My heart

Ashley and Morgan; then and now

Ashley and Morgan; then and now

Chubby little hands, wet with slobber, getting caught in my hair

Up half the night rocking you with a prayer until the fever subsided

Chasing remnants of applesauce around your tiny lips with a tiny spoon

The spoon, now airborne and not because I’m pretending it’s a plane

Bath time;  soggy toys, towels and floors until you were like ten

Drying a wiggle worm until the towel drops and you run away giggling

Treating Boo boos with kisses and rug rat bandages and Neosporin

Riding bicycles and scooters and go karts and four-wheelers

Going to Little league, Church camp, school plays and sleepovers

Checking out library books and Disney movies and The Nutcracker

Reminding daily about baths and brushing teeth and hair

Blond hair whipping in the wind as we caught our share of fish

Driving cars and blasting music and growing up too fast

Never-ending showers that leave the rest of us mad and cold

Little Miss Know It All who doesn’t really have a clue

Late nights, some fights, long talks and lots of prayers

High school, sports, dances and dates

Increasing beauty, decreasing days before graduation and then…..

Empty nest, quiet house, too much time on our hands

Phone calls, holiday visits and lots of texts

Agree to disagree, offer advice but realize my limits

Heart breaks when you feel pain or struggle

Loving you long distance, looking forward to your next visit

Missing you, lots of reminiscing, tears and prayers

Eat the dessert



The Prompt:  Fill in the blank: “Life is too short to _____.” Now, write a post telling us how you’ve come to that conclusion.

Life is too short to turn down dessert.

And shouldn’t be spent nursing a hurt.

Life is too short to go to bed mad.

Wouldn’t you rather spend more of it glad?

Life is too short for holding on to a grudge.

Just let it go; don’t be too stubborn to budge?

Life is too short for refusing to grin.

Hold your head high and stop dragging your chin.

Life is too short to worry and fret.

It won’t change the outcome, on that I would bet.

Life is too short not to love and to pray.

We don’t know the hour, it could be over today.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Leftovers

Old journal

The largest dresser, in the drawer on the bottom

The boxes stacked neatly on the closet floor

Places filled with items, some yellowed and musty

Leftovers, from a time long before

Every now and then we search for and peruse them

The old, worn and frayed, the tattered and torn

Memories of past times, the good and the bad ones

Some make us laugh and some make us mourn

One day we may find the strength to go through them

Purge some of the junk, yes, surely we will

How will we choose those which still hold the power?

To take us to a place where time seems to stand still

These things are left over from days of our lives

Moments that will never return

Unless we relive them by basking in the memories

Things that reveal stories that make our heart yearn

For a time or a place, or a person we long

As we study these treasures we cache

Memories kept alive that might otherwise fade

If we merely threw them out in the trash

By:  Lisa

Weekly writing Challenge

Weekly Writing Challenge: Power of Names


This week’s challenge was to explore the power of names.  My offering is a silly poem about all of my names and who uses them.  Hope you enjoy!

My given name is Lisa which I’ve answered to since birth

My mom and dad selected whilst I still enlarged her girth

Although they thought it so unique, there are thousands with the same

But even though quite common, I rather like my name

The next name I remember, my sister gave to me

I guess Lisa was difficult so she settled on sissy

To this day she calls me sissy, and it always makes me grin

I guess it has the power to transport me way back when

My grandparents all called me sugar, which I thought was pretty sweet

My mom teased me with Liza Jane, I begged her, “don’t repeat!”

Granny Goff sometimes yelled Lee-Si-O when calling me inside

No one else used that name and for that I’m much obliged

The first time I heard mommy, my heart likely skipped a beat

Then there were days when mommy seemed to be stuck on repeat

My husband mostly calls me babe, or love, or just “my wife”

He’s careful, which is good because I am keeping him for life!

The only name that I’ve left out, I’ve struggled with til’ now

My youngest and her friends call me Moo.  Yes! Just like a cow.

Actually, the names I’ve shared with you, the ones in lines above

Are fine with me because I know they’re spoken with true love

A day on the boat


Boating out on waves of blue

Sun shines brightly over you

Clouds are wafting slowly by

Alone, just my man and I

We find the hole he thinks is hot

Kill the engine and pick our spot

Throw the line in, wait a bit

Feel the tug, feel the hit

Set the hook and reel it in

Bait it, throw it out again

Fishing with my love is fun

Plenty to eat when the day is done

I am mom

Dearest Mother BIG tag

Dearest Mother BIG tag (Photo credit: AForestFrolic)

From the time you see that soft, wiggly, bawling baby, you fall in love.  You become a fierce protector.  You are mom.  This tiny gift from heaven rocks your world and melts your heart.

You vow she will always be safe in your arms, sheltered by your love, kept far away from all evil and danger.  She needs you.

She will be given every opportunity, receive plenty of praise and encouragement along with proper discipline and instruction.

As the years go marching by in this journey, you stumble, yes you even fall a time or two, but you do your best.  You learn quickly that this thing called parenting is no easy feat.  Your best isn’t perfect, but you never give up.  You defend, you teach, your love grows deeper.

She drives you crazy sometimes.  She reminds you of when you were that age.  She makes you want to tell your mom you’re sorry again.

She grows up overnight and it seems she doesn’t need you as much anymore.   Thankfully, she still calls and asks your advice.  She doesn’t always take it.  You probably drive her crazy sometimes.  You have dreams and goals and hopes for her.  She has different ones, but you will love her anyway.

Your love grows ever deeper and she returns that love.  She begins to realize that you often make sense and tells you so.  You watch her become more like you in many ways.  You become one of her closest confidantes.

She’s not perfect; she stumbles and yes, even falls sometimes, but she gets right back up. You are her biggest fan and you secretly hope she got that tenacity from you.

Your role as a parent never ends; it merely changes.  You continue to pray that as the years pass and you both continue to grow older, that you are always what she needs you to be.  You are mom.

Grateful always


The sun will soon rise, on this Thanksgiving Day

I’m up with my coffee, to read and to pray

The oven is buzzing, time to take out the yams

Next on my list, replace them with the ham

Ham is now cooking, time to start fudge

On Mom’s recipe card, an old chocolate smudge

This makes me smile and happy memories recall

Family cooking, playing, laughing and having a ball

The fudge turns out nicely, you never can tell

About half the time, my fudge is a fail

My phone begins ringing, my girls on the line

They will be missed this year, those daughters of mine

Topping fudge with pecans and peeking through oven door

My fuzzy socks dancing on my kitchen floor

Dancing with joy, Macy’s parade on t.v.

For all this and more, I am thankful you see

Green bean casserole is next and then my part is done

Then, it’s off to my sisters for more family and fun

This day a reminder to show gratitude always

Every day of the year, not just on Thanksgiving day

Weekly Writing Challenge: Haiki #2


Warm sand between toes

Ocean waves lull me to sleep

Ouch, more sunblock please

Haiku: Weekly Writing Challenge

Fluttering soundless

Colorful wings move with grace

Quiet as they feast

If I were a turkey

Turkey Lurkey says...

Turkey Lurkey says… (Photo credit: jelene)

If I were a turkey I’d start training in April

to keep from becoming a Thanksgiving staple

In May you would catch me honing my skill

on how to avoid those missiles that kill

There’d be classes on dodging a sharpshooter’s aim

and how to outrun those arrows that maim

In June I would learn how to camo my feathers

 and to quickly blend in no matter terrain or weather

In July and August under hot scorching sun,

the training would continue, none of it fun.

In September things would get really hard

This is the month I am banned from the yard

Any fat has to go, that fact remains,

No more picking at insects or gorging on grains.

October would bring full starvation mode for me

I can’t afford to look at all healthy you see

When the dreaded month arrives, if I’ve escaped the fate of many,

you would think I could relax and enjoy and eat plenty

But no!  December looms as dark as the winter,

and there are some who would have me for their Christmas dinner.

So still I’ll lie low and eat less than I desire,

to keep myself, another year from the fire.

In January I will gobble and let down my guard

and enjoy my dinner and prance through the yard.

~Yes!  Another Turkey!

~Yes! Another Turkey! (Photo credit: ~Sage~)

By  Lisa

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