Laughter and tears,
one friend to another
we bonded in love
and blossomed
in the garden of life.
I miss you, heart sister.
Thanks for the memories
In Memory of Kathy Allen
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No resolutions for 2023. If the past three years have taught us anything, it’s that nothing is certain. The joy of today can be quashed in a heartbeat by unanticipated, sometimes horrific reality. No, I have not abandoned my faith and Pollyanna approach to life; like you, I’ve just seen one reality-check after another in these days of Covid, inflation, RSV, flu, insane politics, wars everywhere, travel meltdowns, homelessness in ever-increasing numbers, devastating natural disasters… GASP! GASP! GASP!
What we have also seen is the generosity of one human toward another. Strength beyond imagining in people who lost homes and livelihood to fires and flood and war and more, people who, despite their own challenges, stepped in to help neighbors. We are not past the impact of devastation. Therein lies a whole other hill to climb and hopefully overcome. In the case of the Calf Canyon/Hermit’s Peak fire and subsequent flood, will insurance provide the means by which loss can be recovered? How or will FEMA help or hinder? What resources are available to get reliable answers?
The onslaught of lawyers promising the moon is mind-boggling! I’m not sure lawyers are the answer. Here is the link to FEMA if you don’t already have it: https://www.fema.gov/disaster/current/hermits-peak.
Click below to open a two-page brochure with helpful information. The timeline extends into April 2023.
Below is my end-of-the-year poem. It is intended to be hopeful and maybe a wee bit helpful as we head into 2023. And really, when you think about it, January 1 is just another day. Be at peace with yourself and others, day by day.
NEW YEAR’S EVE 2022
There is reality in today,
hope in tomorrow.
Lean into the promise,
rest in the certainty
we live one day at a time
as best we can.
Let that be enough.
Some days will be wonderful,
some make us wonder –
how will I survive and thrive?
May the darkness of doubt
flee before the rising sun of hope
always on the horizon.
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Blue is the color
of sadness.
When the world seems
gilded with
a happy golden glow,
some grieve
others founder
on the shoals of loneliness.
Tragedy does not
take a holiday.
Take heart,
there is hope.
Someone cares.
That is the story
of the manger.
Unless otherwise indicated, all content on this site is created by me. I appreciate likes, shares, and comments.
Bella is about to go on the trip of a lifetime. No, it does not involve planes, trains, or automobiles, but it may involve a horse, an odd little cart, and a weird bird, among other surprises.
Oh, and a bit of magic.
While going through old things in the attic of the family home, Bella finds – and oh, my! – falls into another time and place, where she learns that perhaps she can be more than the quiet little sister and the shy student, easy prey for a school bully.
In this magical place she meets ancestors, beings of legend and lore, Death, and most important, she meets herself and learns her potential. And she learns perhaps the most important lesson of all: to be remembered is a blessing; to be olvidado, forgotten, is to let one’s culture and language slip away.
She meets fore bearers she never knew, or scarcely knew in their lifetimes. At nearly 15, coming into the family late in her parents’ marriage, she sees no connection to her past. Nor does she see the threads that bind her family together, feeling too often the outsider.
The legendary characters she meets on her journey teach her the importance of retaining a connection to the cuentos, the stories, that are the backdrop of her culture, the art, music, and literature that frame who she is.
In the land of yesterday she encounters beings – human and fantastical – who by turns protect her, teach her, and caution her to remember their cuentos and share them with a careless society that has forgotten their value.
Dwarves and giants, witches and snakes, tricksters and Death herself leave a lasting mark on Bella. Reading the story of her journey is charming, yes, but it is also a cautionary tale about remembering and sharing one’s culture and language, not as an afterthought, but as a vibrant part of life.
Bella Collector of Cuentos is a tale told by those who do not want to be forgotten. It is also a magical tale about a girl coming into her own.
Brown and gold,
orange and yellow,
signs of fall,
oh, so mellow.
In the pot
beside the door,
petunias flutter
a magenta roar.
With gladsome flaring
these floral sisters
accent with daring
whimseys of change.
Unless otherwise indicated, all content on this site is created by me. I appreciate likes, shares, and comments.
Time,
we believe
we have so much
when in truth
time spools out
like thread
on a spindle
weaving together
with other threads
creating a tapestry.
Your thread,
my thread,
can break
at any time.
I pray to consider carefully
the choices I make,
the actions I take
so the thread
from my spool
adds goodness to
the tapestry of life
before it breaks.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Unless otherwise indicated, all content on this site is created by me. I appreciate likes, shares, and comments.
Unless otherwise indicated, all content on this site is created by me. I appreciate likes, shares, and comments.
Someone with knowledge
could save this wreck of a tree,
planted back when water
seemed limitless
and rain fell
with some regularity.
This old Russian Olive
remains stubbornly productive,
giving off leaves and shoots and
and anemic branches.
Still, it is beautiful
in the way resilient
things are.
Defiant, the tree
makes its imprint on Father sky,
an ‘I’m not done yet’ statement,
that encourages me
to say the same.
It is clear there is more to covid than scientists realized with its evolving variants. Now we have something called Monkeypox, which somehow indicates it comes from contact with monkeys. And it does, sort of. To be better informed about Monkeypox, check out this article from the Pennsylvania Department of Health.
I am not going to embark on a discourse about viruses and their dangers/impact on society. What I want to ramble on about is uncertainties we all face and how we are changed for better or worse by circumstances beyond our control.
In the recent fires in our area, we were evacuated for eight days from our home. Not because the house and property were in danger, but because the air quality was so dense, we could scarcely breath. And we didn’t know our house would be unharmed, especially when we looked to the hills behind the house and saw great plumes of grey smoke and flames leaping in blended slashes of orange and red and yellow heat.
We’re weeks past the declaration of containment and we should feel at ease, but we don’t. We know many people displaced by loss who are further devastated by flooding that takes destruction to a new level.
And it’s not these destructive fires and floods that weigh on us. It’s the unsettling mountains of shifting dialog about where to go for help and whether or how much help will be available. In the middle and immediately following the fires, the outpouring of love and support were beautifully staggering. Food. Hot meals. A place to stay. Clothing. Resources galore. As time has marched on, the tragedy of many has been left behind. The kindness remains but it is woefully disconnected from the specific needs of those most impacted by the devastation.
The thing is, we have all been hit with multiple tragedies: covid, the deaths of loved ones, illness, a senseless and devastating war in Ukraine, people at our borders struggling and suffering, Monkeypox for crying out loud, violence at every turn, mass shootings, an insensitive and cruel political environment, global warming/climate change… I could go on, and so could you. In a recent sermon, Pastor Katie Palmer likened it to Russian stacking dolls. See a summary here. We are individually at the core of layers and layers of influences over which we have no control, but they affect us in unimaginable ways. No wonder we’re edgy.
The other side of that are the acts of generosity and neighbor helping neighbor, strangers stepping up to help, a community taking in those in need, powerful acts of kindness unselfishly given.
One thing we can agree on: thanks to firefighters and first responders the response to the Hermit’s Peak-Calf Canyon fire was phenomenal and kept a horrific situation from being worse. The community took them in as well.
Personal loss is just that – personal. Typically, most of us have a support network to see us through dark times. Where do we go when so much in the world seems to be so wrong?
It may sound simplistic, but live as best you can. Help in the ways you can. Go to the polls come election time and vote.
She stands
in the middle
of a war-torn street,
Ukrainian flag in hand,
angel wings over her
puffy coat,
donned for warmth,
no protection against
bullets and bombs.
I weep for her innocence
and pray for her protection.
And an end
to senseless war.
Sharon Vander Meer 
