Category Archives: Uncategorized

Faith in Those Little Things

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Whispers in the silent night

Tender touches by starlight

Words unsaid in angry voice

Actions fulfilled by free choice

Love’s strong arms held open wide

Know that God walks stride by stride

Watches like a parent proud

Mistakes expected: allowed

Understanding, patient, kind

Always there for us to find

Calls our names in winters wild

In spring, He gifts breezes mild

Summer’s heat sends us outside

God’s gifts in flowers abide

Rains remind of deep pain felt

Tragic death, deftly dealt

All these things, of faith speak

Comfort to all those who seek

God’s good grace, offered free

Sin’s release, for you and me

Faith defined in little things

Given by the King of kings

After I Pass On

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            We attended a family gathering over Thanksgiving to honor the life of a member who recently passed. Over thirty people came, all family or adopted family. The overall tenor was calm, relaxed, gentle, peaceful. A few tempers arose but were quickly settled.

            There was food to share, games to play, a slide show to watch and caroling. My grandkids entertained us playing Christmas songs, not all in tune. It made no difference as they were sharing.

             Mass was held during which the chorister invited two of my grandchildren, one playing the viola, the other the trumpet, to accompany him. I got to sing as well as another of my grandchildren.

            The mood was solemn, respectful as we sat out on the deck in 69 degree temperatures! Much warmer than at home.

            At the conclusion of the service, my SIL invited everyone to share a good memory they had of her husband. The comments ranged from teaching kids to be safe on the water, his enthusiasm for nature, and his love of his wife. I shared that his ability to recall and discuss practically everything he read, was amazing.

            When my turn comes, I might like something similar. A gathering of friends and family who come together to share food, games, music and stories. A Mass would be center. And I’d love it if some of my choir members would sing my favorite church hymns.

            I don’t want anything huge or ornate. A simple ceremony would suffice.

I’m not planning on leaving soon. I wouldn’t have undergone surgery if I expected to die right away. But you never know. A bus could ram into my car on the way to the gym. A sudden stroke could fell me in my sleep (I like the idea of dying in my sleep!)

That doesn’t mean that I can’t think about how I’d like the gathering to be. The one I just attended would be a great beginning.

How would you like to be memorialized?

Roses

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Explore with me the rows and rows of roses.

Their faces turned toward the sun

Blossoms so tiny you could cradle the entire

Bush in the palm of your hand.

Others the size of dinner plates,

So heavy the stalks bend,

Turning their centers toward the ground.

Life-giving ground.

Nutrients galore.

Water drawn out of hidden wells.

Come with me to visit the roses

The shy ones, colors so feint it’s hard to

Distinguish where one ends and the next begins.

The vibrant ones

That scream, look at me, look at me,

And you do.

They have wonderful stories,

The ancient ones, the ones whose roots

Go back millennium.

I want to sit at their feet and listen.

Listen to tales of woe, of joy,

Of growth, of success

Allow them to fill my soul with joy.

An ever-abundant happiness

That will last for weeks, months, years.

They aren’t modest at all.

They flash their colors to the world

Inviting all to stop, stare, breathe in their heady scent.

Roses follow the sun. Opening at dawn,

Closing at sunset, rejoicing during the day.

I want to emulate them. Perhaps I do.

***Please note that this was inspired by a writing prompt during a workshop zoom meeting. After sharing it with my group, several members thought I should send it to the author.  I found her author page and submitted it. I have not received a response.

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Dear Judy Blume:

            Thanks for all the wonderful stories that you’ve written for young people. You put into words their thoughts and fears, their worries as well as things they celebrate.

            Your characters are fully-formed, making them realistic representations of children that age.

            I’m sorry that some find your topics threatening and so have organized book bans, pulling your work off library shelves.

            I wonder what that feels like? To have poured heart and soul into writing, hoping it reaches your intended audience, receiving accolades for your work, then suddenly finding yourself as a “hared” author. It must be disheartening.

            We can hope that as time passes, saner individuals will restore your stories to their rightful spots on shelves. That once again young people, especially girls, will see themselves reflected in your work, reflected in your characters.

            Thanks for giving the world topics that are timely, meaningful and accessible to a wide variety of readers.

Questions and Considerations

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Does breath crystalize and fertilize the earth?

Is the soul really tender, breakable?

Or is it strong, strong like iron,

Able to withstand hurt?

Why do lambs cry all the time?

Why do they need the company of others

More than life itself?

Why aren’t humans like them?

Why do we move through life

Cherishing independence, reveling in the ability

To stand on one’s own two feet

Without once, just once, needing

The help of others?

Why do white swans choose the company of other white swans?

Shouldn’t a black one be equally attractive?

Or perhaps more so because of its difference?

Or is there something inside that moves one to select

Ones like itself?

What does that mean for humans?

If anything?

Why do hummingbirds’ wings beat so fast?

Is it out of fear?

Self-reliance?

Or simply because that’s the way things are meant to be?

Why do bears hibernate?

Is it the call of winter?

Something in the air tells them to hunker up,

To settle down before snows fall?

Or is it a need for deep sleep?

Why don’t people do the same?

Close windows and doors

Pull up the comforters

Turn up the heater

Stock up the cabinets

And not go outside for months?

Is it because bears are comfortable in their hides

While people need to lean on others?

People must feel, touch, hold

Cherish, react, love

While bears intrinsically know

That they are okay.

What about stones, tiny and large

Who sit alone along paths.

Do they feel alone?

Do they yearn for the weight of their kind?

Do they fear floating off into space

Unless something grounds them?

While butterflies flight about,

Seemingly without care or direction

Here, there, everywhere on a whim

Lighter than air

Stronger than a breeze

Able to withstand storms

That might send stones tumbling downhill.

So many unanswered questions

So many unanswerable questions

That change nothing

That influence nothing

Not even the beating of my heart.

Alternate Kingdoms

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Consider, no acknowledge,

That there are alternate kingdoms.

The planets come to mind.

Swirling masses of rack and glass

Floating around us

None have been identified as hosting life

Yet there could be

Could have been

Creatures crawling, flying, digging

Multiplying, colonizing

Creating kingdoms of their own

Wriggling in the waters swirling

Below in lakes and streams and creeks

A variety of beings build homes

Reproduce

Celebrating love and life and family

Much as humans do,

But in their words, their thoughts,

Their beliefs.

Flowers and bushes and trees

Send their spores into the void

Populating unoccupied spaces

With vibrant hues of greens, browns,

Reds, ochres

Which then become homes for others

Usually not by choice,

But needed, necessary to foster

New lives, new families, new clusters.

Creeping, crawling, walking, stomping

Through it all are beings with legs

Or no legs

Wings or no wings

Breathing air, inhaling pollutants

That humans have created,

Thinking only of themselves

Their needs, their desires,

Of only what they perceive their lives should be

The world, the kingdom, expands and contracts,

Breathing its own rhythm

Pulsing life-giving blood and fluids

Across the lands, skies, waters

Sharing common space without consideration

For impact, for change, for unwanted influence

On other lives

On other kingdoms

Heart Pain

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Her life with us was short,

Only three years

Her golden years.

She followed us around,

Slept on our laps,

Begged for food and love.

But she hurt.

Day and night she cried

In pain.

So hard to hear,

Knowing there was nothing I could do

Except love her and comfort her.

A time comes to say goodbye.

Unfortunately I wasn’t prepared.

Not after only three years!

She was twelve when we adopted her,

Already a senior cat.

But, oh so sweet!

Kind. Patient. Loving.

Fun to watch when the zoomies

Sent her flying all over the house.

Demanding when she expected food.

Loved her treats!

Noon every day we had to give her something special.

It’s just been minutes,

But already the house feels empty.

My heart will heal.

I will adopt another senior cat.

But until then, I will mourn.

Goodbye, Bingo!

The Ups and Downs of Gift Giving (AI generated as an example)

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Looking at Why We Give Presents—and What Can Go Wrong

Introduction

Gift giving is something pretty much everyone does, no matter where you’re from. Whether it’s for birthdays, holidays, or just because, giving and getting presents is a part of life. It usually makes people happy and brings us closer together, but sometimes it can get a little complicated. Let’s take a look at the good sides and the not-so-great parts of giving gifts.

Pros of Gift Giving

  • Makes Relationships Stronger

Giving someone a present is a simple way to show you care. It can help build stronger bonds and make people feel loved or appreciated. Whether it’s family, friends, or coworkers, a thoughtful gift can go a long way in making your connection even better.

  • Spreads Kindness and Gratitude

Handing out gifts encourages people to be generous and thankful. It feels good to give, and it feels good to be given something nice. A well-chosen gift can make someone’s day and even help you feel happier too.

  • Cultural Traditions

A lot of cultures have special traditions for gift giving—think Christmas, weddings, or big life events. These moments bring people together and help everyone feel connected to their community.

  • Makes You Think About Others

Picking out a gift (when you’re not rushing) means you have to think about what the person actually likes or needs. It’s a great way to practice being thoughtful and pay attention to what’s going on in other people’s lives.

Cons of Gift Giving

  • Can Hit Your Wallet Hard

Let’s face it—gifts can get expensive. Big holidays or special events sometimes make people feel like they have to buy fancy stuff they can’t really afford. This can lead to stress or even spending money you shouldn’t.

  • Misunderstandings Happen

Sometimes your gift doesn’t quite land. Maybe you guessed wrong about what someone wanted, or maybe they just don’t like surprises. The wrong gift can make things awkward or even upset someone.

  • The Pressure to Give

There are times when people give gifts because it’s expected, not because they genuinely want to. Feeling like you “have to” can take away the fun and make the whole thing feel less special.

  • Not Always Eco-Friendly

All the wrapping paper, bags, and packaging that comes with gifts can create a lot of trash. Plus, buying and shipping stuff takes energy and resources, which isn’t always great for the planet.

Conclusion

Gift giving is a tradition that can make life sweeter and relationships more meaningful. But it’s not always sunshine and rainbows—sometimes it’s stressful, expensive, or even a little wasteful. The best gifts are the ones given with real thought and care, not just because you feel like you have to. So next time you’re wrapping something up, remember: it’s the kindness behind the gift that really counts.

**All in all, this is not an awful essay. It was completely generated by AI,so I make no claim as to authorship.

This was an experiment. I used to teach high school students with learning disabilities. Using AI, they can now generate reports acceptable in their classes. Unfortunately, I takes no effort from them and most likely doesn’t use words or phrases they normally include in their work.

A Conversation with my Cat

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I haven’t sat down with her and discussed her life.

I wonder where she was before she came to live with us.

Was her owner kind?

Did she feed the cat her favorite food?

Brush her fur?

Take her to the vet?

Bingo talks all the time.

She complains about food she doesn’t like.

She meows when she wants more than what we give her.

She yodels after pooping…is that her pride coming out?

Bingo’s vocabulary isn’t one I know or could master in a college class.

Nevertheless, I think I know what she’s saying.

Bingo, despite her age, can still leap onto kitchen counters

Squeeze into tiny places

Sleep on top of the oven or curled up inside the fruit bowl.

We couldn’t find her one day. Searched all her usual spots.

Found her in the coat closet, behind the vacuum cleaner.

Bingo must not have liked that hiding place, as she has never gone back there.

I like when she gets close enough that I can rub the top of her head.

Scratch under her chin. Run my hands down her back,

Even though feeling her spine worries me.

Bingo just turned fifteen.

How much longer will we have her?

She appears healthy, but we know that her kidneys are impacted.

Her teeth are badly in need of brushing,

But to do so, she’d have to be put under.

That’s too risky at her age.

Sometimes Bingo takes a stroll in front of my computer.

She’ll stand blocking my view of the monitor.

Or sit on the keyboard.

Or in my lap.

Making it impossible for me to work.

But I don’t care because she makes me smile.

Her purr warms my heart, makes me feel needed.

There’s something special about a cat’s love.

They take more than they give.

They offer tidbits of acceptance,

But we gush over them, brag about them,

Share photos of them, tell stories about them

As if they are our kids.

They are, in a way.

A Halloween Memory

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            The only part of Halloween that I ever liked was the endless pursuit of free candy. From the time my brother and I were in middle school in rural Ohio, we roamed miles from home. We walked on streets whose names I never knew, knocking on the doors of anyone with lights still on. It took us hours, and at times our pillow case sacks were so heavy that we had no option but to go home, empty them out, then head out again.

            I hated wearing costumes. Perhaps because I wore glasses, masks blocked my sight. I detested makeup and most of all, despised trying to come up with something to wear that could become a costume. My fallback was that of a hobo as all I had to do to play the part was put on my well-worn overalls.

            When I was thirteen my middle school decided that for Halloween, all students had to dress in costume. I immediately panicked. It was bad enough to traverse my neighborhood under cover of darkness, but now I would have to parade about campus under the horrific glare of fluorescent lights.

            I stewed over this for days.

I was a painfully shy, the girl who never raised her hand to ask or answer questions. I slithered down in my desk seat, my nose skimming the top of my desk, believing that if I couldn’t see the teacher, she couldn’t see me.

Dressing up at school had the potential to sink me even lower on the social scale, especially if I appeared in an unpopular or outmoded costume.

            When the day arrived, the only thing I could come up with was my mother’s WAC (Women’s Army Corp) uniform from World War II. It fit a bit snug, but I figured I could tolerate anything for the length of the festivities.

            In the morning I squeezed into the uniform, then trudged off to the bus stop. I was used to belittling looks, so the shrugs and smirks had little impact.

However, what seemed like a good idea in the morning, quickly became a terrifying experience at school.

            My teacher, thrilled to see the old uniform, made me stand in front of the class and share my mother’s story. Unfortunately, I knew little about her service.

I did know that she enlisted because her family was poor. She chose the WACs because her older brother was in the Army. Because of the few black-and-white photos she shared, she was stationed in Florida where she learned to work on trucks.

            I figured that when my presentation time was done, I could return to my desk. Not so. My teacher was so excited about the old uniform that she sent me up and down the hall, into every single classroom, upstairs and down.

I was so terrified that I squeaked out only a few words and wouldn’t have even got them out if it weren’t for the prompting of every teacher, in every classroom.

As the day progressed, the uniform got tighter, And the heavy wool brought out as much sweat as a humid summer day. Perspiration pooled under my arms and down my face. It soaked the collar and the waistband of the skirt.

When lunch came, I was allowed to change clothes.

            It was such a horrible experience that I did not go out trick-or-treating that night and for several years after.