At the end of the day….

At the end of the day I like to reflect on what has happened.  I don’t do much sitting down in a day’s time..even eating is kind of up and down(which I know is not good). The days are busy,  but there are events  that stand out.  The brightness of the leaves on some of the trees that are turning, and the way the sun filters through their branches.  The goodness of simple,nutritious soup:  Some chicken, broth, fire roasted tomatoes, cannelini beans, onions, celery,carrots and zucchini.  Being able to share it with the less fortunate makes the heart pump with gladness. Hot coffee and  muffin.  Energy to get the most important things accomplished.  The zinnias and cosmos that continue to bloom. And a definition finally came to me from the dream I had a few months ago.  The words, “Small graves, Strong horses” stuck in my mind after the dream.  Tomorrow I will share what it means to  me. The grace of God certainly covers me.

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My daughter and…

My daughter and I rode through the cemetery on our bike (we have a tandem). Marvelous looking headstones, huge cypts or tombs or whatever they are called.  And some tiny not so marvelous headstones.  One  indicating the death of two sons.  A small angel sits above it, corroded from time and elements.  But guards the little space that contains the children.  I recognize many names and know what they died from. I am blessed that my children did not die…that I don’t have any life threatening disease and that I am still here.  That my number has not been called.  I praise God that my legs can pedal this bike. 

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Finding the daily blessing

In the midst of all the things that filter into our days, there are blessings.  Some hidden that we have to dig to find.  Some obvious that we will notice right away…or maybe not.  The obvious may be blocked because our minds are racing ahead to what needs to be done, where we have to be, who we have to deal with.  It is 9:45 in the morning as I write this.  I have been up for several hours.  The first thing that needs to be done in the morning is to feed the cats.  They rely on that.  I like the feel of their soft fur as they brush against my legs.  They don’t care what I look like.  They love me because I offer food, attention, and love them back in spite of the occasional bird or chipmunk they kill.  The birds are lined up on the post where the feeders hang empty.  Waiting.  The blessing so far this morning? Being needed.

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