naked

A woman sitting in the dark corner, naked as the moment she was born. She sits quietly. Watching with each passing day, I ignore her for the most part. She speaks only deep in the night. She speaks of life, of the most wretched things, of horrors that keep me awake. She speaks of only things that I can see.

She is a mirror image of myself.  She has all the same flaws, the same scars, the same eyes, yet she smiles in earnest.  She accepts all these things without hesitation.  She seeks no recognition or fortune or fame.  She merely exists.

In the wee hours of the morning, when the night is still upon the earth, while the stars are still twinkling in the dark sky, she reveals her soul.  She reveals the desires, the hopes and dreams buried deep inside.  Speaking softly as a breeze blowing through a meadow, rustling the tall grasses, she reveals her heart.  She shows the light that burns in the window of her soul.  Teaching me, taunting me, she laughs and plays without responsibility.

Naked not only of clothing for the real world, but naked to show the world.  To exist without restraint, without worry, without hiding her scars, her passions, her love.  She accepts such things.  She is naked both physically and mentally, stripped of all we cover up, of all we hide from the world, of all that we keep in the past. Showing with stark beauty that we are no better than anyone else in the world.  She begins to dance with grace and beauty, allowing all the love and kindness to escape in palette of color that lights up the darkest of places.  She fills my heart with hope, with laughter, with love and understanding for she accepts all, judging none.  She allows me to see beyond the flaws of my own scarred heart, to see others in earnest.  She dances softly, gracefully to the simple sound of a beating heart, my heart.  Image

 

She sees no color, no faith, no religion, no flaws, only the naked true of others.  She sees nothing but heart songs.  She sees only the good and kindness of others, their passions, their fears, their pain.  She accepts these things. 

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A rose for love

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Six years ago today heaven got a new angel.  A precious soul that touched so many hearts.  It is hard to believe that it has been six years, looking back it often seems a lifetime ago.  Mom, you now live in our hearts and you are missed everyday.  But I know that you watch over us now as you did when you walked the earth with great love and caring.  You still make us laugh, make us cry, and always let us know just how much we can love and give.  So, today I celebrate your life with a day filled with love and friendship, a day filled with beautiful flowers, and the wonderful sound of laughter.  I celebrate with outstretched arms to hold and embrace anyone that needs loved and helped in your honor.

Until our souls reunite, you live in my heart. Love you now and always.

a road tripping kind of day

The sun was just coming up on the horizon this morning as the pick-up cleared the city limits of Early.  Headed south down the winding, hilly country road toward Austin.  Instead of ratting around and getting the camera out, I cranked the radio and let the world slip away.  It was one of those sunrises that engulfs your soul and lifts your heart and a road trip and good tunes added to it.

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The further south we traveled, the greener and more alive nature became, blue bonnets began dotting the ditches, and as you looked out across the landscape the bright green of the mesquites against the dark of the cedars and the few oaks that are still shedding their autumn leaves made it look like a quilt had been spread over the hills.  As I got out of the truck in the parking lot of Kristen’s apartment complex, the incessant chatter of birds filled my ears.  There were mockingbirds, that sat high up in the trees mocking the sounds of things like car clickers, car alarms, and even a good impression of an engine roaring to life.  The bluejay came down to be his nosy self and talked to us as well.  There were clackers and mourning doves adding their noises to the song.  It was beautiful.  

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Running around with Kristen, getting parts and installing parts was fun.  I loved the view of the Austin skyline from Trey’s office building.  

 

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Driving home, from Lakeway, Texas down 71  to Burnet, Texas was amazing.  The winding two lane stretch of road is dotted with old barns and ranches that have been there longer than I have been alive.  The green grass and wild flowers coloring the landscape, cows and horses grazing peacefully, I looked up at one point to see a gorgeous herd of buffalo.  Crossed the new bridge in Marble Falls and examined what was left of the one they blew up this week.  Peace and tranquility filling my heart.  I did not take as many pictures this trip as I usually would, instead I kept it all just for me.

A much needed escape from the everyday, a great visit with the kiddo, and some tune time with the stereo, yes I would say it was a wonderful day.

more than just…..

From the moment that our eyes met, our hands touched, I knew that you would break my heart a million times.  I knew that you would mend it and become a part of my very soul.  I knew from the moment that I looked into your eyes we were meant to be.

As the stars twinkled in the wee hours of the morning, we sat talking.  From the time you arrived we talked about the weather, the moon, television, people in our lives, people that have escaped our lives, we have talked of loves and jobs, we have sat in idle chatter, or quiet as a mouse.  The few hours that we get to spend seem packed with all we need to say.  They seem packed with a quiet that steals all hurt, all hate, all the bad and replace it again with hope, laughter and sight.

We watched the television, played on the computer but I don’t always remember what the content was, but I can tell you every breath you took, every emotion that you felt.  I can tell you without you saying just where your heart and mind is.  

As I finally laid my head upon the pillow, listening to the soft sounds of the night.  The birds chirping just outside the window, the train blowing its whistle somewhere down the line, I drift softly into slumber knowing beyond the moon and the stars that you are so much a part of me.  You are the calm that soothes my broken heart, the laughter that rings through my soul, and you are amazing and beautiful.  A complete and wonderful peacefulness washes over me, I know that as I face the battles of life in front of me that you are right behind me fighting too.  I know that I am fighting just as hard for you also.

You are so much more than my best friend, my confidant, my peace, my heart, or my child….. you are the true definition of my daughter.  

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Old Houses

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The gentle breeze rustles the leaves as I venture close.  Set back off the road, the old one has stood the test of time.  Left alone and forgotten, the ravages of time unkind.  The creek of the boards under my feet as I step up on the porch gives an eerie feeling to the early morning fog.  I stand still listening for more than the sound of my feet.  Slowly, I cross the distance from the steps to the screen door left ajar by some visitor of yesterday’s gone by.  The metal mesh hanging partially in its frame, the bottom board of the screen resting crooked on the boards of the old porch, parts of the old gingerbread design missing and the old metal hinges holding fast are rusted so badly that they are now a deep red color.  The old green paint that was so lovingly applied so many years ago is now cracked and peeling from the old wood, chips falling onto the porch as the breeze kisses them softly.  My hand slides gently behind the metal handle as I pull gently.  Trying not to do any more damage to the door than the weather already has.  It scrapes along the boards of the old wooden porch, leaving more marks as it opens.  I step through the threshold, the fog outside seeming to follow me into the house.

I stand in the living area of the old house, the bottom of the stair case climbing the far wall.  Barren of any paint, built years ago of simple plywood.  It climbs up the wall not in grand style but in a working mans style.  Purposeful.  Strong.  Simple.  As my eyes adjust to the lighting, the fog still lingering, I look around the room.  Everything in it is there for a purpose, this was not a place of only beauty, it was a place of function.  I stand there and let my mind and heart travel back in time to when it was someone’s pride and joy.

A warm fire in the fireplace, chairs to sit upon, a lamp standing on a table in front of the window, burning softly at night it is as if there is still a warmness about the room.  No fog, no cold morning, and filled with love.

We all know places like this.  Places that still dot the countryside.  People that we pass everyday.

What?  People?  Yes I said it, people we pass everyday.  This house is no different than the heart of that old gentleman that you pass on the street.  It is no different than the young, single mother struggling to make ends meet.  In fact, there is but a fleeting moment in any humans life that their heart and soul is like that of a new home.  With each passing moment, each passing day, everything plays a roll upon who we are.  We can choose to be that warm and loving home, inviting passersby inside by our own lamplight.  Or we can be that old house barren in the fog.

It takes but a single person opening that screen door and stepping inside to see the warmth and beauty that lies within.  To see our strengths, our passion, our love and to share in that special place and time.  If for only a moment, long enough.  To see past the exterior that life has weathered and battered and be embraced in what is important.

 

 

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the heart

One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it.

Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.

Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said “Why, your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine.”

 The crowd and the young man looked at the old man’s heart. It was beating strongly, but full of scars, it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn’t fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.

The people stared – how can he say his heart is more beautiful, they thought? The young man looked at the old man’s heart and saw its state and laughed. “You must be joking,” he said. “Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears.”

“Yes,” said the old man, “Yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love – I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart, but because the pieces aren’t exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared.

Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn’t returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges – giving love is taking a chance.

Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?”

The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands. The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man’s heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.

The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man’s heart flowed into his. They embraced and walked away side by side.

How sad it must be to go through life with a whole untouched heart.

 

it is amazing how the more patches and tears you have the more love you have to give.

sunshine

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As a general rule I am  a positive person.  I do although have my days.  Yesterday was one of them, I finally got angry.  I got angry because I let people push too far.  But I regained my outlook on life after I got to work.

An elderly lady came into the store, I had never seen her before but the regular that I was waiting on knew her.  The ladies spoke and the regular customer made the remark that she had not been feeling well.  The new lady smiled and said, “You know at our age, we have lived through so much.  It is just a blessing to be able to live.  That is like the warm sunshine outside today, I can look at it and know without a doubt that it is a blessing.”

I stood there in awe.  She was completely right, it is only when we endure the storms that life has that we truly can call the sunshine a blessing.  This storm in my life will pass and then I too can look back and see what incredible blessings I have.  I count the small ones every day, look for them in people and places that others see only a rain cloud.  I am blessed and I will continue to seek those blessings out, daily.