Friday, January 19, 2018


















I’ve Sung that Song a Time or Two


Rollin down a two-lane highway
Not much needing to say
Hidden under a red moon sky
Listening to the radioman sigh.  

Oh, I’ve sung that song a time or two
Looking straight at you.
Hoping you’d dance to the beat
Me and you right here in our seats.

Let’s slide into a one-way trip
Rocking to the sway of our hips
Underneath the moon’s eclipse
To the song rolling off our lips.

Let the racing beat of our hearts
Rise to the squeal of that guitar.
Your crooked smile glance my way
Leaves me breathless for what to say.

Oh, I’ve sung this song a time or two
Looking straight at you.
Hoping you’d dance to the beat.
Me and you right here in our seats.

I pause to find the words to say
Before this cruising tune fades away.
Let’s keep rolling through life,
Me and you as husband and wife.

I don’t want this song to come to an end.
This time’s slow fading that we spend.
I want to dance through life this way.
Our moments taking my breathe away.

Oh, I’ve sung this song a time or two
Looking straight at you.
Hoping you’d dance to the beat
Me and you right here in our seats.

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

THIS IS US--- an apology and affirmation to my kids

My daughter and my husband and I have been watching the sitcom This Is Us since the beginning of the Pearsons' existence. This imaginary family has pierced through our emotions and motivations.

https://onmilwaukee.com/images/articles/th/this-is-us-recap-fiffth-wheel/this-is-us-recap-fiffth-wheel_fullsize_story1.jpg?20180110105056

My family doesn't live their imaginary life. However, like them, not all has come to what my husband and I had imagined at the outset.  We recall those moments we looked into one another's eyes at each of our three babies' arrivals and quietly resolved to be the parent we knew they would need.  We pledged deep in our hearts to cradle, to protect, to teach, to serve, and to love in our hearts.  We ventured forth through each fast paced day toward making a family life  and making life changing decisions with our words and actions, not always aware how each would mark the heart of each of our kids.

With a teacher and a policeman for parents, you have the makings of a life needing some structure and sanity. But some days, some moments, some decisions just seemed to go awry. Oh my, grace is needed for us parents from the three who were along for our ride.

We don't have the same Pearson drama, but we've still lived a life together and shaped one another. And as I've joked through some moments, "The drama of it all!"

No one parent gets it right all the time.  I know I thought I got it right at times, but now looking back, it wasn't right for perhaps everyone.  I know what looked to be wrong, at times, turned right for some, but not each one.

The raw pain and sorrow and intense emotions that flung open our hearts from the Pearsons' screenplay certainly broke open the thoughts and heart of this mom. I'm glad there is a sea of forgetfulness, but in the cases where memories echo in the hearts of kids, I am glad I have this moment to apologize for the mistakes I've made, the ones I know and don't know about.

So I ask my kids to hear my heart when I offer these words:


 My parenting must come with my disclaimer to you. If I have done things that have hurt you, I am sorry.  I have a reel of those rolling through my mind's eye. If I hurt you and didn't realize it, I am sorry.  I know that saying to a powerless kid, "I tried my best" seems to fall short at mending a sad heart.  I know that I was selfish at times.  I know that some days I gave in to the tired and weary.  I know sometimes I took the easy way out with the angry.  I know maybe I didn't always try as hard as I should have. I know I didn't always see all your needs, especially those that a kid would beg for a parent to see without having to speak them and maybe not even knowing how to express them.  I know I  wasn't a perfect parent.



I'm sure even the best intentioned mother or father can slideshow through the film of their parenting and see clips of episodes that they would beg a retake for, maybe even a second, third, or fourth retake. I know I didn't always get what I intended when I did try to be better. In fact, I know I missed areas I needed to change because my perspective just wasn't clear at the time. 

Then that's when looking back the shame can creep and sorrow seep into the picture.

I know, too, that an apology doesn't make everything picture perfect, but if moments can be reconciled for good and emotions saddled into deepened relationships, then an apology is needed. After all, this is us.

I don't want my adult kids to just memorize the lines on my growing old face but rather the lines from my mouth that speak the truth of knowing I didn't always get it right, but I'm still here listening cause I'm not here to defend my actions but defend their hearts because this is the us.

I want my adult kids to know that I'm not here to recreate a picture from my perspective, but rather I'm here to own the life we lived together, so they know that in the life we are still creating together they feel safe and comforted and not alone. This is the us.

Since we have grown older together and know our less than perfect togetherness, we find compassion for one another. We know we have been blessed beyond measure to be your parents and create a shared life with you. The love we have for one another knows that we can never hold one another to perfection, but we will promise to always hold one another in grace because, after all, this is us, and we own it!

Friday, January 5, 2018

WHEN YOU DON'T WIN A GRAMMY, ACM , EMMY, GOLDEN GLOBE, BUT YOU MIGHT WIN A CRITICS CHOICE AWARD

Let's face it. I don't normally win accolades. I'm not famous for the many awards I've won.

I have never even been nominated for an award the likes of a Grammy. Nominated? Did I say nominated? Gracious me, I've never even been asked to sing anywhere besides church (and now that I think of it, not even there in a very long time...hmmm).

Except thinking back, by the way I sang my babies to sleep, I may have been nominated for a People's Choice Award if they could have been on that committee. And my dance moves while I sing along with Keith Urban to "Fighter" should earn this 52 year old music dancing fool an American Dance Award, even if my husband says so himself. 


I'm realizing that I might just have more in common with Faith Hill, well besides my obvious golden locks and great voice (choke).  I hear tell her three girls didn't realize how many prestigious awards their parents had won. Looking back into my closet of awards, mine may not be on such grand display either.    

Yet, it's a slow subtle smile that slings itself across my heart when I stare back in time and dust off the memories of those award winning moments. 

Reading the labels on my awards, they certainly were given for the lesser known categories:  

If you sit down and listen to the stories, you'd know I can make a room laugh just from laughing at my own jokes.  That's pure genius.   

I can settle a trio of kids at night (and throughout my life an entire classroom) with my voice as it makes words on the page come alive. 

I can make sense out of the storyline our lives are taking in a two hour or less phone call. 

I can bring peace and comfort to your heart because there's nothing mine would rather do. (For my grandkids, it's sometimes just a needed hold, hug, or booboo kiss.)

I can create a moment in time or painting on a page of words. I can help you do it, too, even though you didn't believe you could until we talked it out.

I can read your body language and your lips, but not your mind.  But I earnestly want to know and understand what's in it more than all that weather talk.

I can create a masterpiece salad for dinner that makes the stress of a long day seem to slide away.

I can hold my hands up in prayer for you as long as you need because I also have an army of warrior friends I'll text who will hold you, too.  

I can find the beach and walk with you to stop the anxious life from stirring too long. 

I can't paint it, act it, or write a song about it (well except that one called "Country Song" I wrote for my husband), but I have captured a lifetime of awe deep in my heart at the beauty I see in people, places, and moments.


At my acceptance speech for these awards (of which there is a blue carpet because I look better standing on that color), I  feel like I will mimic many of the other acceptance speakers that I've heard throughout the years. They felt humbled by the family, friends, opportunities, and experiences life presented them. They didn't feel they were exceptional among men or women, but for that moment they were revered as such.  

So, when in great company at my award show (That's the Average Joe Awards among which you are one of the nominees),  I'll bow and mimic at my acceptance speech, "It's just an honor to even be nominated." 

At this point in my speech, I expect there could be audience eye rolls. We have lived long enough to know there will always be critics who will wonder how in the world any performance of mine or yours is deserving of the slightest award. But who really is the critic here and whose choice is it to give an award?

So, my speech will end with acknowledgments to my family and the friends I've journeyed life with who supported me to this point, it really is an honor. 


IT REALLY IS AN HONOR AND A PLEASURE TO DO LIFE WITH YOU. I SHARE THIS AWARD WITH YOU BECAUSE YOU DESERVE THIS AWARD,TOO, FOR ALL YOU ARE AND ALL YOU DO! 

CHEERS TO US!

Wednesday, December 27, 2017

WHEN THE CELEBRATIONS CEASE

Inspired by the Story of Luke 1 & 2, this writing makes parallels with our world today...

WHEN THE CELEBRATIONS CEASE


When the birth of a joyful season gives way to the next cold winter day
When the courage to live your dreams and hopes are deflated by King-sized anguish and wonderings
When the diligently searched for baby-perfect beauty is adored and worshipped, but then disappears
When the certainty of the path winds to feel like one of exile
When the burdens of life become the most significant events in the world  
When future hope and comfort are destroyed by trickery and fury
When gifts of kindness, joy, and peace become lost in boxed thinking and wrapped in paperwork.
When special care and wise words for the Mary and Josephs, the poor, the rejected, the homeless, the powerfully hungry fades to the voice of the power hungry
When the joy and warmth eye-witnessed in embracing loved ones dulls to cold receptions
When the prophetic past conceived in us is obscured by fear raising voices
When the ordinary moments of a holiday shepherded by the star struck spectacular muddies to a dark, lonely journey home

We still need to allow the weeping and mourning to turn to dancing
We still need to listen to the dreams that direct our lives
We still need to find significance in the beginning of small things
We still to be guided by the Spirit of angels in real-world clothes
We still need to escape to find our purposed journeys
We still need to serve the secret fight within against supremacy and status
We still need to liberate the recorded Word
We still need to proclaim the message of peace and goodwill towards men on earth

We still need to seek saving graces
We still need to rediscover this powerful narrative of His heavenly birth

We still need the whispered cries of a Savior to sink deep in our souls



Monday, December 11, 2017

MEET ME ON THE PORCH

Meet me on the porch.
We'll ponder our words,
Search our wondering hearts, 
Linger longer together,
And slow this dizzy life. 

Let's search the hickory limbs 
For baby raccoons tumbling over mama
And robins songs bathing in bushes nearby
While the moonlight crawls up the sky.

Rest your lemonade on the rocker 
And silence the world's noise to
Coneflowers flowing in the breeze
And cars' dust shadowing the lane.

Meet me on the porch.
We'll ponder our words,
Search our wondering hearts, 
Linger longer together,
And slow this dizzy life. 


We make a wish list of dreams 
From our hopes for tomorrow. 
Talking too much, maybe not enough,
About the cares of yesterday.

Our slowed down rocking 
Teases life to stop for a second.
We step off life's merry-go-round 
To come sit quiet together, so













Meet me on the porch.
We'll ponder our words,
Search our wondering hearts, 
Linger longer together,
And slow this dizzy life.  

The dim lights near the door 
Beckon us to stay just a bit more.
The fans' whir keep us cool.
There's no place better to ask for.

When the words from our lips 
No longer light the sky 
And a few simple lullabies
Don't bring sweet dreams at night.


You should meet me on the porch.
We'll ponder our words,
Search our wondering hearts, 
Linger longer together,
And slow this dizzy life.

It's the long porch sitting
When we've lost what we were getting,
That heals the hurting heart
And braces us for a new start.

Pondering our words on the porch,
Staring at pillars for strength,
Sheltered from worries of the world
We come home once again, so 

Meet me on the porch.
We'll ponder our words,
Search our wondering hearts, 
Linger longer together,
And slow this dizzy life. 


It's a long porch, so take a sit
And listen to the muse of a friend.
There's chairs for a whole family
And even quite a few misfits.

We'll sing your heart a song,
And we'll tarry right along,
Maybe make some rights from wrongs
When we gather 'round the porch.

So,  meet me on the porch.
We'll ponder our words,
Search our wondering hearts, 
Linger longer together,
And slow this dizzy life. 













Wednesday, December 6, 2017

CHANGES BRING CHANCES

I wrote this poem for my sister who claims she loves my 
poetic versing and wished I would write a poem for her.

Change Brings Chances

New winds sail across the waves
Like a breeze lifts wings in flight.

A resting head on a shoulder
Dreams of sunshine tomorrow.

Tears blur the lines on the page
But clear the heart of pain’s shadows.

Cause change brings chances,
No dice roll odds to lay down,

Just boot trekking dew mist ground,
Searching a new path to be found.


http://carolaround.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/morning-mist-breeze-cool-jungle-mist-morning-path-wild.jpg



Tuesday, December 5, 2017

WHAT'S BIRTHING IN YOU?



Feeling the birthing pains...

When there's a stirring of the leaves and the flicker of a flame in the heart that begins to howl like the wind and roar like a lion, your soul battens down the hatches to weather the changes coming. 

Living the same won't be the same living in the days to come.

It's the purposed knowing deep inside of the Spirituals sung on the cotton fields that may be disguised but refuses to be beckoned away.

It's when the dry, weary, empty, cracking souls bleed blood red like falling leaves from barren trees that the harsh, cold, numb reality of tradition must flesh anew a birth.

What's birthing in you?

We faintly hear the whisper to believe what's growing inside. 

We might begin to squirm with the subtle moving inside for the anguish of deserted dreams.

We might stop breathing for fear of trusting unchartered plans.

We might spin dizzy at hearing warrior voices slinging shame and delivering glory.



What's birthing in you delivering?

We might feel the expanding weight of the burden of traveling an offbeat path to an unfamiliar haven like the carrying of expectations of the whole world on our backs.

But the strong beating of a vulnerable heart clings to staying steady and feeling the imminent swelling of hope inside.


And harbored regrets dissipate like a wind-swept maned Palomino freed from saddle and spurs.


And we welcome the red-cross relief that gives struggling self-sufficiency a sense of purpose. 


What difference does your birthing make?

When your heart's sound check is the prelude to your life's reality check.

When your single pinging piano melody joins the orchestra. 

When your newly birthed heart awakens a husband, a home, a generation.

When the birthed baby resting at Mary's chest becomes your Great I AM.

Your birthing has made a difference.