Stories and Gooseberries

 I teach horseback riding lessons.  To be honest, though, I sometimes dread teaching.   I dread the idea of my horse getting scared and tossing a kid, causing either physical pain or emotional torment as they experience possibly the scariest moment of their little lives.  I dread the idea of a child not understanding what I'm trying to explain or perhaps not picking up the sport as quickly as they had hoped, and then becoming frustrated and wanting to quit.  I sometimes just dread having to socialize and be cheery on a day when I'm simply not in the mood.  And sometimes, I just dread having to share my horses at all, because I really just want to enjoy them myself.  But in reality, while horseback riding is one of the hardest sports to teach, it's also one of the most rewarding. I get to watch as children grow in confidence and physical strength.  I get to take part in pushing kids outside of their comfort zone and into a challenge.  I g...

I always like to call you to share my joys and my sadness, so you can rejoice and pray with me and share in my sorrow and my gladness. You always pick up or call me right back, and we share with each other what's new. We laugh and cry and talk and pray, and you tell me a story or a few. I've got something to tell you, something exciting, that will fill you with glee! It's what we've all been praying for! I can imagine how happy you'll be! But now, you see, you're no longer there to pick up the phone and say,  "Well, hello there, my favorite girl! Tell me something good today!" Someday I'll get to see you again, but we sure won't need a phone. Heaven has no need for such, as everyone there is already home! So I'll meet you up in heaven someday, and I'll catch you up on years gone by. We'll sit down by that river up there and talk and laugh until we cry. Grandmac, how I miss you, how I wish you were still there. I miss our chats, our ...

What's a poem if it does not rhyme? What's a poem if you can't count the time? Not every poem must have a beat, To be considered truly sublime. Indeed, a poem might simply be a list of words that beautifully express the feelings of the heart and the thoughts of the mind. Perhaps a poem rhymes and sounds just like a song, where the soul is pouring out what it longs for. Perhaps a poem sounds like an essay, filled with profound words of wisdom, where the mind is sorting thoughts and making sense of things. A poem doesn't have to rhyme. A poem doesn't have to count to time. Not every poem must have a beat to be considered truly sublime. A poem. A poem is where the thoughts flow freely, where emotions run wild, where feelings come together and make more sense in the end. A poem is word art. The artist paints with words, rather than color. But just like color spreads over a canvas, so do words over a page, forming a picture for the viewer to understand the creator more. ...

 I love traditions.  Or perhaps I hate change. As a child, I loved the rhythm of holidays.  Our family had the holiday rhythm down.  We made it to see both sides of the family, even the extended family, sometimes stretching our holidays to 2 or 3 different houses, but somehow, the day never felt rushed or chaotic.  Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter were always filled with good food, great fun, and of course our big Southern family.  There were cousins and grandparents and aunts and uncles.  There were desserts of all kinds, charades and other games, someone playing the piano, wholesome conversations, you name it.  The holiday satisfied all of the senses.  Then, we moved.  From Virginia to Arizona, my little Southern family of four established roots in the desert.  I was so sad, knowing we would have to rethink our holiday traditions.  The rhythm of holidays had to change.  Sure, we still had the special church services a...