Heather T.

Archive for the ‘PPS-Poetry-Prose-Stories I’ve Written’ Category

Muse Monday

In Muse Monday, PPS-Poetry-Prose-Stories I've Written on December 7, 2009 at 9:54 pm

When once into my mouth you came,
I did not enjoy the diving game,
Little squiggly chewy thing,
Spitting out, away to fling,
Try again, I might, I may
Try again, another day
Here you look so tasty, true
Mouth unimpressed by the likes of you,
Until one time, tender and fine
You jumped right into this mouth of mine
I chewed, I tasted, I swallowed and found
My liking ready for another round.
© Heather T {simply me}
Someone we know began a new blog today,
do visit her and many others as we share in Muse Monday.


Having An Emotional Moment

In My Memories, my mom, Odd Me, PPS-Poetry-Prose-Stories I've Written on October 30, 2009 at 5:16 pm

That’s how it seemed
When I drove along this road
On my way to see you there
Standing at the door
Of the old house
The old yellow house

As I drive through the town
On this same road of yesterday
Not on my way to see you
Standing at the door
Of the old house
The old yellow house

Yesterday has gone
Today is the moment
Yet I miss you
You were there just yesterday
And now you’re gone

In my heart I know
And in my soul I feel
For the day will come
When I’m on a new road
And I wait just to see you
Standing at the door
Not at the old house
The old yellow house
Standing at the door
At the new home
The new home for my soul

Some day

I know that I have better pictures of the house in which I grew up in, but this was the first one that my hands touched today and I thought I’d share it with you. It was a photo that my mother had taken once upon a time; and, actually, she was taking a picture of the tree – not the house.

My mom had great love for this house, which was originally an old school house in town that had been reconstructed into a home. The woman that lived across the street from me growing up had children that went to school there and they’d tell me stories of going to get the firewood for the classroom to be warm in the winter months.

Me and Pooh-Bear

I miss her often, so often…my mother and the influence that she had on me when she was here.  I will never be the same person that I was before she passed on. It seems at times that I had more strength in myself in those days than I do now. Maybe I had that strength because she felt she didn’t at times. Sometimes I think that it was there just to prove that I was my own person.

She Was Pretty Without It, But She Didn't Know

I know when times of growth are beginning again, as do most of us. There is a familiar time of stagnant attitude within that transforms into insight, revelation, understanding of yourself and then you have the “aha”, I get it, poignancy of thought. Only to find a little while after that you’ve grown through the stretch of self…just one step more. It’s quite the climb friends.  Most people pay no attention to how they grow, but most people pay no attention to flowers and bugs and the other wonderful things of life that matter, either 🙂

Most of you are thinking, “Uh-Oh. What in the world is wrong with her? Is she depressed? Is she losing it?” I’ll answer that question before you even ask it…

I am a sensitive, outgoing, happy, content, faith-filled, discontent, unruly, annoyed, understanding, loving, unmotivated, artistic, positive and sometimes lazy gal. There are times when I am sad inside, times when I am over-joyed with life. I find that I am a good blend of mixed ingredients. A few things that I am not and will not be is rude, crude, obnoxious, thieving, lying, tormenting, hurtful or mean for no apparent reason; I will also never tell anyone that they must do things in the same way that anyone else does because I understand that we are all made differently.

I suppose that you could say that I’m a mutt of emotions 🙂

Really, I am not depressed today – just very thoughtful and I had to put the words out there to get the emotion flowing. I’m done now.

Spiritual Sundays, He Knows

In Inspirations, PPS-Poetry-Prose-Stories I've Written, Spiritual Sunday's on October 4, 2009 at 2:21 pm
I turned on the water in the shower this morning and stepped in with every intention on pushing forward, getting ready to go to church. As the water rushed over my head, I began feeling that heaviness in my head and in my stomach again. Something has been trying to settle in and take over me these last few days. It’s terrible to fight with yourself emotionally, sensibly, wondering if your choices are good or not. Yet, I know they are. Even though I have some time to myself three days a week, I find that this school year is a full schedule of running around for me. With Lucien in preschool, Sam in soccer, birthday parties and the bus runs; not to mention the other daily tasks of life – I find the need even greater to take care of my body.


I can not allow myself to wear out, but to be home from church always seems like that old feeling of skipping school. I know that this is a false guilt and I can’t let it overtake me…but it’s still there initially and it’s something to fight off.

Each time I make the decision to stay home from church, I find myself tremendously blessed by The Lord. He fills my life perfectly with His presence, with His peace and with His own Life. I suppose that He is able to touch me so deeply because He can see the wholeness of my heart, the love that I have for Him, the “who” of me. He knows.

This morning, I visited one of my faithfully encouraging blog friends and found a beautiful theme for Sunday’s. You know me well enough to see that this is one I have to take part in (made to worship…I am).

The best part of sharing in this weekly meme….is that I can share from my heart, whatever I feel like sharing – however I want to worship – every Sunday 🙂

You strengthen me
from within
my God
Every bit of time
I allow for myself
I find You
here with me
and I know
these are the moments
most pure and true
to who I am
to who You are

O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me.   You know when I sit down or stand up.  You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.   You see me when I travel and when I rest at home.     You know everything I do.  You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord.   You go before me and follow me.  You place your hand of blessing on my head.   Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!
~Psalm 139:1-6 NLT

(PPS) The Book…from beginning to end.

In PPS-Poetry-Prose-Stories I've Written on September 15, 2009 at 5:30 pm

{this is fictional, just so you know}

Part 1

Searching through the attic after my mother passed away, I came upon an old trunk. I’d never seen this trunk before, but assumed that it must have been one that was made by my grandfather, her father; it just had that loving touch to it.

I opened the trunk to find a little book; one that seemed very personal and unique. When I touched it, I felt something inside me change. I couldn’t tell you exactly what the change was, but to explain it I could only say that an awareness came over me. The book felt as though it meant something.

I packed it in the box, along with the other many treasures that my mother told me would be my own on this day; the day for life to become a memory. Who could have explained to me that this day would feel so full, so empty, all at the same time? People would tell me how I would feel, what I would experience but I was never one for advice or one to live through the experience of another; but one that needed to make my own.

When I came home later that night, I opened the box. Everyone was asleep finally. It’s not easy, you know; taking care of everyone else and trying to find some time to take care of you too, but thankfully my relationship with God is one of inner strength and intimacy.

I could hear them all sleeping, in the quiet and darkness of the night. They each had a busy day of their own, all coming together to share in the family life of one home; not realizing the effort of keeping it all together, running smoothly…they can sleep.

I made myself a cup of hot tea, snuggled up in the blanket on this cold night and opened the box. Taking some time for myself to reminisce through the world of my childhood, days gone by; almost like they never happened but knowing the truth that they did because I could feel the love in my heart…the feeling of life that they made within me. Searching through the photos and trinkets, I felt close to my mother once again; but still not close enough to feel her embrace…until…I came across the book.

Part 2

In all of the years growing up, living in that house, I’d never seen this book. I wondered how it was possible; I mean the house wasn’t so large that you would lose things in it. How could something like this have slipped by me? Then, I remembered that it was in the attic where I found it, in that old trunk. Maybe, for some reason, my mother tucked it away for my future – but why hadn’t she left a note of it for me, told me about it being in there? It all seemed so secretive in my thoughts.

The book, it felt like soft leather in my hands and comforted me like your favorite lovey would have when you were a child. On the front cover was a picture of me taken shortly after I was born. I assumed that meant it was that of a baby book or something, one where my mother recorded the days of infancy, my growth, and my firsts for everything. It was kind of exciting having such a treasure in my hands.

When I opened the book, I was amazed at the lighting in the room. It seemed to change as it would when a candle was lit, even though the light was on. I know this all sounds a bit strange, but that’s the feeling I had. I became warm like when you’re resting beside the fireplace in the cold winter day, with the snow piling outside your window….that kind of warmth.

I took a sip of my tea and snuggled in a little more. Inside the book were words that I recognized and many that I did not. This was not your average baby book, if it was one at all. I read my name, written so elegantly at the top of the cover page. Below my name was written, “Child of God, Born in Heaven on this Day. The date was not my birthday though; it wasn’t even close and really didn’t make any sense to me.

As I continued reading, I found that my life was all written out; not like you’d find in a journal or that of a baby book. It was more so like a movie, or like a home movie but with life in the pages…real life. I didn’t get very far before I heard someone scurrying around upstairs. One of the boys were awake, most likely the youngest.

I hurried to read just a little more. Before I put the book back into the box, I came across a certain area in the pages that seemed as a map and read…”The choices of living will lead one to perfection on every path when the heart remains faithful.” Wanting so desperately to continue reading, I couldn’t, because at that finding I looked up and standing before me was my youngest with a tear in his eye and arms out stretched…”I need you, mommy”.

Part 3

It would be days before I was able to find some alone time and return to the book, but I did. It was very early in the morning before anyone in the house had wakened. I came downstairs to get a cup of coffee and sat down on the couch, turned on the light and with the greatest anticipation, I reached into the box for the book.

To my surprise, it had changed its color and was no longer a burgundy wine but a solid brown – just like leather. I wondered if I had imagined this change, if my colors may have been interrupted by the lighting on that first evening or if I was just too extremely tired to notice that the book was brown. It was, however, the same book.

I neglected to mention before how the first pages of the book read. Each page shared the story of my beginnings in life, of my birth, my growth as a little baby and the love that was unselfishly given to me by my mother. I was born with a birth defect, what is called a club foot and went through intensive training with my legs for them to become normal one day; well, as normal as they would be now. Truly, these feet have served me well through the years.

I reminisced through those beginning pages a little longer this time. As I turned the page, I remembered it well; it was the one with the map on it and the quote that read…”The choices of living will lead one to perfection on every path when the heart remains faithful.” This time I was able to go a bit further beyond the pages and was full of anticipation. A feeling washed over me when I began to flip the page, I hesitated and overwhelmed by that feeling, I stopped. I just sat there and stared at the map for a few minutes. On the page were words and choices and little footprints, not many making much sense to me. At the ending of the path, well what I appeared to be the ending, was a golden bridge to no where.

It all seemed so mystical and unreal to me, but who am I to question the pages? The book has my history in it, and possibly my future. I continued to turn the page and quickly understood the map when I read these words…”At the end of every path is a choice. All paths have led you to the same glorious destination in your life; through some, you have carried hurt and heartache but you were never alone. This day that you are living in now could lead you through the paths of ease, if you choose but this is not recommended for you. At the end of these pages, tucked away behind what appears to be a doorway, lies a key. This key will unlock what you see on the next page.”

Unbelievable; I couldn’t make sense of it all. My thoughts were swirling around and I felt my heart pumping as though it was going to jump out of my body. I searched the previous pages to gain a deeper understanding and concluded that this book could lead me to live the rest of my life the easy way, kind of like finding the “easy way out”.

Now, I gained the wisdom to understand why my mother had never shown me this book; although a bit surprised by the fact that she hadn’t. She was always trying to give me advice, keep my safe, and hide me from hurt and pain.

I wondered if anyone else had ever found such a book as this, and what they’d done with it. I certainly wasn’t given a book like this for each of my children. Maybe everyone finds their own eventually, when the timing is right in their life. I had no answers but I knew what I needed to do. I began talking to God, asking Him why this was given to me at this point in my life and seeking His guidance. I heard nothing. I felt nothing. It was as though He was in my presence, closer than He’d ever been but not communicating…leaving me to my free will and the lessons I’d learned throughout my life with Him.

I made my choice quickly. I closed the book, placed it back into the box and tucked it in my attic where it could hide for days, even years to come.

I am now 62 years old and as I write this, I feel overwhelmed by the truth of that book. To think that we would hold our life in our hands, the destination of our souls written on pages of a book to read with our own eyes; seems so absurd.

Today, I can honestly say that I am thankful for every experience I’ve been given. I can know with no doubt that each path I’d chosen was one with a faithful heart, always seeking God first and trusting myself enough to know that I made the right choices. I’ve lived with every bit of my ability to touch, love and inspire; to forgive and to share. My life has been full of abundance, almost to overflowing at times but never a day went by without a grateful heart.

I found the book again today; it was in the place where I tucked it away all those years ago. My children are fully grown and making some of their own now. As I reached into the box for the book, a very bright light shone through the crack. I lifted the cover to find that the book changed in color, once again; it is now a golden yellow, like that of a sunflower dazzling with sunshine. When I touched it, again I felt that feeling of love and warmth surge through my entire body and before I could even open a page, the book absorbed itself within me. It’s hard to explain but I will say that it seemed like the fairy dust you’d see in an old Disney movie.

I didn’t know what to make of it but when I came back down the stairs; my husband looked at me and took my hand as if something were wrong. He sat me down beside him on the couch and asked what I’d been doing up in the attic. I told him about the book and the history, what I experienced through the pages and in the attic just then.

He told me that my face glowed when I came down the stairs like it did when I was pregnant for the first time. I told him that I felt full of joy and warmth, love. It was then when we both heard the voice of God, together, for the first time in our marriage. He said, “You’ve lived your life with purpose, with heart, with truth and listening. You’ve walked on the paths of choice, as you were born with free will and I, Your God, am pleased with you.”

My children were there in the room, with my grandchildren and my husband. All of us were laughing and crying with joy and then I saw her. It was my mother and she was holding out her hand to me. She looked as beautiful as she did in those pictures of her youth. I took her hand and she led me to a golden bridge.

The bridge seemed so familiar as we walked over it to the beautiful world waiting, and then I remembered for the last time…it was the bridge on the map.
Part 4

Just as we reached the other side of the bridge, my mother hugged me and told me that she loved me. She continued to say that it wasn’t time for me to take that step off of the bridge yet, but that she would definitely be there waiting for me when it was time. When I turned to see where that next step would lead me someday, a blinding light shocked my eyes. I could hear people, noises and chaos echoing loudly in my ears – in my head and I felt ready to explode.

There was no change in my position, as I felt it but clarity came to my eyes and it seemed that I must have been lying down because I could see my husband standing above me. He was looking down at me with a terribly frightened, yet hopeful expression on his face. He was crying out to God, “Thank You. Thank You.”

The next thing I felt was a jerk and someone pulled my body from one place to another. Later, I’d awaken to a beautiful room filled with flowers and bears and bunnies. I was in a hospital room. Soon after I opened my eyes and realized where I was, my children came in crying and so happy to see me; following them was my husband. He told me that the day I was in my mother’s attic, a very large, old iron lamp fell on me. I thought it odd that I didn’t remember that but apparently, it knocked me out. Apparently, everything that I had experienced with the book was like a dream…like a hallucination of my mind. I felt sad and shocked by all of it.

Time went on but they wouldn’t allow me to go home from the hospital for another two weeks. The day I came home, everyone was so excited; including me. The house was cleaner than I’d ever seen it in my life, cleaner than I cleaned it, even. It smelled of pork roast and fresh bread, and apple pie. There were flowers in every corner of the room. I felt the love, in incredible amounts.

I sat down on the couch and my oldest son brought me a blanket. As I sat there with my boys, my husband came to me carrying that old wooden trunk. I just looked at it for the longest time, and they all just sat impatiently like they knew something I didn’t.

I was told while in the hospital that I’d been unconscious, in a coma, for a month; an entire month’s time of my life had been taken from me. My family lived for that amount of time, in fear that I wouldn’t make it through. I can’t imagine what they felt, but I know now that they are showing me their love in ways they never did before.

I opened the trunk to find all of the things that I’d put aside, in my mother’s attic, that day. My husband found the pile and filled the trunk with it. Underneath what I thought was the last item, sat a box. It was wrapped in a burgundy wine colored paper and tied with a shiny golden yellow ribbon. When I unwrapped the box, I found a leather covered book with my baby picture on the front cover. Inside was my name and the history of my days, unlike the book in my dreams…or whatever that experience may have been.

I began to cry and shared everything that I thought I had truly experienced while laying still on that hospital bed. My husband was in awe of it all, as was I. When I flipped the pages of the book, I found my mother’s writing on every page…in every open space there would have been. She had filled the book with the details of my growth, the firsts for everything, her feelings and thoughts and aspirations. It was dated from the day that I was born until the day before she passed on. And the last words of the book read, “The choices of living will lead one to perfection on every path when the heart remains faithful. I will be waiting for you at the other side of the bridge one day but until then, always remember that you are never alone.” 

The End

MPPS-Up In The Distance (from beginning to end)

In PPS-Poetry-Prose-Stories I've Written on August 13, 2009 at 7:38 pm
I’ve chosen to kick off my new blog address with a ker-bang and give you a short story today. From this day forward, when I post something a bit fictional – I will title it with “MPPS”, which stands for My Poetry-Prose-Stories (labeled as such on my side bar). I know that sometimes, I can be long winded and others may not be interested in a long read about my daily life. Some are interested in my imagination and I thought a little line, such as the “PPP” for a posting I’ve shared with Pictures, Poetry & Prose would catch the eye on the updates. I just want to give a simple eye-catcher when I post from my own imagination and prompts.

Okay…done with the explanations. Let’s get to the story…..


We were just walking the path during our hike, when my mother looked up and saw something far away. I heard her tell my brother that it was like one of those creatures from The Never Ending Story, only different because there never was an actual creature quite like that. It scared me a little bit, but not enough to say anything; just enough to make me wonder what it was they saw.

As we got closer and they kept talking, I figured it out. They were talking about a tree. It was a tree that looked all mysterious, but I was too young to understand it all back then; I was only four years old.

I look back to this photo, remembering that day and the talk they were having. Now I understand the mystery of that tree. It’s as though I can see it in the same way that my mother did. I’m older now and able to appreciate the gift that it is, to still hold this imagination…the imagination as a child. I’ve also found the same appreciation in writing that my mother had, so today I’m going to share a story with you about this tree.


Up in the distance, a mysterious tree stood tall; looking as if it were hiding from those passing by, as if it had a story of it’s own to tell. Underneath all of the vines, which seemed to strangle away its own beauty, stood a tiny mass of strength, strength to remain, strength to endure.

I approached the tree with curious eyes, wondering what it would say if only it could speak. Touching the leaves from the vine, they trembled. It affected me in a way that I’ll never forget, causing me to embrace what it felt. I trembled like you would when stepping into ice cold water on a hot summer’s day. I imagined that the tree felt the same way, and then….


…I suddenly began to understand. It was as if the tree were talking to me, without the need for words; almost like a vision in my mind, an audible voice from inside my head. It told me that it was a root, the offsprint of a very important tree, a seedling once planted; and the tree reminded me of the verse from the Beginning of God’s Creation which says…“Now the Lord God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and there he put the man he had formed. And the Lord God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground – trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food. In the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.”

And then the tree continued, “I am the offspring, a seedling from the generations of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Man does not recognize me any longer because I bare no fruit. Throughout time, the harsh ways of the world have stolen my fruit and not cared for the land. I see many people suffering and growing in the same way. Their own roots have fallen short from the One who made them. They lack in bearing fruit for this reason and are becoming more and more desolate. Though, a day shall come when my fruit will return. A day will come when people will understand that they have lived so far from the truth, so far from life. I watch, each day, these people walk by me and I hear what they say. Little understanding, have they.”

The tree reminded me of another verse…“He had made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”

I stood there in awe of all that was happening, totally feeling as though there is more to this experience than I could fathom at that moment; but the tree continued with a few last words. It said that I needed to take hold of this moment and treasure it. I must go tell the world that the time is drawing near and that the Maker will return with all of His Angels to carry those who love Him onto new heights. There was one last Word from Scripture that the tree recited to me and it will remain strong in my mind until that day comes, it was from the last Book. In Revelation, where Jesus has told John not to seal up the words of the prophecy of this book, because the time is near; and Jesus said, “Behold, I am coming soon!” and “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.”

With that last line of feeling, I felt nothing more; for the tree had become just a tree in my clutch again. I wondered, as I stood there for the longest time, if this was just a dream. I wondered if anyone else had ever had this same experience, and I just couldn’t gather myself with enough energy to walk away. I sat at the base of the tree for the longest time, watching people pass by and admire it. But as they passed, I realized what the tree was telling me. I could almost see into the souls of each person who passed by and I really understood.

So many are like the tree, a seedling born with weakened roots, searching for nourishment to grow but not knowing where to find it. I remembered that the tree told me to share this knowledge. Now, I just need to find my voice in this lost world. I will devote my time in seeking this nourishment; the only true nourishment to strengthen my roots – as I learn from the counsel of my Savior. And then, I will have found my voice.


So, obviously the photo above was taken by me (Heather) and the boy of four years old was my own little man. The beginning of the story, where my oldest and I were talking about the tree is also very true. I made the remark that this tree needed a story, and on that day…I could feel one building up inside of me. Last night, after I began writing it and set it aside – so much more came to me, I had to write it down with pen in hand for fear of memory’s safe keeping. One Word led to another…and I know that this is beyond me.

The rest of the story carries truth and fiction. I hope it also carried you deeper into that space inside of yourself; a space that needs a little nourishment. Now, it is your turn to seek that nourishment for your soul 🙂

(Scripture References are from the New International Version: Genesis 2:8-9, Ecclesiastes 3:11, and Revelation 22:10,12,13)

PPP-A Boy and His Dog

In Family Pets, My Boy #3, PPP Featured Posts, PPP Prompts, PPS-Poetry-Prose-Stories I've Written on July 19, 2009 at 12:05 pm
I contributed the truth over at Pictures, Poetry & Prose last week. Laura Jayne found the photo of Lucien hugging Gracie as a prompting to write. I couldn’t resist “saying it like it is” and she found it good enough to place as the feature post to accompany the photo (thank you, LJ):

A boy and his dog
A love that will remain forever
Etched in their souls

The day we brought her home, she was just a baby still…as was he. She was three month’s old, he was 18 months (or thereabouts).

He was so scared of her, jumping up onto the couch…this strange bouncy creature invading his safe place…his home.

One day of screeching and hopping up higher than she could climb, that was all it took. The next day, he stepped a sturdy foot onto the floor and gave her a hug. He made her HIS dog, his best friend for life.

If only you could see the two together. There is no other in this house that she respects with a single word, as much as this boy. That is truth. She loves him like no other.

They are best friends to the point that he even thinks of her when we’re away for a few hours. His thoughts become words, “I’m going to hug her up when we get home”.


This is not the photo that she chose, so you’ll have to peek over there to see it. I just had to fit this one in here…again. This was not a pose…well maybe it was but not to my direction :). The two are joined at the heart, I think.


In PPP Prompts, PPS-Poetry-Prose-Stories I've Written on June 19, 2009 at 10:27 am

This one was really fun to write! Over at P.P.P., there is a cute photo of a little white duck, standing at the end of a dock above the water. Here is my contribution:

Sweet Jemima Puddleduck
Found herself with a bit of luck
Waddled down, to and fro
Frills and feathers placed just so
Heart-a-pumping, beating fast
Eagerly hoping to see at last
The little bug holding magic true
Swimming through the waters blue
Shiny bug with all his might
Found her there below the light
Standing on the dock with hope
He scurried up the tiny rope
Touched her beak and then she knew
Jemima Puddleduck now flew
To the other side of town
Searching for a silly clown
What and why’s might fill your head?
Others asked her too, and said:
“Jemima Puddleduck, what for?
This clown has nothing for you in store.”
Quack and waddle, she did not care
Just followed her heart against the stares
The clown reached down to pick her up
There she found that little bug
Again to touch her orange beak
Another part of her did tweak
Jemima Puddleduck had changed
Into a rather gorgeous dame
And to this day, the people stare
They never knew, were unaware
How a little bug with a magic touch
Could change Jemima so darned much
No longer feathers, but hair of gold
And with the clown, she did grow old

PPP-Stony Conversations

In PPP Prompts, PPS-Poetry-Prose-Stories I've Written on June 19, 2009 at 10:24 am

There’s a photo at P.P.P. sharing a pillar of statues. Here is my contribution:

Oh the thoughts that could speak to those people below, if only to be heard…if only to be spoken.

So much has been seen in the eyes of these, statues; so much as to say that they could spin circles in your minds…if only you would be attentive.

Take a look. Do you not think so? Open the ears within your eyes…just listen to them. What are they telling you?

“People, you have the ability to live in freedom but you forsake it. Shall we trade places?”

PPP-The Gathering

In PPP Prompts, PPS-Poetry-Prose-Stories I've Written on June 19, 2009 at 10:19 am

There’s a photo at P.P.P. with a bunch of birds all gathered together in a tree. LJ suggests that they’re waiting for something…so, what were they waiting for?

They waited to see the light come on inside the house.
They waited to hear the door crackle open in the garage.
They waited to feel the tree tremble with his touch.
They waited to taste the seed from the feeder.
They waited, it seemed, for days on end.
They wait no longer, for the light came on and the little old man peeked at them out the window.


In my mom, OMW Prompts, PPS-Poetry-Prose-Stories I've Written on June 17, 2009 at 12:18 pm

The One Minute Writer asks: Tomorrow you get the mail, and in it you find the best letter you can imagine. What does it say?

Mine would say:


Our Father told me that I could send you a love letter to share just a glimpse of my feeling with you from here.

You know where I am, who resides with us here ~ reach into your heart and The Spirit will show you.

It is beyond your fleshly ability to communicate the feelings, the words to describe beauty and love. Much more than I ever could have hoped for while living with you.

Heather, you are loved far more than you know. All that you are aware of now, is magnified to greatness here.

I see your life layed out as a beautiful masterpiece, before me. It is ALL good and perfect, Honey; even in the times that seem hard.

Keep your heart in tune with The Spirit and your chin up, Our Father will remain faithful always.

He Is Love.

With the greatest love; we shall embrace one another again,

Your Mom †

{I just noticed, as I uploaded this photo and looked….there is a smile right there. Do you see it? Complete and total honesty tells you that I did not take this photo because I saw a smiley face. The rocks happen to be there, shaded ever so perfectly for the photo to share a smile from earth with me. That is not coincidence, my friends…NO it is not. This is a BLESSING to my heart.}