Category Archives: Personal stories

Stories that come to mind from earlier in my life..

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The Aging Switch

Quality, yes quality,
Each day, each year,
Value of life and loves.
Becoming, yes becoming.

Doing, doing, done.
Living and ever loving
Each day, each year.
Feeling good, being good?

Getting this and that,
Upsizing house,
Even the car,
Or maybe a spouse.

Years upon years,
Even the many decades
Passing by swiftly
Sometimes unnoticed.

An ache and a pain
Could be chronic,
An Illness today, maybe tomorrow.
Plans change again.

Downsizing living,
Giving this and that.
Big things, old things,
Even new stuff.

Giving to my kids,
Selling to others,
Taking just a little,
Just what’s needed today.

Active living, but…
Less, doing less.
More doctors and dentists
Often, more often.

Months upon months
Passing by fast and faster,
I’m moving slower, then slower,
But time moves still faster!

Eat, nap, eat, discovered
Becoming my daily pattern.
So nice, but tired still.
Why is the night longer now?

Imbalance and stagger enters.
My new world changing.
Steps are shorter and slower
Taking longer from here to there

Watching, sitting and reading.
What did you say? Hmm mm
Huh? Please say that again.
Hearing, like agility, disappearing

Frustration unlimited!
Forgetting little things
Progressing to bigger
What did I come in here for

Quality living lesser
Than yesterday again.
Good becoming less.
All becoming lesser.

The end is in sight,
But not in reach.
My aging switch has turned.
Turned to waiting, not doing

Now it begins anew.
When, just when?
Waiting and waiting … still
Impatiently patient.

Days upon months,
Weeks upon years, when?
Waiting still, now impatient
Questioning the why and when.

HE has control of how and when.
My days are fewer in number,
But I wish, at times, many times
I had that control.

Yes, I have switched
From doing to waiting.
The veil between becoming thinner.
Waiting, just waiting … Still.

I have seen the loved ones
Passed over yesteryear and more recently,
Waving or beaconing, I wonder?
Yes, I have switched to impatiently waiting.

Originally created:   July 7, 2016
 

Beginnings


The beginning.

You become.

You are.

You will be.

You will no longer be.

Go back to the beginning!
Originally written: May 4, 2016

My ponderings:  

It seems getting old provides time to think.  I wasn’t even sitting in a rocking chair. I wasn’t watching a beautiful sunrise. I did not listen to the whispering of the breeze through the trees.  I was going about daily life thinking about paying bills, my next meal, and when do I need to take my next pills.  These words came to mind interrupting productive efforts.  I could not get them out of my mind.  As I thought of the simplicity of the phrases, I began to ponder life and it’s phases. I thought I would share them. 

Journeys End

The end of a Journey is within sight.

The end of a Journey is within sight.

Thank you Ageless One.
My wrinkles, scars, and bruises,
They demonstrate your generosity,
Your gift of longevity.

Thank you Rising Son.
Not as a complaint, but a deep sigh
For the aches and pains of old muscles and bones
They are a gift of a new day.

Thank you Heavenly Father,
Each wheezing breath is a prayer
For clarity of mind and heart.
They bow in reverence.

Thank you Gentle Loving Spirit
For my many faults and weaknesses,
And so I feel slovenly unworthy,
But still you pour out your bountiful graces.

Within your embrace I face the daily toils,
Overcoming the challenges of bigotry,
Sharing the smiles and cheerfulness with others
With an attitude of simple humbleness.

Thank you Infinity Personified,
So many memories and experiences,
Are at my beck and call.
More precisely during my frequent naps.

Thank you Grace Embodiment,
Each day is in itself a blessing.
I mightily struggle with my infirmities,
Blessed by each graceless fumbling bumbling  step.

Thank you Heavenly Gate Keeper
For holding the door slightly ajar.
My slow gait has dictated this pace.
Patience I have had to learn and relearn.

Thank you Everlasting Peace
I am coming, though staggeringly
Yes, I am coming, are you waiting?
I am anxiously anticipating my journeys end.

I am committed to You, My Lord.
With love and forgiveness your guarantee
My days, hours, and even minutes are known to you,
I stumble along my path with confidence.

Originally written: March 19, 2015

The poem was written over a period of several months.
It is a reflection on my life and growing old and
the changes that occur naturally.  It also acknowledges
the thoughts I have heard from others who have
and are on this journey.

I publish it in recognition of World Poetry Day March 21, 2015.

I Am Going Home

A New Beginning!

A New Beginning!

I Am Going Home
Oh Heavenly Father,
Come for me today.
To be home for Christmas.

The earthly toils and tribulations
Have worn my body and spirit down
Come Holy Spirit.

Our long, long suffering is
Torturing the innocents
Surrounding and supporting us.

My body and mind
Yearn for the loving
And peaceful joy
Of being in your presence.

This is the season of Advent
A time of expecting
A time of preparing.

I am prepared.
We are prepared,
Now is my Advent season

I await the miracle
Of my new birth
My new beginning

Free of suffering
Singing with your angels
The glorious songs of old.

Announcing the arrival
Of The Child
And of the new arrivals.

Come Holy Spirit
I await your pleasure
Impatiently, I await

Come Holy Spirit.
Take me home.

Originally written: December 18, 2012

This was written for my cousin, Bill Mehringer, at the request
of his wife Deb. Bill is in hospice as this poem was written.
We love and support Bill and Deb in this long struggle. Bill
got his miracle just a couple hours after Deb read this poem
to him. Bill’s wait is over and he has his beautiful wings.

Embroidery of Life

A pink Rhodochrosite caboshon wirewrapped and dedicated to the memory of Auntie Rose Emmons

We were at a celebration of a long time friend who was retiring after 37 years.
We were in San Jose, CA at the Bella Mia Italian Restaurant. There were just
six of us. Steve and his wife Sue, Monica and Bret, and ZoAnn and I. Steve,
Monica, and ZoAnn taught third grade together in Morgan Hill Unified School
District for many years. They had formed a strong bond of fellowship and
friendship during those critical times. It was one of those special moments in
life when people share their memories with treasured stories of those “Camelot
Moments” in life.

One of the stories was a big surprise. Steve passed around to each of us a
sheet of paper with a story I had shared years before. It was a story from
my Aunt Rose Emmons. The following is the story Steve called Embroidery
of Life.

When I was little, my mother used to sew a great deal. I would sit at
her knee and look up from the floor and ask what she was doing. She
informed me that she was embroidering. As from the underside I watched
her work within the boundaries of the little round hoop that she held in her
hand, I complained to her that it sure looked messy from where I sat.

She would smile at me, lookd down and gently say, ” Child you go about
your playing for a while, and when I am finished with my embroidering
I will put you on my knee and let you see the front side.”

I would wonder why she was using some dark threads along with some
bright ones and why they seemed so jumbled from my view. A few
moments would pass and then I would hear Mother’s voice say, “Child,
come and sit on my knee.”

This I did only to be surprised and thrilled to see a beautiful flower, or a
sunset. I could not believe it, because from underneath it looked so messy.
Then my Mother would say to me, ” My child, from underneath it did look
messy and jumbled, but you did not realize there was a plan on the top.
It was a design. I was only following it. Now look at it from my side, and
you will see what I was doing.

Many times through the years I have looked up to heaven and said,
“Father, what are You doing?” He has answered, “I am embroidering
your life.” I say, “But it looks like a mess to me. It seems so jumbled. The
threads seem so dark. Why can’t they all be bright?” The father seems to
tell me, “My child, you go about your business of doing MY business, and
one day I will bring you to heaven and put you on my knee and you will see
the plan from My side.”

It is strange how a story of my Aunt Rose Emmons came back to me from a
dear friend at his retirement celebration. Steve had remembered the story
and typed it up to be shared with us many years later. I was amazed and
very proud of my Aunt. The story has taken on a life of it’s own.

A subtext to this story is that I have seen my Grandmother Mary Brinkman
crochet and embroider using the same hoops mentioned in the story. I have
fond memories of being in the small living room of the little duplex on 5th and
Pearce in Milwaukee, Wisconsin Grandmother sitting and crocheting. I
remember the clicketedy click tickedy tick of her needles and of her quiet
ways. I still have her treasured wedding gift of embroidered pillows
received 50 years ago on June 2, 1962.

Auntie Rose sent this story to me many years ago in an email. I thought it
was one of her personal experience. However, the story can be found in many
places on the web. I have found that the story is a common one. Here is one
link to the story elsewhere:
http://www.turnbacktogod.com/story-gods-embroidery/

It does not take away from the reality of it in our family. Grandmother Mary
Brinkman did embroidery and crocheting. The pillows I have are real. The
memories of the house in Milwaukee are also true.

A Passion for Living

A rose the symbol of love and passion

A rose the symbol of love and passion

To live is to love.
Ah, the passion of living.
Each moment precious.
Each day and year collecting

The good, the bad and
Even the ugly part of life.
Each experience precious
Even priceless.

My collection growing
As my hair is greying.
My appreciation of life’s variety
Expands until it Is boundless.

Originally written: January 11, 2004

I sat across from a friend and listened to the stories he was telling about his life. The stories reflected growing up in an envronment of anger and hate. Later, I was reminiscing on the conversation and how different my life was. I grew up in a poor family wearing hand-me-downs and shoes purchased from Goodwill stores. I admit there were days we hated our unreasonable father.

My sister was the only sibling that remained home to finish high school. All four boys got their high school diplomas later and several went on to college. I came the closest to staying at home until I finished high school. I left two weeks before graduation and went into the military receiving my diploma in the mail. As we grew into teenagers each of us began to have
an increasing number of conflicts with our father.

Yet, I must say we were privileged to grow up in that environment. We can face any challenge and know how to survive even thrive. Each experience we have had whether it was good, bad, or ugly enriched us. As I have grown in age, wisdom has provided a view of past happenings that has morphed from distaste to appreciation. In discussions with my brothers we discovered each of us has confidence in our abilities instilled by having been through difficult times.

I would even go so far as say each brother has a passion for living.

Caught in the Act

To observe the instant a child learns is a miracle.


I am amazed,
And in awe.

To see a baby,
Or a young child

Caught in the act,
Of seeing something for the first time.

The arms, legs
of constant motion stops.

The eyes open wide
Seem to be absorbing.

It is as if I can see
The child’s mind learning.

It is a wondrous sight,
A treasured moment.

Originally written: January 11, 2004

I saw a baby in a stroller see a robin sitting on a branch for the first time. I was totally captivated by the baby staring at the bird. For it’s part the robin chirped and chirped calling for a mate. The child stopped all motion and just looked at the bird. I could see her eyes widen and focus on the bird. It was absorbing and the thought came to mind was the baby was learning. I was elated to have watched the child see the robin red breast for the first time.