light through the window ~

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always

As of late, it seems I struggle with words.

No, that’s not right. It’s not a struggle really. It seems more I am resigned to a place unfamiliar (and yet not). It is a quiet peace, perhaps even a place created by grief, but not unwelcomed or uncomfortable.

It is a time of adjustment, acceptance, and clarity ~ a period of understanding that I have wondered might be related to aging, loss, or faith. Regardless, it is not cursed or filled with anxiousness. It is an unexpected blessing, a realization of grace, of love.

I miss my daddy, but it is not an ache that leaves me restless, looking for answers that I already possess. Rather, it is the little things where I find myself wishing he could share it with me (just before realizing that he does). When I round the curve on the road home and notice a group of more than twenty deer in the field near the woods; in wings fluttering along the fence line as I tend the feeder; a light through the window when I awake to the sound of my name.

Blessings.

Time is nothing but an invisible marker, a thread binding us forever to a moment – or rather binding the moment to us so that it is always the same, as near as our next breath. Ours.

We are never without love.

. . .

a deep shade of night ~

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hold

I painted my walls
a deep shade of night
floors –
the essence of sun
I slipped through the shadows
and ran through the weeds
out past the places
I remembered
undone

every dream
unpretending
to be as before –
times I swore not to sleep
anymore
lest truth
find me drifting
in realms beyond this
moored to forever
– cursed by a kiss

another one day
tis my fate to recall
how my tears
just beginning –
were destined to fall
as rain
to the flowers
bloomed in my stead –
as rivers of somewhere
roll ‘neath
my bed

. . .

it won’t feel like Christmas until ~

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thesmokies

You’ve heard it before. It seems everyone is asked to complete the sentence from time to time – even as the final moments sneak by on Christmas eve.

I personally love the answers. Some wait for a certain movie to play (It’s a Wonderful Life, my favorite) or they wait for snow, the first Christmas card, a call from across the miles. Regardless, for most, there is a trigger that pulls them (sometimes kicking) into the spirit of these days.

Last weekend, I spent an uncomfortable amount of time at Home Depot. People were beginning to think I worked there. In fact, I helped one lady by pushing her cart to the registers.

And while I am rarely without the Christmas spirit (even in June), I was losing my taste for home renovation options!

But as I was searching for the appropriate aisle for molding, I realized the music had changed.  O, they were playing Christmas music, albeit most of it was what I refer to as ‘retail’ Christmas music. But then, on the aisle between hinges and paint thinner, it changed – Joy to the World began playing. It was only the music, but I recognized it immediately. It was enough….

I’ll admit that I am a terrible singer (and a worse dancer), but I couldn’t resist. I began singing and the more I sang, the louder I became, and the more I felt Christmas cooling in my bones.

From one aisle to the next, I sang……..the first verse and then again (the only verse I knew for certain the words).

Since then, a co-worker gave me a tiny picture frame ornament; another, a sand and driftwood candle; and still another – a new birdhouse (guess they’ll be moving out of the grill), feeder, and ten pounds of wild birdseed.

Just this morning, as I made the turn beside a church on my way to work, two does stopped in their morning walk to watch me (hey you).

I feel it everywhere, but right here (pointing to heart) the most. It’s in all I do – hope, faith, family, angels, my daddy, the Smoky Mountains, evergreen, music, and love (always love).

Christmas is come………and I was home!!!

Merry Christmas to you. May your heart be filled to overflowing.  Joy (sweet joy) to the world!

Evermore,
Bobbie

faraways ~

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11/27/2016
1:38 AM

he spoke
of worlds
she wandered through
but never dared admit
to knowing more
than just her way around

to listen
lest the madness come
to steal this fire away
what wish
could e’er replace
his favored star

was given name
one frigid night
when wrapped again
they dreamed
of faraways
ten thousand more
tho ne’er a one remained
as breath beyond the window
light upon the snow

mysteries remembered
to a kiss

where questions spilled
unanswered
in wait for evermore
a night when he
might carry her to home

shroud in ancient
story
of some other
yesterday
he found her there
within a wish
he made

. . .great-smoky-mountains-on-pinterest-_-tennessee-national-parks-and-___