Thursday, April 23, 2020
Friday, September 20, 2019
Natures Wisdom - The Damaged Tree
On a hill overlooking the lake at our cabin, we have a bench
where we often sit and take in the beauty of the property. In front of the
bench sits a tall old poplar.
A few years back, we came to find that a beaver had taken a
huge chunk of the tree, attempting to weaken it, so it would fall and they
could use it for their purposes. Yet for some reason, after it destroyed over
half of the circumference of the trunk, the beaver gave up.
We were concerned that the tree would fall unexpectedly, or
that it would wither and die. My son told me one day that it was dead. I knew
different.
Year after year we return to find her standing strong and
healing. Not as filled out with leaves as she once was, yet still growing.
How do I know she is female you ask? I don’t KNOW, I
guess I just feel it. Her energy feels motherly. So, I sit near her and ask
questions and I sense the answers.
She is a poplar. Her life is to grow. That is her mission,
well that as well as to teach her young.
She provides protection to birds and
small animals in the forest.
She provides beauty. She is
tall, limbs stretched out, with new growth. Not as much as when she was young,
but still she grows.
She experiences the breeze
blowing her leaves and her branches. She sways, I imagine with her eyes closed,
just feeling Gods presence. It rained last night, her bark is still damp to the touch.
She doesn’t dry as quickly as she did as a sapling...
She lives. She accepts that she is aging and
she is okay with that. That is her destiny.
She has a spirit connected with God, her saplings, her
community and the entire forest. She is connected to me. We stand, with my eyes
closed and my hand on her wounded bark. I feel her presence.
She reminds me to slow down, allow aging to happen. Protect
and teach the world and never stop growing.
When its our time, don’t fight it… succumb. Return to our
creator. Until then, live life to the fullest.
Don’t dwell in fear, in anger or in resentment, but live out life fully.
Love, have faith, and be present.
What I learned
from a Damaged Tree
- · Be present~ Feel Gods presence
- · Know your worth
- · Bring value to others
- · Always continue to grow. If you are not growing, you are dying
- · Be a part of a community, teach and serve, give back to others
- · Stand strong, when someone or something attempts to take you down, hold your ground, have faith, your wounds will heal
- · Aging is inevitable, accept it, embrace it as a part of our journey
Life is not about a future destination, about running
aimlessly. It’s about presence of spirit, of self.
Life is BE-ING. We are human beings, not human doings. So…
BE!
This tree has been through so much. Even though 50% of a
portion of the trunk was destroyed, the tree stood strong and the beaver gave
up. If you look closely, you can see there have been animals and bugs who
realized that she has a weak spot and have attempted to weaken it more, yet…
she fought.
She healed, she grew
thicker skin over the open wound and still stands strong years later.
There are so many things we can learn from this damaged
tree. We can learn from all areas of nature. We can learn by taking quiet time
with ourselves and with God. When we slow down from the busy, hectic, chaotic
world we live in and take time to quiet our mind and be open to Gods voice, we
will hear it. For me, on this day, I heard it, by sitting quietly with a
damaged tree.
Much love, Geli Ulku September 2019
Thursday, March 8, 2018
Painting Her Toes; letters from heaven
This has been one of the most difficult blog posts to write, yet also the most therapeutic.
The death of a loved one is a hard thing to process, more so, the permanence of it all. Yet it's something we will all experience in our lives. Everyone grieves differently, and according to everything I have read, "They" say, that it is all normal. Some completely lose it and are inconsolable for weeks, months and even years. And then some, just move on with life, without much of a hiccup after a major loss. Who's to say what's right or wrong... or that one may have loved deeper than another. We are unable to feel another's pain, or judge their intensity of grief. What we can do, is offer love, support, friendship and understanding. This is my story...
A few months ago, I received an email saying this..."Going thru a notebook, found this. I love you... and, oh man, did she ever love you. Thank you for being you."
Attached was this:
September 21st 2017- Brad met me in the lobby and as we were walking into the entrance of the ICU, he warned me to "be prepared, she's not looking good". I knew already, there was no amount of preparation I could do for this. This woman who I just flew across the country to see, on a one way ticket, is my mother. Well, one of them anyway. She came into my life on my 2nd birthday and loved me and helped to raise me ever since. She married my dad when I was six years old, attended Brownies with me, and Karate classes, took me to the doctor, school conferences, planned play-dates and picked me up from school when I was ill. She was my primary caregiver in addition to my dad for the majority of my childhood. The fact that she divorced my dad more than twenty years ago has had no bearing on our relationship. She has always remained in my life, as well as my kids and grand-kids lives. She has since remarried Brad, and had three additional stepdaughters. We are all family.
I received the call the previous night that she had been placed on life support. I had come to visit her about a month ago, and she was in good spirits when I arrived August 30th. We spent two good days together and were able to take an overnight girls trip to Daytona Beach, have a wonderful dinner and do some shopping as well as play in the ocean a bit. Now, just over three weeks later, she is hooked up to numerous IV's, has a breathing tube down her throat, is getting dialysis and has a catheter. She is unresponsive to my voice 99% of the time. There were two moments I think she may have been aware of my presence.
I had gotten a little over three hours of sleep the night prior to arriving here and am emotionally and physically drained. I feel very strongly that her spirit is no longer attached to the shell, her body... I feel like this is the end, like she doesn't want to fight anymore. I want to tell her that it's okay, she doesn't have to hold on. She can let go and be at peace.
I hear Brad tell her to fight, that it's not her time. He needs her. And I realize that although she was one of the main people in my past, and has had a huge part in creating who I am today, I have my own family. I have my husband, my kids and my grand-kids. As much as I love her, and want to spend many more special moments with her.... she's not the focal point in my life, as she is his. He is not ready to move forward without her. She was my past, but she is his future. I can't even imagine how difficult that must be.
All I want is some time alone with her, I want to climb in her hospital bed and snuggle up to her and tell her, and maybe myself, it will be ok...but I cant. I can barely hug her or kiss her. There are so many machines and tubes attached to her. She is bloody and bruised from all of the pokes and prods. Her eyes aren't open, but they're not closed either. She doesn't focus. Her feet twitch every once in a while. She seemed to squeeze my hand once, but I'm not sure if it was intentional.
I know the staff is here to help, I feel frustrated though because I always feel as if I am in their way. Don't they know I am her daughter, it's me she wants to help her, not them. I comply, I realize I am being emotionally irrational. The constant beeping, the alarms, are so overwhelming. At one point a suction machine turned on that was sucking blood and mucous from her mouth but no one had prepared us for that. She started thrashing like she couldn't breathe and the gurgling choking noise was so scary that I ran out and yelled "We need help!" Many people came running in, but when they realized what we were worried about, they were irritated. I got a talking to by her nurse who happened to be right outside her door and didn't seem concerned at all. This type of thing they see all of the time. This is their job, waiting and watching while people die and the families grieve.
After staying the night, so Brad (being at her bedside for two days straight) could go home and shower and rest a little, it was time for a shift change. Brad came back and I left to the coffee shop for a couple hours. Upon my return, he was waiting outside, agitated. He said that the doctor had a conversation with him that upset him. They addressed with him her desire for resuscitation. Basically, up until that point, there was hope for a miracle, that she would pull through. That time had passed. She was in major organ failure with tubes helping her breathe, and medicine making her heart continue to beat. She was on continuous dialysis and had too many IV's to count. The staff told him that if she went into cardiac arrest, and they tried to resuscitate, they would inevitably break her ribs and she would be in horrible pain, yet most likely would never recover again. How... does one accept that kind of news about your spouse that you planned to spend many more years with? Needless to say, the news didn't surprise me. I had already come to that conclusion. We talked about our feelings, and the reality of the situation at hand and we cried.
The amazing thing, was that amidst conflict in the past with Brad and I, at this time, this horribly difficult time, we honored each other. I wish I could teach everyone to do that... with grace and compassion. He, as her husband, had the ultimate decision making power, and me, as her "ex step-daughter" had no legal rights, had it not been for a Health Care directive. At this time though, it wasn't about legality... we were a team. Fighting for the life that we so wanted to protect. I was honored and so grateful that he took my desires into consideration.
Other family members began showing up, her sister and sister in law, and her middle stepdaughter, Erin. We cried, we talked, we sat and waited. I decided that Di needed a pedicure. I had given her one approximately six months ago, right after her initial diagnosis.
March 2017- Di called me on her birthday right after they'd gotten home from the hospital to tell me that the ER doctor told her and Brad that she's in liver failure... that "she'd either need a transplant or it was just a matter of time". She told me she was scared. When I asked her if she wanted me to come visit, she said "yes, that would be nice" without a pause. That told me how truly scared she was. Later that day, I booked a flight for the following week. While there, we shopped for organic food, I cooked for her... all the healthy goodies she liked. We laid by the pool, we talked, we laughed and a few moments, we cried. At one point, I was sitting outside getting some sun and she came out and just stood there quietly. I asked her what was wrong and she started to cry, "I'm scared" she said. We hugged and she thanked me profusely for coming. The night before I left, we were working on a puzzle in the kitchen, and I decided, she needed a pedicure. So, we got a tub, I washed her feet, massaged them and painted her toes. She was beaming, and raving how sweet I was for days. <3
So, when my stepsister told me she was coming to Florida, was there anything we needed, I asked her to bring nail polish, and she did. As we were all sitting around Di's bedside, in the ICU, we decided it was time. She was unresponsive, we had all come to the realization that this was the end. This is our final goodbye. We put chap-stick on her very dry lips, massaged her hands, legs and feet with lotion and Erin and I painted her toes.
The death of a loved one is a hard thing to process, more so, the permanence of it all. Yet it's something we will all experience in our lives. Everyone grieves differently, and according to everything I have read, "They" say, that it is all normal. Some completely lose it and are inconsolable for weeks, months and even years. And then some, just move on with life, without much of a hiccup after a major loss. Who's to say what's right or wrong... or that one may have loved deeper than another. We are unable to feel another's pain, or judge their intensity of grief. What we can do, is offer love, support, friendship and understanding. This is my story...
A few months ago, I received an email saying this..."Going thru a notebook, found this. I love you... and, oh man, did she ever love you. Thank you for being you."
Attached was this:
This letter was written March 2017, after I left a short visit with my stepmom, Dianne, in Florida. She wrote this out, planning to type it later and post it to Facebook along with a photo of her painted toes to brag about me. She never got around to posting it... which is okay, because when I received it, was in November 2017, over a month after she passed away. I believe, it was her letter to me from heaven.
 |
| Di and me March 2017 |
I received the call the previous night that she had been placed on life support. I had come to visit her about a month ago, and she was in good spirits when I arrived August 30th. We spent two good days together and were able to take an overnight girls trip to Daytona Beach, have a wonderful dinner and do some shopping as well as play in the ocean a bit. Now, just over three weeks later, she is hooked up to numerous IV's, has a breathing tube down her throat, is getting dialysis and has a catheter. She is unresponsive to my voice 99% of the time. There were two moments I think she may have been aware of my presence.
I had gotten a little over three hours of sleep the night prior to arriving here and am emotionally and physically drained. I feel very strongly that her spirit is no longer attached to the shell, her body... I feel like this is the end, like she doesn't want to fight anymore. I want to tell her that it's okay, she doesn't have to hold on. She can let go and be at peace.
I hear Brad tell her to fight, that it's not her time. He needs her. And I realize that although she was one of the main people in my past, and has had a huge part in creating who I am today, I have my own family. I have my husband, my kids and my grand-kids. As much as I love her, and want to spend many more special moments with her.... she's not the focal point in my life, as she is his. He is not ready to move forward without her. She was my past, but she is his future. I can't even imagine how difficult that must be.
All I want is some time alone with her, I want to climb in her hospital bed and snuggle up to her and tell her, and maybe myself, it will be ok...but I cant. I can barely hug her or kiss her. There are so many machines and tubes attached to her. She is bloody and bruised from all of the pokes and prods. Her eyes aren't open, but they're not closed either. She doesn't focus. Her feet twitch every once in a while. She seemed to squeeze my hand once, but I'm not sure if it was intentional.
I know the staff is here to help, I feel frustrated though because I always feel as if I am in their way. Don't they know I am her daughter, it's me she wants to help her, not them. I comply, I realize I am being emotionally irrational. The constant beeping, the alarms, are so overwhelming. At one point a suction machine turned on that was sucking blood and mucous from her mouth but no one had prepared us for that. She started thrashing like she couldn't breathe and the gurgling choking noise was so scary that I ran out and yelled "We need help!" Many people came running in, but when they realized what we were worried about, they were irritated. I got a talking to by her nurse who happened to be right outside her door and didn't seem concerned at all. This type of thing they see all of the time. This is their job, waiting and watching while people die and the families grieve.
After staying the night, so Brad (being at her bedside for two days straight) could go home and shower and rest a little, it was time for a shift change. Brad came back and I left to the coffee shop for a couple hours. Upon my return, he was waiting outside, agitated. He said that the doctor had a conversation with him that upset him. They addressed with him her desire for resuscitation. Basically, up until that point, there was hope for a miracle, that she would pull through. That time had passed. She was in major organ failure with tubes helping her breathe, and medicine making her heart continue to beat. She was on continuous dialysis and had too many IV's to count. The staff told him that if she went into cardiac arrest, and they tried to resuscitate, they would inevitably break her ribs and she would be in horrible pain, yet most likely would never recover again. How... does one accept that kind of news about your spouse that you planned to spend many more years with? Needless to say, the news didn't surprise me. I had already come to that conclusion. We talked about our feelings, and the reality of the situation at hand and we cried.
The amazing thing, was that amidst conflict in the past with Brad and I, at this time, this horribly difficult time, we honored each other. I wish I could teach everyone to do that... with grace and compassion. He, as her husband, had the ultimate decision making power, and me, as her "ex step-daughter" had no legal rights, had it not been for a Health Care directive. At this time though, it wasn't about legality... we were a team. Fighting for the life that we so wanted to protect. I was honored and so grateful that he took my desires into consideration.
Other family members began showing up, her sister and sister in law, and her middle stepdaughter, Erin. We cried, we talked, we sat and waited. I decided that Di needed a pedicure. I had given her one approximately six months ago, right after her initial diagnosis.
March 2017- Di called me on her birthday right after they'd gotten home from the hospital to tell me that the ER doctor told her and Brad that she's in liver failure... that "she'd either need a transplant or it was just a matter of time". She told me she was scared. When I asked her if she wanted me to come visit, she said "yes, that would be nice" without a pause. That told me how truly scared she was. Later that day, I booked a flight for the following week. While there, we shopped for organic food, I cooked for her... all the healthy goodies she liked. We laid by the pool, we talked, we laughed and a few moments, we cried. At one point, I was sitting outside getting some sun and she came out and just stood there quietly. I asked her what was wrong and she started to cry, "I'm scared" she said. We hugged and she thanked me profusely for coming. The night before I left, we were working on a puzzle in the kitchen, and I decided, she needed a pedicure. So, we got a tub, I washed her feet, massaged them and painted her toes. She was beaming, and raving how sweet I was for days. <3
 |
| Di, me and Skylar June 2016 |
So, when my stepsister told me she was coming to Florida, was there anything we needed, I asked her to bring nail polish, and she did. As we were all sitting around Di's bedside, in the ICU, we decided it was time. She was unresponsive, we had all come to the realization that this was the end. This is our final goodbye. We put chap-stick on her very dry lips, massaged her hands, legs and feet with lotion and Erin and I painted her toes.
Saturday, September 23, 2017
Growing Up
My seventeen year old daughter walked into the living-room where my husband and I were relaxing watching a TV show at 11:30pm and asked me to tuck her in... Who can refuse that.
She has grown so much these past few years and I know that now, she is beginning to realize she is closer than ever to adulthood.
One minute she's in the throws of a year long romantic relationship, with a boy a couple years older who is already "adulting" for the most part. And the next minute shes whining "Mom, please just cuddle me, but don't breathe in my face. "
She's our baby, our youngest of three. We each came into the relationship with an existing child, so we have his, mine and ours... she is the ours. She's the one we thought we could protect, since she would only be with us. No back and forth from family to family every other weekend. She was the one we thought would be more self assured, coming from married parents that love each other as well as her. She is the one, nine years younger than her siblings, who they call spoiled rotten.
Her life, for the most part, has been fairly easy. Fairly. Structured and grounded, we have only lived in two homes since she was born. We live in a fairly small town with good neighbors. We have a close group of friends and a large loving close family and she is blessed with four sets of grandparents, the older kids even a few more.
Yet, there was nothing I could do to protect her from the harshness of the real world. As hard as I tried, I couldn't protect her from seeing her brother in teenage rages while she was so small.. I couldn't protect her from the yelling that took place when he and I would get into a battle while I was driving and she was in her car-seat in the back of our van.
I couldn't protect her from the grief she felt and was exposed to when our very close family friends lost their 17 year old daughter in an auto accident. I couldn't protect her from the shock, sadness and confusion when just a year later, our neighbor, the father of one of her closest friends at the time and her baby sitter, took his own life. These things are real, This is life.
I couldn't protect her from the hurt when her closest friend was pulled from school without explanation in seventh grade, and wasn't allowed to communicate with her for months. That was the first time I saw loss affect her wholly. She was hurting, the emotions were raw. I couldn't protect her a few years later when her best friend of three years decided upon starting their junior year of high school that she wanted to end the friendship... but didn't come straight out and tell her.
I couldn't protect her when anxiety and depression took over her body and soul and she made the decision that she wanted to end her life, but was too scared to tell us, her parents, because she didn't want to disappoint us. So, we found out through the school counselor and she was admitted to her first of five inpatient hospital stays.
I couldn't protect her when out of the blue, on Easter Sunday, while driving home from the cabin, anxiety took her body and mind over so much that she was in full psychosis. She was scared that something was trying to get her. At 16, I held my little girl and she thrashed about, having what we were told later, Non-epileptic seizures. She spent three months scared, as did we, unsure if she'd ever be the same again. In and out of doctors, hospitals, so much medication and no real answers. We pulled her from school because she said she'd spent an entire class hour looking behind her compulsively at what she thought was getting her. Finally, in the hospital, they took her off all of the med's and our pastors visited her and prayed hands on her. She was released days later and has been better ever since.
Life happens, shit happens, real, painful, awful, shit. and we can't, nor should we try to protect our children from it all. They need to know hurt to feel true happiness, they need to learn loss to really appreciate what and who they have.
She called me into her room a couple weeks ago, after her first day of college as a high school senior, and said, "Mom, I don't think you understand how much I appreciate you. You are the best mom ever and I am so lucky to have you and Dad." For most parents, they would be waiting for the catch, the big question, like... "will you give me a thousand dollars?" but not me. This is a conversation over the past year that I have gotten used to. Then she laid in bed and talked to me and cried, "When I'm living on my own, who will tuck me in. Who will make my food, who will put money in my lunch account?" She was sincerely overwhelmed by it all.
She has been through a lot in her seventeen years. Not a lot of self-inflicted pain, like many teenagers deal with like drug use, addiction and running away... and not a lot of chaos caused by parents that many kids experience, like divorce and fighting and job loss and homelessness. She has though been through the emotional roller coaster of life, and as sensitive as she is, she has felt it all fully.
So, when I see the glimpse of the woman shes blossoming into, when I see the angsty teen at times, and when I get to snuggle my fully grown baby girl as she falls asleep dealing with her emotions of the day, I appreciate it. I enjoy it... I revel in it.
She said to me tonight, "only six more months mom, and I will be an adult and will be on my own.."I know her mind is feeling the excitement as well as the fear of the reality of that. I reminded her, "You know, you can live here for a while longer and go to college locally." "Yeah" she says, "but I don't want to, I want to experience real college life"
I cherish these moments. I have loved every age she has been, and I love that my baby girl is getting ready to attack the world with her independence, yet, she is still willing to cuddle with her Momma and share her fears as well as her dreams. I thank God daily for all three of my kids, my grand-babies and my husband. Today, I am feeling the reality of a new chapter in our lives as parents.
When asked if I'm going to be sad as an empty-nester, I say "Hell No!" I have been a parent longer than I have been an adult! My husband and I don't know life with each other without having kids. In the back of my mind though, I am scared. I am scared she might not need me anymore and scared of the day she no longer wants to be tucked in and cuddled... by me.
*Note - This was written almost a year ago...
Today, she's fully experiencing college/dorm life at a private college in Iowa. Takes me half a day to drive there... and today, more than ever, she's my support and confidante as I am her safe place to process life, when she has time.
She has grown so much these past few years and I know that now, she is beginning to realize she is closer than ever to adulthood.
One minute she's in the throws of a year long romantic relationship, with a boy a couple years older who is already "adulting" for the most part. And the next minute shes whining "Mom, please just cuddle me, but don't breathe in my face. "
She's our baby, our youngest of three. We each came into the relationship with an existing child, so we have his, mine and ours... she is the ours. She's the one we thought we could protect, since she would only be with us. No back and forth from family to family every other weekend. She was the one we thought would be more self assured, coming from married parents that love each other as well as her. She is the one, nine years younger than her siblings, who they call spoiled rotten.
Her life, for the most part, has been fairly easy. Fairly. Structured and grounded, we have only lived in two homes since she was born. We live in a fairly small town with good neighbors. We have a close group of friends and a large loving close family and she is blessed with four sets of grandparents, the older kids even a few more.
Yet, there was nothing I could do to protect her from the harshness of the real world. As hard as I tried, I couldn't protect her from seeing her brother in teenage rages while she was so small.. I couldn't protect her from the yelling that took place when he and I would get into a battle while I was driving and she was in her car-seat in the back of our van.
I couldn't protect her from the grief she felt and was exposed to when our very close family friends lost their 17 year old daughter in an auto accident. I couldn't protect her from the shock, sadness and confusion when just a year later, our neighbor, the father of one of her closest friends at the time and her baby sitter, took his own life. These things are real, This is life.
I couldn't protect her from the hurt when her closest friend was pulled from school without explanation in seventh grade, and wasn't allowed to communicate with her for months. That was the first time I saw loss affect her wholly. She was hurting, the emotions were raw. I couldn't protect her a few years later when her best friend of three years decided upon starting their junior year of high school that she wanted to end the friendship... but didn't come straight out and tell her.
I couldn't protect her when anxiety and depression took over her body and soul and she made the decision that she wanted to end her life, but was too scared to tell us, her parents, because she didn't want to disappoint us. So, we found out through the school counselor and she was admitted to her first of five inpatient hospital stays.
I couldn't protect her when out of the blue, on Easter Sunday, while driving home from the cabin, anxiety took her body and mind over so much that she was in full psychosis. She was scared that something was trying to get her. At 16, I held my little girl and she thrashed about, having what we were told later, Non-epileptic seizures. She spent three months scared, as did we, unsure if she'd ever be the same again. In and out of doctors, hospitals, so much medication and no real answers. We pulled her from school because she said she'd spent an entire class hour looking behind her compulsively at what she thought was getting her. Finally, in the hospital, they took her off all of the med's and our pastors visited her and prayed hands on her. She was released days later and has been better ever since.
Life happens, shit happens, real, painful, awful, shit. and we can't, nor should we try to protect our children from it all. They need to know hurt to feel true happiness, they need to learn loss to really appreciate what and who they have.
She called me into her room a couple weeks ago, after her first day of college as a high school senior, and said, "Mom, I don't think you understand how much I appreciate you. You are the best mom ever and I am so lucky to have you and Dad." For most parents, they would be waiting for the catch, the big question, like... "will you give me a thousand dollars?" but not me. This is a conversation over the past year that I have gotten used to. Then she laid in bed and talked to me and cried, "When I'm living on my own, who will tuck me in. Who will make my food, who will put money in my lunch account?" She was sincerely overwhelmed by it all.
She has been through a lot in her seventeen years. Not a lot of self-inflicted pain, like many teenagers deal with like drug use, addiction and running away... and not a lot of chaos caused by parents that many kids experience, like divorce and fighting and job loss and homelessness. She has though been through the emotional roller coaster of life, and as sensitive as she is, she has felt it all fully.
So, when I see the glimpse of the woman shes blossoming into, when I see the angsty teen at times, and when I get to snuggle my fully grown baby girl as she falls asleep dealing with her emotions of the day, I appreciate it. I enjoy it... I revel in it.
She said to me tonight, "only six more months mom, and I will be an adult and will be on my own.."I know her mind is feeling the excitement as well as the fear of the reality of that. I reminded her, "You know, you can live here for a while longer and go to college locally." "Yeah" she says, "but I don't want to, I want to experience real college life"
I cherish these moments. I have loved every age she has been, and I love that my baby girl is getting ready to attack the world with her independence, yet, she is still willing to cuddle with her Momma and share her fears as well as her dreams. I thank God daily for all three of my kids, my grand-babies and my husband. Today, I am feeling the reality of a new chapter in our lives as parents.
When asked if I'm going to be sad as an empty-nester, I say "Hell No!" I have been a parent longer than I have been an adult! My husband and I don't know life with each other without having kids. In the back of my mind though, I am scared. I am scared she might not need me anymore and scared of the day she no longer wants to be tucked in and cuddled... by me.
*Note - This was written almost a year ago...
Today, she's fully experiencing college/dorm life at a private college in Iowa. Takes me half a day to drive there... and today, more than ever, she's my support and confidante as I am her safe place to process life, when she has time.
Friday, February 5, 2016
Standing Tall
I wonder the things he has seen
Standing so tall and broken
Arms outstretched to the skies
Roots deep within the cool soil
The pock marks cover his flesh
From the years of being beaten by the
elements
I wonder the things he has seen
The storms in his life he has faced
But still…
Still he stands tall
Arms outstretched to the heavens
Thankful every day for life
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)