The warmth

As a child this scene was so familiar. A glowing fireplace shared with the season of Christmas. How often I would lie in front of it and reflect on my world. It was with great delight that I stayed right there, very still, and absorbed the warmth.

(A re-post from December 2010)

Whooo, did what?

First draft; only draft... letting my blogger pals know that my world feels a bit smaller. I'm just going to type whatever comes to mind and then leave it here. This too shall pass.

I think most of you know my husband and I are divorcing. That's okay, we weren't close for the past ten years. The hard part, the devastating part is looking at photos of the nieces and nephews I may never see again. That part of my family that came with him. Watching them all grow up and now hearing each having a child... so much loss... I have no words.

My own family is so at odds, it's ridiculous. Since my Dad's death, over a year ago, the greed has amazed me. I truly do not know my family. And I'm not surprised then that they don't know me. It's taken a great deal of prayers to keep me from not speaking too much of my mind. I'd rather not react in anger, but there are times I'm finding that a "bold word" is necessary.

Mostly I'm content. I've learned that reaching out to others brings me more joy than I already have. I went to my Godmother's home and helped her daughter begin the process of emptying it. My Godmother died about five months ago. I know too well about removing things of another. I asked my own God-daughter to come with me. Together we got this wonderful woman to begin a healing process; something she needed; something we felt that God sent us to assist with.

There's a person I'd like to get closer to... but it's like a dog chasing a car... LOL. What would I do if I caught it? Dogs can't drive. If I don't know enough, to venture out, then oops, I'd better rethink my actions. It would seem I'm getting older and more cautious.

I suppose 'southern women' would call my writing, "airing my dirty laundry"... but I know my blog pals. If there's any good advice they will step forward to lend a hand or offer good thoughts. It's a blessing to me.

Okay, that's enough for now; hopefully for a great while... at least two days!!!

Have a great weekend, everyone.

Dixie

What gift will you keep?

What gift will you keep for the rest of your life? Did someone give you a special train, building blocks, or a warm hug on Christmas morn?


Is there a gift you leave in the box it came in and carry it wherever you go? Did you also keep the ribbon and paper that surrounded it?


Did you hear of a child born long ago who volunteered to make a better way? Did you believe that, or like the “Santa myth”, toss it out when things didn't go your way?


Long after stores stop the pressure to buy their stuff, will you remember it was all about the birth of a king? Did you take them up on all of their sales? Maybe you think the king owed a bigger discount; most everyone went to 50% off early in the season.

Why in the world would three wise men follow a star for two years? What gift did they hope to find? And did they keep the gift? History and now archeology say they did.


I don't know if I'm helping or hurting... but for me the gift to keep is love.


But I'm curious... what has been your favorite gift? Do you still keep it safe within your heart... or on a shelf in the dark?

Gifts

For Christmas?

I would love to have some shoes but I really want a hat.
And~ a doll with red-blond hair but my brother wants a bat.

So if I can have the shoes and a single pair of socks,
give the bat to my brother 'cause to him, this means a lot.

*      *     *



Dedicated to The Thompson Children's Orphanage,
Charlotte, NC

Collating

Santa and Jesus come each year.

I always have to cheer.

The big guy's fat; the baby's dear.

Love for the little one, Santa's feared.

Santa's what I fear, he might withhold my toys.

Shhh, the babe is making noise.

The star on high is poised.

But I hear Santa's voice.

Our chimney is nice and clean

as Santa makes the scene.

While Herald angels sing,

To announce the new born king.

My confusion has me blind

To the life that could be mine

If not for Christmas time

I'd hear the church bells chime.

But who can let him go?

That man that lives in snow.

The “good and bad” he knows,

Trumps the swaddling clothes?

At the age of nine I see,

That Santa's “make-believe”.

I feel the need to grieve,

A story that deceives.

I search for answers all around,

As Santa's sleigh dives to the ground.

The babe grows up and love abounds.

He looked for me 'til I was found.

~dcrelief~ December 2011