Words from the Heart

Easter is upon us and as families around me prepare for this holy of holy days, my thoughts are lingering in the past. Now that my daughters are grown with families of their own, there are some things about Easter that I truly miss . I know that it may seem crazy, but I miss the joy of creating special outfits for them each year. Most of the time, I made their dresses, trying to pick just the right color fabric for their individual personality rather than dressing them identically. In addition, I would immerse myself in the pattern books, searching for something that could be individualized with different collars, different sleeves, or different trim.  I even enjoyed recreating their Easter bonnets each year to match their new outfits. Another task I miss greatly is picking out flowers to bring or send to my mother.  Momma almost always got hyacinths from us, but every so often we would find tulips or daffodils that were so unique that we just had to get those, i...

Photo Credit: by Sergiu Bacioiu via Wikimedia Common s Often, I have thought and written about the power of words as well as the power of one person to make a difference ... to change things.  The image of the ripple effect is used to show how Grace can touch one, then, radiate out to touch the multitudes.   This week, I want to share a story and a poem.  The story was sent to me by my daughter, who is now nurturing daughters of her own. Together with her sisters, we have had many discussions on the recent trend to dress little girls (as young as infants!) in clothes that are totally, to us, inappropriate.  Don't get me wrong, I am not a prude, but seeing an infant in a black sequined diva dress, to me, sends the wrong message, as do the tight short shorts and skimpy tops for seven and eight year old girls. So, the following article was proof that even the little girls know that they are being exploited! ( Click here to go to the article. ) Next up is...

One of my blogging buddies, Melissa Ann Goodwin, author of The Christmas Village , wrote about packing up her Mom's China teacups.  I immediately resonated with her post.  (Click on her name to go visit her blog.) I, too, had a Mom who had teacups and felt they were special. My Mom died two years ago, but I still long for her.  Often, when I see the teacups, I remember times we shared together, with family and later with my girls. When I bought my home, several years ago, Roger surprised me with a built in display for my teacups.  Many of them are Momma's, a few are my grandmother's, the rest have been given to me over the years by people who knew I loved teacups. One of my fondest memories is getting tea when I was sick.  Momma would serve it in one of her precious China teacups with the saucer.  We didn't have much growing up and as a child I was quite ill with various childhood diseases.  Perhaps, it was because of this, or because I wa...

Nanilin and All Her Girls and Boys Motherhood is the ultimate when it comes to creating.  The miracle of cell division into a human being is mind-boggling!  It seemed fit to end our month long look at creativity with a post on mothering. Today, we celebrate the birthday of my oldest daughter.  She has the sole distinction of being the one through which I became known as Momma, or Ma, or Moooommmm, depending on the mood of the child speaking. It is difficult for me to grasp that she is a thirty-something adult with two children of her own.  Often when I think of her, I picture in my mind the little girl with a pixie cut trying to grapple with little sisters.  I have to remind myself that some of my friends are the same age as she is.  How did that happen? Being a mother calls a woman into creativity whether she realizes it or not.  (Let me state that the term "mother" is about both those who give birth and those who take a child into their heart ...

Image by paul+photos=moody via Flickr It is day two of the New Year.  I am up before the sun on a gray winter's morn doing a bit of self-reflection on the past year.  As an optimist, my reflection is all about counting my blessings; however, I also want to take stock of what didn't work this year. The highlights of the past year have been many. My daughter, Kathleen was married. My daughters, Gwendolyn and Courtney each gave birth, adding to our ever-growing family. My daughter, Elizabeth moved back to New England. Many friends and family visited the Enchanted Cottage. My second book, Gogo's Dream: Swaziland Discovered was published. I reconnected with several old friends via the internet. My quest to become a minister of peace and justice through interfaith dialogue has moved forward. Just a few of the things that have not worked for me include, being unemployed, being sick, and not being able to exercise.   As we enter 2011, I am determined to continue my s...

As many of my readers already know, my love for poetry came by way of my Momma, who often times recited and sometimes read poems to me from the time I was very little. It was her passion that lit the flame for my passion. It was a gift we shared right up until her recent death. April is National Poetry Month . When I first learned this, several years ago, I thought it was so appropriate. Momma's birthday was April 21. This year, the celebration of Poetry Month will be even more bittersweet. Throughout the month, I will be posting poems, resources, interviews and links for parents and teachers to use. If just one person finds something beautiful, profound, inspiring, healing or delightful in the post this month, I will have honored Momma is a way that is more than meaningful. So, without further delay, let us start the P-A-R-T-Y!!! ~~~~~~ Several years ago while studying for my graduate degree, I created a wiki for poetry - specifically, international poetry. (" A wiki ...

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...