Mary's Heartbeats

Stepping up on my footstool, I rummaged through my shelf of purses.  My large quilted bag held my scarves, but now I knew it was time for it to serve a better cause than just being a scarf bag.  Plus, it was brand new, so it would be perfect to give for the donation.  Spreading out all the scarves on my bed, I began folding and sorting them in an orderly manner.  Underneath the pile, I found the "black bonnet" of my Mom, the one she always wore when riding in the car.  It was made of fine thin, net like material, with small gold dots, and had a pearly oval clasp that adjusted to her neck when she put it on.  She never liked to have her hair blown with the windows rolled down in our car.  Nope, she worked hard each day in putting her thick silver/black hair into a french roll, and had it shaped just right around her face, so no matter how hot the car would be, no wind was going to undo her doo!  Year after year, she faithfully wore that bonnet, a...

I hurried to change into my sweats and running shoes.  The evening darkness was quickly shadowing down,  and I didn't want to miss the colors of a cold sun setting.  It had been a wonderful day, I gave Christmas Tea to my neighbors who all lived in the corner of my street.  It was fun to prepare the menu and decorate the house. But my real joy came from our table conversation.  I realized again the value of female relationships.  Women have such endurance and resilience with life, and yet have hear ts that long to be nurtured, heard and understood.  No one is immune to battles, and comfort comes in letting one another into our journeys, even if it is for the brief time of an afternoon tea.  I found myself inspired and energetic, and heading out the door with Goldyn, I felt like I could run forever. . . I didn't think that the plant would really grow.  It had actually been part of a floral arrangement, my former Director of Nursing ...

I'm on my way to visit Mom Ruth this Sunday afternoon.  It's an activity I have done with consistency over this past year.  Since she has become more frail and requires the care of twenty four hour nursing supervision, I have made a point to be there every Sunday.  Now, she readily looks forward to Sunday, because "Mary is coming to see me."  But this is a special day as we are going to celebrate her 95th birthday.  She is surprised as we all are that she is still here to celebrate this day with us.  After all, who would think that a woman who survived treatment for TB in a sanatorium, many years ago, and now deals with dementia, would still be living?  Even she asks that question, as she often tells me that she prays "for Jesus take her home," and often feels that "she is dying right now." Yes, her thoughts get muddled at times, as she tries to still understand God's love for her in spite of her doubts and "not being good enough." ...

Unbelievable!  I stared at the stick of a plant both my eggplant and pepper had become.  What in the world is making a night time meal of their leaves?  I am completely baffled as I search in vain to catch the culprit.  It does not seem to be the roaming possum or even the occasional visiting squirrel, and I know for certain there are no rabbits in our neighborhood.  The only evidence are little circular chomp bites, but can something that small have such a veracious appetite? Is it a worm, a grasshopper or some invisible insect, completely dressed in camouflage?  I feel robbed of my summer produce, even though it appears to have left the vegetable itself for me to have.  Outta words, I decide to pluck up the remnants later . . .  I usually have something to say.  Most times, I have find it necessary to speak, to comment, to intervene, to say something.  But not now, I am as naked as my leafless plants.  I'm outta words. ...

Seriously!  Is this really happening?  The carton was oddly warm, as I poured creamer into my morning coffee.  I peered inside the refrigerator and paused, only to find that most things I inspected were of that same lukewarm cold.  Oh great, I thought, our refrigerator is dying.  But it isn't that old, in fact, I think it was purchased within the past five years.  Could it really be on its last leg? Optimistically hopeful, I tried to open all the vents to generate any cold air inside.  The motor still working, the freezer cold, but the inevitable was presented right in front of me.  Our refrigerator was burning out. . .  Plan B.  I had just gone to the grocery store the night before, so I had limited time for a temporary plan to preserve as much as I could.  Thank goodness, at least the freezer compartment was acting like the  refrigerator so I could put in there as many items as possible that would fit.  I topped off ...

Breathing in the fragrance, I felt a rush of "dejavu".  I was immediately in the backyard garden of our German neighbors, the Gettmans.  Tall rows of the most beautiful big face roses you could ever imagine filled their fenced in yard.  As a five year old, I often accepted the invitation from Mrs. Gettman to come on over and be with her in the garden.  Ready with a smile and a hug for me, we took our time meandering through the bushes, she never hurried me up.  We would smell the various fragrances of the blossoms, and she would tell me the specific name of each. My favorite was the one that started out with a pinkish bud and then unfolded with rosy yellow, white leaves.  Its name is Peace, and to me, a picture of Mrs. Gettman.  But even in all its beauty, the rose still remains as imprisoned splendor.  .  . I saw his name on my schedule, initially thinking that it was familiar, but not fully recalling anything specific.  Hearing my ...

I pedaled up the hill, seeming to have more energy than what I thought I had.  Covered with sweat, I also tasted tears running down my face.  Confession is good for the soul, and I found my heart being purged that morning.  How could I have been so delusional?  A delusion is a false view of reality.  The reality of living as a follower after Jesus is not the same as following after the Christian religion or church.  Although I've known that, I find that my thinking has often subtly been deluded.  I have read certain passages in the Bible with my own self serving interpretation.  But you can't do that as easily with the stories that Jesus told. I don't know where the plant came from, but it seems to be thriving right beside my blueberry bush.  It's hardy and has small white blossoms on it, in fact it seems to be outgrowing the blueberry.  Once its dainty foliage is gone, there are small tiny green balls.  Is it a vegetable or jus...