Welcome winter! The first day of the darkest, coldest season has arrived this very morning. Once again coming right on time, silently, and with a chilly breath. Yet surprisingly, I have been able to still pluck beautiful roses from my garden. How strange that with less sun, less warmth, the bushes seem to have produced even more vivid blooms.
I spent my usual Sunday evening with my Mom Ruth and her closest friend, Happi. Both are age 97 and live in a nursing home center. Every Sunday afternoon, I make a point to visit both of them, and always bring a treat, which usually is a couple of cookies. But yesterday, I took some freshly baked coffee cake and a small bag of truffles. Both of these ladies had been part of my original "Faithful Women's Tea," that I had started in honor of my Mom. But now as age has disabled them, I take my goodies to them.
Age is not always kind, it often cripples, weakens, blinds, and even brings confusion to the mind. But one thing it has no control over is the heart of the soul. It's that heart that still pours out love without measure. I go with the intention of encouraging them and giving them a bit of joy, a change from their usual week of being confined alone in a room or bed. But often, I leave being the recipient of overwhelming gratitude and love. I cannot hold back the tears, as their love seems to spill right out of me.
As I traveled home on the darkened highway, I saw our "Upland Star" lit up on the nearby foothills. Christmas lights made zig zag lines across the heights, and I wondered what life will be for me at age 97. Will I still retain an attitude of gratitude and joy? Will I have someone come and visit me when I am so alone?
Age is like today. Winter always comes, you cannot fend off the season. Age can leave me cold and hardened, or it can become me like the the beauty and fragrance of my December roses. Silently those roses grow and bloom, and the enjoyment of them is up to me. I must pick the blossom and pause to breathe in the scent, and I am never disappointed with the outcome. I've never had a stinky rose!
So winter, welcome. No need to fear you or fight you off. Rather, let me come rejoicing and grateful as I walk into your brisk embrace, knowing that Your Designer, has lovingly planned this time, this age, this day for me . . .
I spent my usual Sunday evening with my Mom Ruth and her closest friend, Happi. Both are age 97 and live in a nursing home center. Every Sunday afternoon, I make a point to visit both of them, and always bring a treat, which usually is a couple of cookies. But yesterday, I took some freshly baked coffee cake and a small bag of truffles. Both of these ladies had been part of my original "Faithful Women's Tea," that I had started in honor of my Mom. But now as age has disabled them, I take my goodies to them.
Age is not always kind, it often cripples, weakens, blinds, and even brings confusion to the mind. But one thing it has no control over is the heart of the soul. It's that heart that still pours out love without measure. I go with the intention of encouraging them and giving them a bit of joy, a change from their usual week of being confined alone in a room or bed. But often, I leave being the recipient of overwhelming gratitude and love. I cannot hold back the tears, as their love seems to spill right out of me.
As I traveled home on the darkened highway, I saw our "Upland Star" lit up on the nearby foothills. Christmas lights made zig zag lines across the heights, and I wondered what life will be for me at age 97. Will I still retain an attitude of gratitude and joy? Will I have someone come and visit me when I am so alone?
Age is like today. Winter always comes, you cannot fend off the season. Age can leave me cold and hardened, or it can become me like the the beauty and fragrance of my December roses. Silently those roses grow and bloom, and the enjoyment of them is up to me. I must pick the blossom and pause to breathe in the scent, and I am never disappointed with the outcome. I've never had a stinky rose!
So winter, welcome. No need to fear you or fight you off. Rather, let me come rejoicing and grateful as I walk into your brisk embrace, knowing that Your Designer, has lovingly planned this time, this age, this day for me . . .
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