When I consider the message of Thanksgiving, a lot of words fill my mind and heart for what I wish others to know and feel.
Category: bereavement
Reemergence: Those Sweet Honeybees don’t Know Me
Remember, those sweet honeybees don't know me. A sparkling sassiness has overtaken the sarcasm, which was always a part of my personality. It's an attitude of: "Honey, if you don't like it, there's the door. The beautiful thing about the door is that you can fit through it and I can shut it."
From Out of the Darkness, You will Come
Often, from our darkest spaces, and our most vulnerable moments comes a light we can choose to cast on a small section of the world.
My Daughter’s Hands
One isn't weak because they break from the storm set to take the love you won’t forsake. Harsh words reflect shadows we cannot shake.
Heartbreak at Twilight, a Poem
When you sing at twilight, of whom do you think?
Always
I remember sitting at the breakfast table across from her laundry machine, and I'd watch the sunrise hit the lake as the ducks came near the wooden swing. You'd have to get up early enough because the ducks were gone by mid to late morning.
Gold in the Sunrise
When the first cherry blossoms, I feel her kiss my check.
LEGO: A Love Story, Part I
Throughout these two-and-half years (three years this May) after Corrie earned her wings, and during which John battled stage 3 colon cancer, we've had many stories from Corrie's garden, to Hayes' growth, in education and with us. Another part involves LEGO.
Son, Still We Walk, Still We Rise
I wrote all of this for our son, so he knows there is life after darkness. There is growth after frost. There are people who love, and those who do not.
A Journey Long after the Casseroles are Gone
Never walk alone. I'll be here long after the casseroles are gone.
Corrie's Season 