, she's your breath in the air on a cold winter's day. She is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow, she is Christmas morning. Your Mother lives inside your laughter. And she's crystallized in every tear drop. A mother shows every emotion... happiness, sadness, fear, jealousy, love, hate, anger, helplessness, excitement, joy, sorrow... and all the while, hoping and praying you will only know the good feelings in life.
She's the place you came from, your first home, and she's the map you follow with every step you take. She's your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you. Not time, not space... not even death!

I'm invisible - The invisible Mom.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more.

Invisible Mothers
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store.
Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'
Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I'm invisible - The invisible Mom.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more.
"Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?"
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?'
I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?'
I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.
She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner,celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well.
 It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:
'To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built,
and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man,
'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof?
No one will ever see it.'
And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does.

 No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.

 The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.'
That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals.
We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

She doesn't trust easily- you can see that in the distance she creates between herself and everyone around her, but she has much love to offer.

You can see it in the kindness that’s in the smiles she gives out to everyone around her.

She has millions of chaotic galaxies of thoughts, thousands of tangled up worlds of words and places in her mind, and you can see it in the way her eyes always seem lost, like they are somewhere else.

She always wants to be somewhere else, it shows in the way she’s always rushing and moving, the way she’s always restless.

Life never went easy on her, and she didn't go easy on herself either.

She is strong and you can see it in her eyes, you can sense it in her voice.

She believes that her body can physically rebuild and heal itself.

 I think that’s because she knew how to recover by herself after life had broken her.

 She knows how  it’s like to be under-appreciated.

So if you can’t see the beauty in her quirks, if you don’t think that maybe she might be a little piece of magic, don’t you dare and say that she is just a girl; because she’s a masterpiece.

 I Wish...............If Only

With all my heart I wish what happened wasn't true.

I wish I could shake you awake from this wretched nightmare.

I wish I could close my eyes and rewind time.

I wish I could make a heart beat again.

I wish I could take away a morsel of your pain.

I wish my heart could break into a million pieces instead of yours.

I wish I could take your pain as my own.

I wish there was more I could say, more I could do, 

more I could offer  to change the horrific reality of what now  is.

But all I can do is cry a river of tears with you, hug you, breathe with you, comfort you,

and sit with you in the middle of your deepest pain.

All I can do is pray with you until the heavens hear our prayers.

All I can do is sit with you as we listen to the clock tick in the silence.

All I can do is wipe your tears as they fall from your eyes,

roll down your cheek and land softly on my shoulder.

All I can do is brace my arms to hold you while you sob and shake wildly.

All I can do is offer my presence, my tears,  my love.

All I can do is build a cocoon around every jagged piece of your broken heart.

All I can do is sit with you as we fumble with the ever broken and missing pieces before us.

All I can do is let my heart break with yours.

All I can do is the sacred work of bearing witness to your primal pain.

All I can do is bleed with you.

All I can do is make sure you know you're not alone.

And you know what?

 It doesn't feel like enough. It will never feel like enough.

I long to take away your pain--  for a second, a minute, an hour.

 I long to fix what is irreparably broken.

 I long to snap my fingers to give you back the one your heart aches to hold again in your arms.

If only,  if only,  if only.

 

-- Angela Miller

www.abedformyheart.com

ALZHEIMER'S CAREGIVER'S PRAYER

"Please be gentle with me for I am grieving. The sea I swim in is a lonely one, and the shore seems miles away. Waves of despair numb my soul as I struggle through each day. My heart is heavy with sorrow. I want to shout and scream and repeatedly ask, “WHY?” At times, my grief overwhelms me, and I weep bitterly, so great is my loss.
Please don’t turn away or tell me... to move on with my life. I must embrace my pain before I can begin to heal. Companion me through my tears and sit with me in loving silence. Honor where I am in my journey, not where you think I should be.Listen patiently to my story.I may need to tell it over and over again. It’s how I begin to grasp the enormity of my loss. Nurture me through the weeks and months ahead.
Forgive me when I seem distant and inconsolable. A small flame still burns within my heart, and shared memories may trigger both laughter and tears. I need your support and understanding. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. I must find my own path. Please, will you walk beside me?"
       ~Author   Jill B. Englar