Prepare your heart. Prepare your mind.
Make way for our Heavenly King,
who humbled himself from Holy on High,
to earthly flesh - in a lowly manger to lie.
Th Author of the Universe,
born to live the perfect life and take upon Him man's own curse,
delivered to the cross to die.
Reconciled and freed from sin, now pure in God's own sight,
we give thanks and praise to Christ Jesus our Lord
who was born that first Christmas night.
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 1:40 PM UTC
Now that you’re two, we see the boy you will be
Whether you’re chasing the dog or surprising us with hugs, we love your personality-
Energetic and kind, strong-willed and smart;
naughty, sweet, or wild, we love your big heart.
Now that you’re two, you have lots of things to say.
With excitement in your eyes, you tell us new stories every day.
We listen intently, though we can’t decipher it all,
most of your stories end with a laugh, an exuberant shout, or something about bup bup and a ball.
Now that you’re two, each day you learn something new.
You can point to your nose, your tummy and toes, and let us know when a choo choo is passing through.
You’re observant like an engineer, and try to figure things out on your own.
“I got it” is your confident phrase, but you’ll ask for help if you can’t do something alone.
Now that you’re two, you’re a great little helper.
In addition to being the best mess maker we know, you’re also a great picker upper.
Your favorite chore is feeding the dog every morning and night
because when we’re not looking you like to sneak a bite.
Now that you’re two, your world is so much bigger,
Wanderlust is in your blood, you always seek adventure.
Sometimes your curiosity strays you too far from our side.
You’re fearless and bold, and brave enough to conquer the big kid slide.
Now that you’re two, you would rather live outside.
If you could, you’d play in the yard all day and never step inside.
You’re easy to please; all you need to have fun is a stick or a ball, and a little bit of space.
But, it breaks your heart when we have to be done and puts the saddest look on your cute little face.
Now that you’re two, your talents are on display.
Every sport you’ve picked up, you naturally know how to play.
Maybe someday you’ll be a soccer star and play on the national team-
maybe you’ll be a pitcher, an artist, a doctor, whatever your choose, we want you to chase your dream.
We love you with our whole hearts and with every fiber in our being.
We pray you’ll grow to be a good man, who loves the Lord, and serves Him willingly.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC
When the light inside your head turns gray
and all you’ve had for breakfast was coffee and some cold regrets;
you choke down words you cannot say
and stumble out to greet the day.
The faces on your desk look blank,
like the shadows that you stop to thank.
You’ve died inside and met your fate,
your heart cries out don’t complicate.
You stop to watch two lovers as they walk hand in hand,
suddenly, you think you understand,
but you don’t.
Your heart cries out, don’t contemplate.
This chapter in your book of life,
once full of love and happiness-
now the hole inside your chest
is pain and strife.
And it ends not like you know it should
and you’d try to fix it if you knew you could,
try to mend it all the same,
but it’s hard to fan a burned out flame.
These pages coming to their end,
in this chapter it seems you've lost a friend.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
We rock together in the chair-
your morning tempest nestled into the crook of my arm.
I wait patiently for the edge of your storm
for clouds and cries to ease away and my coffee to cool.
What do you think about in the quiet calm?
Do you think? Or do you simply feel?
Comfortable and complete, I wonder about you
and the person you will be.
What do you see
when you stare
at the wall, the window,
the side of my face?
Colors, shapes, shadows, light- captivate you.
I enjoy watching you try to figure it all out.
Everything new,
nearly too much to take in.
Slowly- the sights, warmth, and motion
overwhelm you.
Your eyes close-
although you fight it.
We breathe together.
I hold you close,
lost in the wonder of your face-
so familiar and strange.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
We had been trying for a few months
and she had convinced herself that something was wrong-
that it was never going to happen.
I didn’t know, but said it would, eventually.
Told her we had to be patient. It was out of our control,
but we would keep trying.
I came home from work tired;
expecting to see her upset on the couch again.
At the door I took a breath- walked up the stairs,
tossed my keys and wallet on the table, prepared to comfort.
Her face was silent, but her eyes smiled.
It was then I noticed, next to my keys, a pregnancy test with
two pink lines.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
the purpose of life is to
love
and
grow.
As we get older,
friends change.
We lead different lives,
value different things
and are less inclined
to compromise.
You are my only friend
who will remain.
And when
you
or
I
change,
we will change (and grow)
together.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
Through his grizzled beard,
“Mary says I need to work
on my people skills.
I don’t know- maybe I do.”
His relentlessly youthful eyes
know when the sap will run.
His sense of the woods is deep.
His thick gnarled hands
can take nature and find its art.
The deep lines on his face map a life well lived.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
There once was a lad from the Lone Star State,
who dreamed of exploration and realized that just over the horizon, adventure await.
He was commissioned by the internal desire for adventure,
which burns deep inside us all, and within him grew,
so he assembled a ragtag crew to explore a land seen by few.
He set off for the ancient land- more north than he’d ever been-
whose beauty and wonder only true voyageurs and men of the wilds knew.
By air and by land, the voyageur lad traveled to his Uncle’s cabin,
nestled deep within the Harshaw Hill country.
This legendary cabin, was built solely by the hands of the one they call Uncle Buck-
the most amazing cabin one could ever see.
Uncle Buck is renowned and recognized throughout the land
for his merit, adventurous spirit, long grizzled beard, and skillful hand.
It was here, in the cabin’s comfort, the brave Sugar Beans (as he was fondly named)
greeted his courageous crew with a hearty, “Boozhoo!”
They were some of the finest canoeists around-
paddlers tested, tried and true.
Together they pondered, planned, and plotted the course of their adventure
for which they’d set forth;
packed their belongings, and dreamed of North.
Sugar Beans’ crew consisted of five, rugged braves-
paddlers he knew had grit and could battle the wind, rain, and waves.
Uncle Buck, a wise and grizz old guide, had seen many moons in the Northland sky.
Respect of all living things and the song of the wild are the codes to which he ascribes.
Jonesy, a well-traveled voyageur himself and Sugar Beans’ proud dad,
had been to this land and wanted to share its magic with his brave little lad.
Joeseppi , a young blood at heart, was the lad’s loyal cousin and friend,
a trustworthy bowman, on whom all paddlers could depend.
Makwa, the newcomer- fierce as a bear and as tough as the rest-
and after day one, she gave it her best.
And last there was Pierrὲson; the lad’s other cousin and fellow adventure zealot,
who once learned his lesson and stayed away from anything that resembled an apricot.
They loaded the van, strapped on the canoes, and greeted the early morning with a boisterous “Bonjour!” and embarked North to begin The Magical Northwoods Mystery Tour.
Traversing blue highways the voyageurs meandered north, through the wilds of Wisconsin and the Land of 10,000 lakes, hoping to make the Canadian border before it was too late.
Eventually they arrived at the Magical Northwoods’ doorway- delicate and ornate.
The crew unloaded their gear and launched their canoes- confident and sure.
Each eager paddle stroke brought them closer to all the memories they would create.
And Sugar Bean and his crew created memories- some of the best.
Memories that seep into dreams and make one feel blessed.
Memories of:
discovering a pictograph and plodding through a ****** river- just to get back on path;
stumbling upon wolf tracks and forgetting the fishing poles- but never the packs;
exploring craggy caves and battling and paddling against the wind and waves;
hunting for ice under rock clefts out of the sun, they searched and searched but came up with none;
swimming in the warm water nearly every day and asking painted turtles if they wanted to play;
practicing the art of stalking seagulls, and on every lake, they gave greeting the glorious eagles;
dropkicking each and every single portage and of food and laughter there was no shortage.
The crew came back with fantastic tales and experienced everything a voyageur could wish.
And although his dad will try to tell you it was only by an eighth of an inch, there are pictures to prove that Sugar Beans caught the biggest fish!
So here’s a paddle rattle for you- young voyageur lad- the greatest voyageur old Quetico’s ever seen! May your adventurous spirit continue to grow and may the waters you paddle always be serene.
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 6:47 PM UTC
When I look into your eyes,
God is granting me a glimpse of what’s to come:
warmth and love,
wholeness.
His discerning hand working,
blessing us with children.
I see challenges and difficulties,
but with His help, nothing insurmountable.
We have strength and confidence
to provide for our children and love them unconditionally.
Our children-
A patchwork quilt of love:
A brilliant child- once institutionalized and neglected-
who knew no comfort or hope-
knows love and belonging.
A healthy child- once lonely and scared
with an aching, distended stomach-
is now happy and strong.
An able child- once contorted,
powerless to walk, left isolated and discarded-
takes steps to accomplish dreams.
I see their smiles.
I feel their joy.
We are family.
They are growing and thriving-
achieving and succeeding.
We believe in them.
Though only glimmers in your eyes,
they are beautiful and we love them.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 1:04 PM UTC
Waiting listening watching -
senses strain against
the darkness.
Dark gives way to gray
enough to see
deceptive shadows.
The woods stir slowly.
Chickadees speak, still sleepy.
Leaves rustle in the distance
alerting vigilant ears and eyes; inciting hope.
Scanning the ridge and shooting lanes, my eyes - then ears -
lock on rummaging squirrels.
Cold hands slip back into pockets;
it tries to snow.
Ravens complain back and forth.
Stillness -
then the rise of wind
through the trees.
Around eleven I walk to Dad’s stand.
Quiet talk and hot soup -
no deer.
The afternoon is spent, back against a Maple, with cautious thoughts comfortable enough to creep forward and linger in the peace of the woods.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC