Memorial Day Weekend, 2023 was one I’ll never forget. My little town, nestled right alongside the interstate on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada is home to around 10,000 fallen heroes. Our beloved veterans. With heroes from as far back as the Civil War, our National Cemetery is one beauty. I know. I’ve spent some time there over the past few days.

Saturday, the cemetery needed help. A flag was provided for every grave, but human angels were needed to place them. Placement would begin at 8:30 in the morning. It was hoped that the flags would be in place by Monday. It’s one of two times a year the graves get fancied up.

With the spring weather being about as perfect as weather get, MM and I headed out early to beat the afternoon sun. We decided we’d get there around 8, just to get a jump on the activity. When one places flags, it’s wise to bring a screwdriver to make an insertion hole in the grass. We had that covered.

When we arrived, there were already many flags in the ground. By 9:30, all the flags were placed. Thousands of graves were adorned with the stars and stripes. Waving in the desert breeze, the view was breathtaking. Sadly, this cemetery is one that will continue to grow as we lose more vets every day.

While placing each flag, we read the name, branch of service and dates of birth and death. There were a couple soldiers that were over 100. Wives were buried with their men. The names of the wars were listed on the headstones, as well. The names of the men and women were varied, all unknown to us. Their years of service gave pause for thought. Years away from family and friends while dodging bullets without a complaint. They went to serve, coming home to a grateful nation.

After finishing our part, MM and I felt great. It was the smallest of things we could do to remember the fallen. We’d be back on Monday for the ceremony at 11 am.

Monday’s ceremony brings thousands of people from everywhere. Some parked as much as a quarter of a mile to honor the fallen. People of all ages and walks of life were there at 11:00 for the service.

A special group of men started off the ceremony. A group of veterans. They had walked a little farther than 1/4 mile. They had walked 50 miles from the state capital carrying thousands of dog tags of the fallen men and women that rest in the cemetery. As I was listening to their story, I thought of some days that I barely walk to the mail box and back to the house. 50 miles! An incredible act of love. They started on Saturday and camped two nights along the way. There were thunderstorms both nights. They didn’t give up, arriving at just the right time.

There was a fly over by some veterans, a 21 gun salute, and lots of military brass. There were special words for the Gold Star families who paid the ultimate price during a time of war. The Vietnam Vets arrived on their motorcycles, rumbling along to the back side of the cemetery.

Of course, the colors were presented at the beginning, and the songs for all branches of the military were played softly by a brass quartet. The Mayor, (who happens to be MM’s little brother) led us in the flag salute. The governor of our state had some beautiful thoughts to share. People were encouraged to stay and get to know their neighbors. A nice touch to a beautiful ceremony.

Just when I thought things couldn’t be better, I found out they could.

Yesterday, the task of removing the flags was at hand. Anyone who could help was asked to return at 8 am, Tuesday morning, to remove flags for use next year. With nothing better to do, I was there on a beautiful, blue sky desert morning. The breeze was perfect. For an hour, I had a section of soldiers all to myself.

I spent time thinking about my own sons that gave over 50 years of their lives serving with the United States Air Force. I thought about mothers throughout the United States that served with their sons and daughters as they waited for letters from foreign places. Some parents got back soldiers that weren’t quite the same and never would be again. Such a high price that a quiet group of mom’s paid, right along side their children.

I’d picked up about 250 flags when the strangest thing happened. Like so many times in life, the smallest miracles are missed if you’re not paying attention. I met a wonderful angel woman who was working at the same task. As it turns out, our husband’s both died form liver cancer. One small difference. Her one year heaven-ersary is June 5th. Listening to her story brought memories of cancer. Memories of loss. Memories of what it was like looking forward to that first milestone. One year without. Hoping after that first year, grief would suddenly complete the cycle.

Long story short, I made an angel friend among the heroes today. Meeting her put a bow on Memorial Day 2023 . We both agreed we’re looking forward to December 16th, when we’ll put out Wreaths. Please think about donating to Wreaths Across America. Look them up. It’s a nice thing to do.

Whatever you do today, thank a veteran. Even though Memorial Day has passed, thank one anyway. They gave up a lot to keep our country free. If they were asked, they’d tell you they’d do it again. That’s just the way they roll. Keep your eyes open for Miracle Friends. They’re only strangers until you say “Hello”.

More tomorrow.

Last night the heaven’s opened up and it poured buckets of beautiful spring rain. By late afternoon, it’d become quite blustery. It’d been the perfect day to cook a pot of spaghetti sauce for the freezer and stay inside.

Around 7 pm, the afternoon monsoon hit. Lightning, thunder, and then, no power. I know this because my “Help-I’ve-Fallen-And-I-Can’t-Get-Up” machine was blaring to the world “No Power. No Power. No Power.” This machine and I co-exist. I haven’t fallen and if I did, I’m pretty sure I could get up. But, out of a lonely widow’s fear, I pay for the service. Just in case, because you never know.

I probably should wear the pendant with the emergency button. I think that IS the important part of the plan. It hangs right by the side of the bed on my lamp, ready for emergencies. Like I say, I could probably slither to the nightstand with my injuries.

For the first two years of service, when an outage occurred, it alerted all the people on my list. CC and the kids. Slowly, one by one, they’d call me.

“Um, are you okay? Just checking.”

I’m so blessed to have family and friends that love me but I really don’t want to bother them with power outages. Last fall I called the company to change the setting.

“Would you please not call my contacts when the power goes out?” I asked a “child” associate on the other end of the line?

“Ohhhhh. We can’t do THAT! Your children will be upset if we change the settings for YOUR machine.”

Well, hold the phone, Bucko.

First of all, my “children” are adults that don’t like to be referred to as “the kids”, as they haven’t been for decades now.

I bought the machine.

I maintain the machine.

I chose the settings.

I’m UNCHOOSING the one that says “Call my family if the power goes out.”

With a bit of an argument, I prevailed. During last night’s outage of three hours, not one of my contacts was disturbed.

Why is it that when the power goes out, no matter the time, there are 24 things you want to do that require power? How many times can one turn a light switch in a five minute period with no result? I my case, quite a few. In different rooms, even.

With my windows shaking from the thunder, MM asked if Oliver and I would like to visit his house. Safety in numbers. It’d been a long day for us both and it would’ve been nice to see Wookie and her pet, my Mysterious Marine. I changed clothes, brushed my hair, grabbed Ollie, and headed to the garage.

Quite dark in a garage during an outage. Rather creepy.

I was about to put Oliver in the car, trying not to fall, because with the power outage, my unit wouldn’t alert anyone. It was then, I realized a little problem with the plan.

Garage door openers don’t work well when the power is out. Before you mention the emergency pull switch, I’d already thought of that. Below that switch sits my beautiful, shiny, brand-spanking-new luxury car. Nothing would happen to it when pulling the rope to unlatch the door and allow it to be opened. That’s true enough.

It was the woman pulling the rope that could break things that were working just fine. A pulled back muscle wouldn’t help in this situation. The garage doors are super heavy which is why there is a garage door opening in the first place.

In the black of night, Oliver and I returned to the comfort of home. It was an early night.

The outdoor noises are louder during a power outage. One thing I did notice was the moo-ing of a frantic cow. The farmer never came to the rescue and the mooing of one cow continued well into the night. She was still complaining when I woke up this morning.

With the nightly rain, which has persisted for over a week now, the gardens of Winterpast have never looked greener. I just planted a bougainvillea. Three leathery hosta’s will enjoy the shade under the bird houses. The geraniums are blooming like crazy. With the peony’s almost finished for the year, the roses will take over with blooms the size of saucers. It’s the year of flowers here on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada. The desert is ready for a super-bloom event.

Whatever you do today, try to avoid golfing in the rain. According to MM, it’s most unpleasant, especially when golfing with coaches that must play through to the last hole. Haven’t heard from that boy this morning, but he madder than a wet hen last night.

More tomorrow.

Written by The Rev. Dr. D. Scott Stoner — April 7, 2017

It’s the little things in life that make me happy, and one of those little things, believe it or not, is a memorable acronym. A good acronym contains an inspiring message and does so in a format that is easy to remember. Case in point is the acronym T.H.I.N.K.  Originally created as a communication guideline for online social media behavior, the five questions asked within this acronym are, in my opinion, a helpful guide for all forms of communication, in all aspects of our lives.

T is for the question, “Is it True?” The first test for anything we may wish to communicate is whether we know for certain that what we are about to say is true.  If we are not 100% certain that something is accurate or true then we shouldn’t be saying it, and therefore we don’t even need to put our communication through the filter of the next four questions.

H is for the question, “Is it Helpful?” This question asks us to reflect on our intention for what we are communicating. Will it move the conversation along in a way that is productive? Just because saying something sarcastic, for instance, might make us feel superior for a moment, it will most likely not be helpful to the relationship.

I is for the question, “Is it Inspiring?” Since communication involves a relationship, this question asks if what we have to say will enhance and build up our relationship with the person with whom we are communicating. “Speak only if it improves upon the silence,” a quote from Mahatma Gandhi comes to mind in this context

N is for the question, “Is it Necessary?” Is it necessary to point out every small mistake someone makes? Is it necessary to “pile on” criticism toward someone when they are already feeling bad? Is it necessary to be sure you get the credit for a good idea? Will what you are about to say enhance the current conversation? If not, don’t say it.

K is for the question, “Is it Kind?” The world can be a very unkind place, filled with words that are intended to bully and hurt others. We all benefit when we look for opportunities to speak and express kindness to each other.

All of this does not mean that we should avoid difficult conversations. It simply means that before we begin a potentially challenging conversation we pause and think about our true intentions, and then work to communicate in ways that are intended to expand and enrich our relationship with the other.  It is wise to remember that all of our conversations, big or little, impact our relationships, for better or for worse.

I invite you to make an intentional effort to keep the T.H.I.N.K. acronym in mind as you communicate with others over the next few days. See if it makes a difference, not just in what you say, but also in how you say it. If you find that what you want to say does not pass the filter test of the five questions above, you might want to think twice before you say it, for the sake of your relationships.

##

Yes. The world could use a few more T.H.I.N.K.-ers.

Whatever you plan to do this weekend, remember that character is who you are in the dark. This is a possible point to ponder if your power goes out in a thunderstorm after dark. Enjoy these last few days of spring. In an instant, it will be desert-hot here on the high plains of northwestern Nevada. I plan to make the most of the mild temps and afternoon rainstorms. Spring is certainly a beautiful time of year!

I’ll be back Monday!

Oy Vey.

Tragedy doesn’t know the day of the week. Bad things can happen at any moment and yesterday turned out to be quite the moment. My beautiful junk tree is committing suicide quietly in the back yard right under my watchful eye.

And so, the story begins.

Winterpast is lush this year. For new readers, “Winterpast” is the name of my home which sits on 1/2 acre of land groomed to Martha Stewart – English Garden status. Well, not quite yet, but every inch IS landscaped. There are paths, roses and 23 trees. Truthfully, there are 25 trees, but, I kept quiet about two of them.

With all the spring rain, everything is thriving. The fruit trees have never looked so great. Loaded with hundreds of plums and apricots, they are looking great. All the trees, except for one of them. Sitting center stage along the back fence, I care for a 25′ Russian Olive. I’ve learned that some states have outlawed this tree, considering it an invasive species. Okay, fine for them. My tree invaded this space about 16 years ago and is now too big to ignore.

I love this tree this tree, as it grows right in the middle of the high plains of Northwestern Nevada. It’s managed to thrive through desert heat and brutal winters. Until 2023. The neighbor hates my tree, having told me so many times. Secretly, it makes me love my tree that much more.

The tree has been failing while the others were thriving. Yesterday was the day something had to be done. Now, if you think going to the emergency vet is expensive, just try a tree doctor on a Sunday afternoon. Or, just get out the chain saw. It would be cheaper.

I’m connected to my neighborhood through an online program called Nextdoor. I’m just learning about the program, and put out an SOS for my failing tree. Right away a suggested name popped up with many other comments that told me he was the guy I needed, so I called to leave a message.

He called right back. On a very late Sunday afternoon. He would be right over.

I learned so many things in a short period of time, my mind was on overload.

Within five minutes of being on the property, he discovered many problems. The tree was strangling itself with its own roots. This wasn’t helped by the rock and black plastic keeping the noxious weeds under control. As he ripped open the plastic to expose beautiful, big roots, I could almost feel the tree take a deep breath. The plastic around the trees would need to go. ASAP. Another tree was also suffering, just not as bad.

The second problem had to do with all the beetles that were living under the plastic around the roots. Opportunistic freeloaders were living in the tree and killing it.

The last problem was the big one. Girdling Roots. The roots weren’t going out to look for water, they were circling the tree. This had been going on a very long time, as the problem roots had made indentations on the bark. As he dug away the dirt around the roots, amazingly huge anchors were explosed. All of a sudden, this tree looked like a real tree. The roots were as amazing as the 25 feet above the ground.

With his trusty ax, he lovingly pruned the roots, chopping off the bad ones.

He pointed out many things about the other trees in my yard. The cherry trees have the softest wood and are under attack of the beetles. Every tree in my yard needs spray. The Russian Olive is so sick, she needs injections and a trim. My apricot tree is the most lovely one he’s ever seen.

What’s a non-smoking, non-vacationing, non-gambling gardening gal to do? The grounds of Winterpast saved me on many days over the last three years. Gardening is my passion and Winterpast my true love. The trees will not die under my watch. Not without a fight.

We made a deal as the sun was setting over the desert mountains. He’ll be back as soon as possible to treat all the trees, except the two that are hiding on the side of the house. For the next few days, I’ll be removing some black plastic to expose the roots.

The roses have had so much pampering, they need to take a back seat for a minute. My Russian Olive needs me.

As he was leaving, we turned around to look at her. I felt that she was already sighing in relief while waving a little “Thank You”. It will take a few months for her to recover from this.

A poem comes to mind that CC gave me when I started teaching. It seems appropriate here.

DEEP ROOTS

“When I die,”

She said,

“I’m coming back

as a tree

with

deep

roots

And

I’ll wave

my leaves at

the children

every morning

on their way to

school

and

whisper

tree songs at night in

their dreams.

Trees with deep roots know

about the things

children need.”

B. Andreas — 1993

Yes, trees know a lot about what widows need, as well.

Whatever you do today, check on your trees. Really look at them and make sure they are thriving. Do some reading and learn about them. Make sure they haven’t decided to commit suicide right in front of you like my sweet Russian Olive. While you’re at it, spend some time in the garden. It’s good for what ails you.

More tomorrow.

Wookie and Oliver are a pair. Not only are they color coordinated, their personalities are a great match. Their combined energy allows them to run, roll around on the lawn, dig, bark, and run some more. They play themselves into a ball of teeth and fur over and over again. Then, they sleep.

I, on the other hand, am fairly shredded by this extended sleep over. This has been an experiment in how fun it is to have two dogs. It’s different and it definitely benefits the dogs.

Wookie is a Diva. She has her own bed, but prefers the center of mine. She uses her soulful brown eyes to make sure that she gets at least one bite of every one of my meals. She uses her diversionary tactics to blindside Oliver. Her sense of humor is hilarious, especially when she laughs at her own jokes.

Oliver is a guy. He loves to eat, chew on his bone, and sleep. I can see that he’s aging (just not fast enough). The youngster is stronger and faster than he is, as he approaches five years old. Hard to believe he was that adorable little pup thrust into my arms on Christmas morning in the parking lot of a major casino just west of here.

The breeder had assured me, after very long talks, that Oliver was just the dog I needed. And, he was heavily discounted. His entire litter had been sold. He was the one nobody wanted. Only 4.5 months old, he’d gotten car sick on the way to me. Still a little damp, he snuggled right under my heart and there he’s stayed.

Oliver is the most difficult dog I’ve ever raised. Growing up on a farm, from my earliest memories, I was around all kinds of animals. I became one of them. From the goose that bit me, to the sheep we raised for 4-H, there were always animals at the farm. Not pets. No. Friends for bit until they became dinner.

Fritz was my first dachshund. This red Weiner came into our lives when I was about six. We grew up together. I, the tomboy, and he, the ten pound watch dog. He never lived in the house because NO dogs were allowed. Nope. He just hung out on the farm doing whatever he wanted, rather like I did as a child. He never got any shots or health checks. He ate Purina Dog Chow with the real farm dog. He slept on a burlap sack by the back door. I never learned how he came to live among the vines with us. He just showed up one day.

Dachshunds are funny little dogs. They want what they want when they want it. They’re headstrong and feisty. Bred to hunt badgers, they can be persistent and brave. Oliver is all those things, but there is one problem. I’ve finally accepted that on an intelligence level of 1 -10, he’s a 2. He wouldn’t drown in the rain looking up in the clouds, but he might not realize it’s drier in the house.

He could be experiencing early dementia. He retains nothing. For five years, every day is new to him. Every lesson is a challenge, over, and over, and over.

“Oliver, wait.”

“Oliver, no bark.”

“Oliver, no jump.”

“No chew, Oliver.”

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver.”

Oy.

Vey.

Now, Wookie has the brains. She is an Aussie Doodle. That’s an Australian Shepherd/Poodle mixture. She is so intelligent it’s scary. She’s a quick learner, wanting to please. She is more of a leader than a follower. She knows her name and the commands, “Come”, “Sit”, and “Down”. She’s housebroken, (99.9% of the time). She’s almost done chewing things up. She has a heart of gold and you can easily hurt her feelings, as she just wants to please with a smile. All in all, she is one smart dog, which spotlights Oliver’s mental limitations.

Today, a new device is arriving. It’s a small, battery operated box that emits an unpleasant doggie sound when the button is pushed. Barking at the fence? Push the button. The dog will stop. Call the dog to your side. Praise.

Well, that’s how it works for a normal dog. Wookie will do just great. She knows her name and comes when called. She’s so alert, this device will help her stop barking at the fence.

Oliver thinks his name has been changed to Wookie, too.

“Oliver!” No response.

“Oliver! Come!” Looks the other way.

“Wookie!” The lightbulb sparks and he comes.

That is life during this crazy sleep over experience.

Last evening was Monday at the Movies. We watched John Wayne and Jimmie Stewart in “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence.” Wookie and Oliver weren’t impressed and fell right to sleep.

Tonight, we’ll try “Milo and Otis”. That might grab their attention. Wookie will love it, as she prefers action movies full of animals. Yes. She watches TV. She smiles at appropriate times. She understands this older doggie BFF is challenged and tries to help him out. Two dogs isn’t such a bad idea if one of the two wasn’t Oliver.

Whatever you do today, spend some time with your pet. Learn something new about them. Spoil them a little with an unexpected treat or activity. Realize that not all dogs are Rin-Tin-Tin smart. Some just live off their cuteness. Our pets absorb our loneliness and return the purest love in return. God got it right when he made pets, even if some are more challenged than others.

More tomorrow.

Road work! My little town is on fire with Road Work. It started on one of the main connecting streets in town right in front of the school. They put the finishing touches on the new street on the last day of school. It’s now come to my quiet little neighborhood. We should all be careful what we wish for. Wishes can turn into noisy projects.

Saturday last, a note was left on my door. In part, it advised that this would be the week for Road Work in my little neighborhood. There could be times that I couldn’t leave Winterpast for up to four hours. They would let me know. If I had a valid reason to leave on one of the five days listed, I was advised to call John Smith. It gave his number, the lucky man.

Well, I DID have a reason to leave yesterday. My annual eye appointment. Not such an easy thing to change, but it was moved to September. Sunday, I went to the grocery store and finished stocking up on perishables. I’d be happy to comply with their wishes. After all, I’m retired. Besides, Wookie is here for Doggie Camp. I don’t want to miss out on the fun!

Well, Monday came and I worked outside in the garden without leaving once. Not a sign of the road work. Tuesday came and went as rumbling excavators got closer. In the afternoon, I saw a truck at the corner of my street, while Winterpast rattled during the road work. I would assume that today is the day for my street, but I’m certainly not going to be one of those old ladies bothering Mr. John Smith.

“John, I have Bunco at 3. Where will the girls park?”

“John, can I still walk in the afternoon?”

“John, my dogs are afraid of loud noises, please stop.”

I’m sure John’s phone is ringing off the hook with calls from my Octogenarian neighbors. Around here, we don’t get more noise than the birds bring on the wind. A thunderstorm rattles us. No car or truck noises. Nothing. Just beautiful peace and quiet. Until this week.

In the harsh environment of the high plains desert, the roads take a beating, along with everything else around here. Buildings look ten years older than they are. Roofs are often patched due to random spring hail storms. The wind helps sandblast anything in its way. With the snow in the winter and 110 degree afternoons in the summer, the roads are pot-holed, some resembling swiss cheese. Upkeep is a constant problem.

Mr. Mayor, who just happens to be the Mysterious Marine’s brother, battles fiercely to fund necessary repairs. For the first three years I lived here, nothing was repaired. Our old mayor had fifty reasons at the ready why our roads were not repaired or replaced.

“Why, Miss Joy, that would take $1 million dollars a mile to fix those roads. Our little old town doesn’t have THAT kind of money, Honey.”

Well, HE isn’t here anymore. There’s a NEW mayor in town. One that speaks weekly with the Nevada Governor, Joe Lombardo or shares a cup of coffee with Elon Musk now and then. That’s OUR major. He’s getting things done. (TESLA is just up the road. Elon is in town more than one would think.)

One thing about inviting change, is that sometimes, the change can be painful to those in the middle of it. As I mentioned, one of the best things about our little town is my neighborhood of peace and quiet. I can actually identify birds in my yard by their little songs. No Jake breaks rattling. No traffic noise. Nothing. Just the sound of the wind as it races off the mountains and across the desert.

While visiting with Ninja Neighbor, she shared something worrisome. There’s a new exit being planned for the interstate. A new industrial park. A new stream of activity that will be pouring into my little world, right on the other side of VST’s mountain. Right through BLM land (The ORIGINAL and ONLY BLM — BUREAU OF LAND MANAGEMENT). This highway would travel right behind Winterpast. Right through the horses we love. Right through the quiet of the desert, shattering any quiet we might have enjoyed.

Could be great for property values. True enough.

Might really be great for the growth of our town. Growth is wonderful, right?

Maybe it’d bring a couple new schools and another grocery store out our way. We sure need those!

Listening to the racket from a little bit of street repair, I could think of a hundred reasons it won’t be so good for a very, very long time. I’m old. I don’t have a whole lot of time left to find out if it’s good or not. That will be proven long after I’m gone.

Today, I’m going to be glad that the repairs are just in my neighborhood. So lovely to drive on newly paved streets, it’ll be great to have a center line. We don’t have that now. One has to be careful to stay on their own side of the road.

Change.

It’s inevitable, but sometimes a little uncomfortable. Still searching for a cabin by a meadow where the wild bees swarm. It’s just past the rainbow where the soft breezes blow. Just a little place that glows with candlelight every evening. Until I find it, Winterpast will do just fine, even if it’s a little noisy right now.

Whatever you do today, find a little time to enjoy some quiet. Silence is healing. Find the kind of quiet in which you can almost hear your own heart beat. That’s hard to find these days. When you find that kind of quiet, listen to your own thoughts. Now, THAT doesn’t change.

Life is beautiful. We walk through life with all kinds of people that help us through the tough times. Moms, Dads, Sisters, Brothers, Aunts, Uncles, Friends, and even Strangers. Send this love song to the person that helps you through your days.

Life IS beautiful. Life IS wonderous. Those stars ARE shining just for us.

Love to you all.

More tomorrow.

Death Is Nothing At All

By Henry Scott-Holland

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.

All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet agai

Whatever you do this weekend, fill it with wonder. Look at the activities in your town and pick one. You might be surprised how many things are happening during these last days of spring. I’ll be traveling over Donner Pass to enjoy a family graduation.

More on Monday.

They’re Gone

As you shed tears that they’re gone
Remember to smile because they’ve lived

While closing your eyes to pray they’ll come back
Open your eyes and see all they’ve left

Of course, your heart’s empty because you can’t hold them close
But your heart also remembers the love you shared

For a time, you’ll turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
With time, you’ll be happy for tomorrow BECAUSE OF yesterday

You can remember only that they’re gone
Or you can cherish precious memories, helping them to live on

When grief is new, you’ll cry, close your mind, and turn your back
And then, one fine day you’ll do what they would want:

Smile.

Open your eyes.

Love.

And then….

Go On.

Grief. Up and down. Like being tossed around in the highest seas. More lonely than a desert highway. But, like boats on the ocean or a car in the desert, we’re just passing through our grief. Don’t stay there too long, for all the world’s mysteries and tomorrows are too precious to waste. Keep going, in spite of the grief. It WILL get better.

More tomorrow.

_{Based on original poem “He is Gone” by David Harkins}

from God’s Little Devotional Journal for Women –Honor Books, Tulsa Oklahoma, pg. 173

Is or was your spouse your best friend?

How privileged you are if the answer is yes. Perhaps an even more important question to ask is this: Are you are were you a good friend to your spouse? In being a good friend, you often gain a best friend!

A true friend will let you empty your heart when it feels overloaded by stress, concern, or worry.

Sir Francis Bacon once wrote: “We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are the most dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind: you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flower of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt openeth the heart but a true friend, to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatesoever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confusion.”

Listening ears are one of the best gifts you can give to your spouse or children. Such ears are invariably connected to a kind and patient heart.

Make friends with the four C’s:

Compassion

Caring

Consideration

Comfort

These four traits will never grow old or out of fashion.

A friend is one who comes in when the whole world has gone out.

Remember, to have a friend you must be a friend. Whatever you do today, take some time to listen to another who needs to talk a bit. It can make all the difference in the world.

More tomorrow.