Words from the Heart

  My girls and Mom many moons ago Many years ago, a very wise person told me to cherish the days of my young motherhood, for, she said, they will go by in a flash.  Sure enough, here I am four daughters and soon-to-be nine grandchildren later!  Where has the time gone?   Holding my grandchildren always reminds me of being a young mother.  I loved mothering!  Being a stay at home mom during the 80's and 90's was like swimming up stream.  Women's Lib was raging around me, but I didn't care.  I was so grateful to be home with my girls, to be the parent on the street that everyone could come to, to be the mom who drove everyone to school events and to be the mom who would stop everything to hold a hand, wipe a tear or make a cup of tea. My own dear Mom once said, "Any child within arm reach is mine until they go."  I had thought her a bit crazy at the time, but after rearing my own girls along with hundreds of others who happened by...

This passage from Ecclesiastes has always been a favorite of mine.  I love the poetry of it, as well as the message. From The Message - Ecclesiastes 3 1 There's an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth: 2-8 A right time for birth and another for death, A right time to plant and another to reap, A right time to kill and another to heal, A right time to destroy and another to construct, A right time to cry and another to laugh, A right time to lament and another to cheer, A right time to make love and another to abstain, A right time to embrace and another to part, A right time to search and another to count your losses, A right time to hold on and another to let go, A right time to rip out and another to mend, A right time to shut up and another to speak up, A right time to love and another to hate, A right time to wage war and another to make peace.  Life is full of seasons, it seems.  Women are very connected to the seasons of life, ev...

Having been brought up Roman Catholic, I can never travel Life's Path on October 31 and November 1 without thinking of all my loved ones who have moved ahead on the Path and entered the next existence. This past year, I have created my own Memorial Altar...a kind of "Day of the Dead" memorial on which I have pictures of my loved ones, some of my brother's ashes and a candle burning. Each time I pass, I pray...prayers of thanksgiving for their being part of my life, prayers for peace of spirit and mind, prayers of love. When I was a child, it was creepy to think of people's spirits hovering close to us after death. As an adult, older and I hope wiser, I take great comfort in this thought. I have felt the presence of my mother and father over the past year during different times when I needed a bit of guidance or when I wished I could share a moment with them. I have felt my brother's spirit lingering at home, finally at peace, with my beloved and I. I ha...

From the first moment I knew I was expecting my first child, I was deeply in love...in love with being pregnant, in love with the life I was carrying close to my heart, in love with mothering. Through the years, there have been those moments when my girls caught my breath, brought a smile to my face or tears to my eyes...tears of joy more often than not. Fortunately, being a "keeper of the story," I have many "Kodak" moments to remind us all of those special times. The following is a photo essay of my girls through the years. Each is a gem; each is unique; and each has grown into a beautiful, talented, wise young woman. I am so proud of each of them! Gwendolyn St. Patrick's Day 1979 - Irish Knits by Nana Neas Gwendolyn and Courtney (or could this be Adelaide and Makayla two years from now??) 1982 Gwendolyn, Courtney and Elizabeth 1983 Kathleen - in her stocking 1984 Kathleen, lover of pockets In Cognito Elizabeth napping with Dozo - He wouldn't move until...

Whether you are five or fifty-five, the death of your mother has a profound affect on you. Whether you had a close, intimate relationship with her or had the relationship from hell, when your mother dies, something in your heart/soul cries out, "No!" ~~~~ Momma loved to shock. Just a few months ago, as we were leaving the nursing home after a visit, she patted the male nurse on the bottom as I wheeled her to the elevator. "Momma!" I cried. She giggled and said, "He didn't even turn around!" I looked back at the nurse and he was simply smiling and shaking his head. As the elevator doors began to close, I said, "Behave, OK?" She gave her most mischievous smile and said, "Not if I can help it!" ~~~~ I must have been about three because Barry was an infant and Momma was pregnant with Timmy. It was one of those summer days that happen every once in a while when the air, the temperature and the weather are perfect. Momma took us for a...

“Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.” – Carl Jung Reflective practice has helped me gain strength during some of life's toughest moments. A writer must develop this art...one cannot write creatively without first listening to the heart. Recently, listening to my heart has led me to some uncharted waters. After months in an untenable situation, I gathered all the advice I had been given, sorted through the different scenarios and then listened to what my heart was telling me. I do not know what might appear over the next horizon, but I do know that in my heart, I have made the best decision for me. So, I wait with anticipation to what might come next in my life. I have my beloved beside me, I am able to share in the lives of my grandbabies and I can always find solace in the written word...it doesn't get much better than that! In the meantime, I will continue to reflect...going within to list...

As a child, the first thing you noticed were the thick, black curls and the sparkling green eyes. My mother called him her "wild Irish rover" because he never stayed in one place for long. It wasn't until he was nearly an adult that the diagnosis of AD/HD was made. Unfortunately, by that point, his life had become a dark, lonely hole from which he could not escape. Through the years, when news of Timmy was less than hopeful, I would often call to mind the image of him as a young, laughing baby of three. There was a picture of him and I and my other brother at the beach. I am struggling to maintain my "cheese" while trying to keep him corraled for the picture. His face is lit with a smile that melted hearts. Last month, after battling lung and heart disease, my brother Timmy, my mother's wild Irish rover, died of a massive coronary at the age of 51. At his funeral, several people mentioned that he looked at peace. I had to agree. The agony of a life battling ...

Molly is the fourth canine to have come into my family. She is a beautiful German shepherd mix with a touch of wolf. Molly is Roger's dog, but she has adopted me, too. She is very protective, watching carefully to make sure I am safe when Roger is not around. But this isn't a Molly story, it's a story about the other furry friends I've had. Dozo, a collie/shepherd mix was my first four-legged friend. I found him in a small cage at the pound. He looked up at me with huge brown eyes when I said, "Hey, boy, you want to go home?" Dozo lived with me and my first husband through the birth of all our daughters. He was so good with the children. They would nap on him and he would not move until they woke up. If I tried to move them, he got upset, sulking under their cribs. When I brought home my youngest daughter, Dozo met me at the door, took one look at the new baby and gave a huge sigh as if to say, "Ok, come on in, another one isn't going to matter....