The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is BLOOM
Where we live, this is definitely the season for blooming. Flowering trees and shrubs, including the chokecherries in the woods beside us, are blossoming in preparation for another summer of production. Spring bulbs are blooming; gardeners are setting out bedding plants.
However, my mind went to another kind of blooming. I’m sure you all have stood on a sunny day and watched the cumulus clouds above you expand and change.
I have, and I find observing that process of change fascinating. Before my eyes they seem to bloom. Little white lumps spreading up and out — it’s like watching the time-lapse of a cauliflower developing.
Thoughts are like that in a way — at least mine are. I see a writing prompt and ideas start to form. This morning I chanced to hear another blogger and fellow Christian speaking about the importance of sharing facets of godly wisdom by means of storytelling, and brainwaves started to billow. (Click here to listen to his inspiring talk.)
Thinking of sharing our inspirations, and how ideas and wisdom circulate, I wrote this verse two days ago:
She left a thought that echoed;
her friends bounced it around.
It wasn’t meant to shake the world
but still it seemed profound.
It resonated with her friends
and spread from ear to ear;
whenever it seemed fitting
someone was bound to hear.
It spread to their descendants
this bit of wisdom kind;
it lightened many labors,
eased many a troubled mind.
They were not so outstanding,
those words that soothed one fretter,
but her homespun bit of wisdom
made all our lives the better.
Take care everyone, and don’t be afraid to share your bit of life-learned wisdom today. Who knows but what it may bless many other lives.
Good morning everyone,
The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is ROSY HUES
I arose just before 6 am this morning, but the rosy hues of dawn were long gone. The sky was bright, the birds going about their business, and the temp was just above freezing. But the predicted high is 25 C and the sky is blue above us: the makings of a warm spring day.
Perhaps the prompt-giver was thinking of other ROSY HUES — figurative ones — which I also thought of this morning. A few days ago my husband informed me his favorite book store in the city plans to open next week, along with other stores. Access limited to fifteen people at a time, but still.. The dawning of a new era.
one by one restrictions lift
people begin to breathe
to move about, to gather
cautiously at first
stores open their doors
employees take their places
the world faces a new dawn
its rosy hues
still in the distance
Stumbling in the gray
tripping over furniture,
attitudes and platitudes;
searching for one little light
to dispel the darkness
I’ve heard folks talk about
the brightness of sunshine,
so warm, so cheering.
And I have a dim memory
of days I walked, ran —
even laughed — in the sun.
When did it cease to exist,
hide itself behind the squall?
Now I pray for one match
and a candle—just one light —
to find my way through
this engulfing gray cloud.
Unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul.
O my God, I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed,
let not mine enemies triumph over me.
Lead me in thy truth, and teach me:
for thou art the God of my salvation;
on thee do I wait all the day. Remember, O Lord,
thy tender mercies and thy loving-kindnesses;
for they have been ever of old.
— Psalm 25:1-6
Yesterday we as a family gathered to say our last good-bye to our sister Rose. Our son-in-law and daughter drove us down for the Celebration of Life, which was held at Moose Jaw. This was directed by a Celebrant who read the write-up of her life the family had written out. Then her oldest daughter came to the mike and read her memories of Mom, at times with a smile and at times pausing while the tear flowed.
I learned some interesting things I hadn’t known about my sister, including the fact that she and her husband met on a blind date set up by friends. She was only fifteen-and-a-half but it must have been love at first sight. Only six weeks later he popped the question in a unique way, simply telling her, “There’s something on the kitchen table for you.” She went to look, saw the small box and said, “YES!”
After the service there were hugs and tears and a lunch at the reception hall, where a video was shown. This was a collage of photos of her life and some of those photos brought me to tears. I remember those years, the little girl in some of those pictures.
Watching the years of her life pass in flickers on the screen was hard in a way, because she’s so alive in those scenes. You want to pull her back! There were a few snaps of her childhood and teen years, some from her wedding day. I saw a few showing some of us siblings together, a couple showing our parents, us as a family together at her house after our dad’s funeral. These were interspersed with many pictures of them as a young couple, growing older, travelling. We saw her two daughters at birth, as teens, their weddings, then them as parents; with many shots of the extended family and/or Rose holding and playing with her grandchildren. A lifetime well lived and enjoyed.
As I’ve already said, Rose was the only sibling I’ve had steady contact with through the years; the others I met more often in passing at functions. I will definitely miss her and that continuing family contact.
Perhaps because of those pictures, last night life as a whole took on a dream-like feeling. This present life seems like a flowing stream of incidents, scenes viewed from a train window as we speed through time. The world waiting on the other side seems like the true solid ground.
I’ve a cousin who says there’s no life beyond this one. You die; that’s it. Lights out. As a Christian I accept the Bible teaching on Heaven, but most people of various faiths do believe in, or at least hope for, a land of peace and light on the other side. People who have been revived after clinical death claim to have experienced some life after their last breath. All hallucinations?
At the service we were told that Rose definitely believed in a life after this one. The names of other family members were mentioned, people Rose would be meeting and joining over there. As the poet, Fanny Crosby, wrote, “Oh, the dear ones in glory how they beckon me to come, and their parting at the river I recall.”
After the lunch, siblings and spouses of Rose and her husband, their daughters and families, had a little service at the crematorium. Another round of tears and hugs, then her ashes were left there and we joined the extended family members at a lunch at her oldest daughter’s home. So now the day is over, except for the quiet grieving we’ll all go through.
ONE BROKEN DREAM
by Edgar Guest
One broken dream is not the end of dreaming,
One shattered hope is not the end of all,
Beyond the storm and tempest stars are gleaming,
Still build your castles, though your castles fall.
Though many dreams come tumbling in disaster,
And pain and heartache meet us down the years,
Still keep your faith, your dreams and hopes to master
And seek to find the lesson of your tears.
Not all is as it should be! See how littered
With sorry wreckage is life’s restless stream.
Some dreams are vain, but be you not embittered
And never cry that you have ceased to dream!
From the book, Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest,
©1934 by the Reilly & Lee Company
The Ragtag Daily Prompt word this morning was BROKEN.