Not Today

Not Today

Lemon daffodil sunshine
Crayon blue skies
Pale rose tinged clouds
And lark song greet the sunrise
The world is awaking…

But as I stare out the window
After a long, dark night
Feeling the unspoken fear
Of unfulfilled promises
I turn away from the light…

Too many times
My butterfly hopes have faded
With a final flutter
Over the wishful horizon

They disappeared…

So just for today
I close the curtains
And burrow down
In the blue shadows
To hide my heart away…

Tomorrow will come
With bright hope renewed
But today I hush the world
To find the inner strength
To try again…

Photo by Anthony Tran on Unsplash

Reverie

wishing (2)I stand at my window
Studying the elusive stars
In a moonless sky
Listening to the silence
Of a sleeping world
Cradling wishing dust in my hand
In simple innocence
I close my eyes…

I am wrapped in your arms
Resting my head
Against the strength of your heart
Content in our joy
Stillness in the moment
Feeling without saying
Knowing without words
Loving in silent rhyme…

I open my eyes…
I stand alone at the window
Fairy dust clenched in my fingers
I slowly let it go
Whispering the closely held wishes
Of a lonely heart
I watch it disappear into the stars
Still quietly hoping…

Clarity

Clarity

Several faces cross my mind
Memories of dried up wishes
Daydream bouquets wilted
Another handful of dry petals
Blowing away as I toss them
Into the cold spring wind…

March lions hail down
Pellets of frozen ice
Winds slice through my armor
another false disguise
Pulling my coat closer feeling resigned
I turn and bump into you.

A flash of immortal fire
splits the darkening skies

Two souls find each other
through the meeting of startled eyes
And suddenly with a lightning view
I realize in all of those confusing faces…
I was searching for you.

Reunion

Reunion

I knew you a long time ago…
When spirit touched spirit
And our minds were intertwined
There were no obstacles
Such as distance
Or baggage
Or heartbreak…
There was just us
Believing we could fight the world
To find each other again

It was simple…
Before life interfered
And we found ourselves
Far from each other
With a veiled mind
And no remembrance of carefree days
Running through the stars
Nor the tender promises
Two innocent souls had made

Years have passed…
And time has mellowed my heartache
But I still wait for you
For our breathless reunion
When with a hesitant glance
Our eyes will meet
Our spirits will touch
The flame will rekindle
And we will smile
Remembering just a glimpse
Of eternity…

Another Auld Lang Syne

Another Auld Lang Syne

Glancing through old photos
I found one of you.
One that I had forgotten…
And I quietly withdrew
The ache surprised me…
I had not expected
That familiar twinge
Nor the silent tears

One photo…
Memories of laughter
and tender plans
of a woman in love
With an unforgettable man
A reminder of a pipe dream
that was just a mirage
A memory of love
That was only mine…

I know I have been consigned
To the distant corners
Of your heedless mind
I’m just another woman
In your long line of hopefuls
Just another distraction.
Just another wasted attraction
Just another faded illusion
Just another so-called friend…

Unable to throw your photo away
It gets packed for another day
When my heart is healed
and I close that door
When the sweetness
of your embraces

Don’t hurt anymore
When I am strong enough
To finally forget…
You will be nothing more
Than another Auld Lang Syne.

Holding Up the Light – An Allegory

Holding Up the Light – An Allegory

She stood on the rocky beach holding up the lantern as the brilliant sunset faded into pale memories. It’s warm flame cast a pleasant light over her as she waited. He had said he would come. She believed that he would, but as night drew closer, she began to doubt.

She searched the horizon but saw nothing as the twilight slowly dissolved into darkness. The warm breezes that had danced along the shores during the day turned cooler and began to hint of rain. She could see storm clouds in the distance. Still…she did not move. She held onto the light.

As the rain began to fall, she could feel the cold settling in. Would he see it? Would he see her light among the others on the coast? How would he find her among the lights of the towns and homes that spread for miles? How would he see her small lamp, held close to her heart while she shivered on the shore?

The tide started to come in and the large rocky beach began to disappear as she backed towards the cliff walls. She had nowhere to go, for if she gave up and left, he would never find her. It was then the first, large cold wave washed over her. It took her breath away and she gasped. She shivered and the light wavered as she stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. The light sputtered in the lantern and almost went out. She looked up at the edge of the dark horizon and the lantern lying on its side and began to wonder if she shouldn’t give up.

“Not yet,” she whispered. Cautiously, she reached over and picked the light up. Pushing against the sharp rocks which cut marks in her legs and hands, she stood up. The light had partially dimmed, but it still burned. She held it close to her body to warm herself, careful not to cover the light completely. Shaken, but determined to not give up, she stood still and scanned the horizon. He was still not to be seen.

As the night wore on, icy waves continued to knock her to the ground as the cold rain pelted. Tears mixed with salt water. She was now numb from the cold and exhaustion, yet she picked herself up every time and stood her ground. Maybe he would not come. Maybe she had waited all this time for nothing. She felt foolish for continuing to wait, but something inside her heart told her not to leave. Not to give up.

It was in the fourth watch of the night that her hand dropped with the lantern at her side. She could not go on. She had given everything she had. She dropped to her knees and let the tears flow as she stared aimlessly at the horizon empty with despair. She had held on for so long…

It was then the spark of light in the distance caught her eye. She stared at it, not really believing it was meant for her. Yet, within a few minutes, the light grew larger and closer. Could it be…? She almost couldn’t breathe. Struggling to stand up one more time, she lifted the lantern high above her head with a spark of hope. The light on the small boat became clear and with it, she heard his voice calling over the waves. Miracle though it seemed, he had found her light. He had found her.

Her sailor had come home.

Of Castles, Weddings and Fairies…

Of Castles, Weddings and Fairies…

‘Tis time! ‘Tis time!
They gleefully cried
And the medieval muses 
rushed to my side…

Gather round my friends
and ye shall hear
Of Melissa’s adventures
Both far and near

Of enchanted castles
And storybook tales
of mystical fairies
And love that never fails…

I couldn’t resist the storybook poetic beginning. England just seems to bring it out of me. I think Shakespeare would have been proud, don’t you?  Ha!

I’m finally getting around to writing about some of my other adventures in my brief sojourn to Brockenhurst.  This time we visit a country manor (a castle in my opinion), stumble upon a fairy tale wedding, and I even captured a photo of a fairy!  (It looks like one to me anyway.)

20191108_122236_HDROn a cool, rainy November day, I visited nearby Rhinefield House. Driving up a one lane road, the stunning scenery was lined with ancient oak trees in their prime of autumn colors.  Then the car turned the corner and the castle came into view.  Catching my breath, I just uttered “Wow!” This old castle turned hotel was the epitome of elegance and refinement with years of history around every corner.

Though it was closed when I visited, the Alhambra Room is an artistic masterpiece and the story goes that a woman had it built for her husband as a smoking room.  She wanted him to be able to smoke in luxury.  I think she achieved her aim, don’t you?  (Ah the whims of the wildly wealthy…)RHI-Alhambra

Of course, such a place is a magnet for weddings and there was one in preparation the day I visited.  I peeked in the medieval banquet hall to take a photo and was stunned by the wedding cake in the opposite corner.  No that’s not a fake photo…the cake was about 10 feet tall.  I’m only in the picture so you can judge by my height ( a mere 5’4).  Complete with waterfall, I decided that it must have belonged to a fairytale princess.  It just seemed like it should belong to royalty.  In fact, the whole room seemed to have an enchanted glow about it as I gazed on it from above.  

The wedding cake 20191108_120940_HDR

From the grand interior, I exited to silently stroll around the considerable and beautiful grounds…fountains, ponds, autumn arbors and open vistas graced every turn.

20191108_122225_HDRFountainsArbor at Rhinefield

Even an old, hidden door beckoned one to secrets that lay beyond…

20191108_123526_HDR

But time was waning and the secrets of the old castle would have to wait for another day.  Perhaps someday I will return…only destiny knows, but with so much country left to explore, it will likely be just another memory tucked away into my love affair with England.

And what of fairies?  On a cold, early Sunday morning as I was making my way across the fields towards the train station, I stopped in awe as the sunrise seemed to catch the light of every dewdrop and turned the whole glittering scene into a magical panorama.  I had to take several pictures.

While going back through them, I found something I had not seen when I took the photo.  If you look on the path, you will notice a small blue light.  To me, it looked just like a blue fairy.  Had I just stumbled upon her as she was finishing her morning rounds of painting each blade of grass with dew?  Who knows?  Choose to believe what you will, but while visiting England, magic found me and with it, I found childlike wonder in the every day.

So closes this 2nd chapter of my adventures in Brockenhurst.  Will there be more?  Yes, for the muses tell me there must be.  The magic must be shared… 🙂

The Blue Fairy

 

Christmas: A Season of Hope

Christmas: A Season of Hope

When I originally started my blog, it was a way to practice my descriptive writing. I never expected anyone to read it nor that it would develop into what it has. But as each inspired piece of writing has come out of me, I realized that most of what I wrote was about Hope.  As I have come through this 8 year journey since I began my blog, I have found many ways to endure difficult times and crises in small, everyday ways.

Every year for the past 9 years, I have had the same Christmas wish.  I won’t reveal what that is, because it’s too personal to me, but I will say that it has not yet happened. Yet every Christmas finds me gazing on that one star and making that one whispered wish.  Why?  Because Christmas is the season of Hope.  Hope that those promises made to us long ago will come to pass.  Hope that when we wake on that sacred day, that we will find some hint of our most treasured and beautiful desires coming true.

There are times I feel that it will never happen.  I lose faith…I lose hope.  Yes, it’s ironic that the woman who writes about hope sometimes feels it slipping away from her.  But we are all human, we all have our good and bad days.  And had I never experienced disappointment, how could I know the joy that comes from a hope fulfilled?

I can say that every time I come to the end of my rope, something happens to give me the strength to keep going.  It might be as small as a hug to something as large as an unexpected financial gift, but whatever it is, I see it as Heavenly Father’s way of saying “I’m aware of you, little one.  I know you’re struggling, but I am here.  I will not fail you. Be still and know that I am God.”

So here I am…still and quiet, listening, waiting and yes…hoping.

Merry Christmas my beautiful friends! May you all find your dearest hopes come to pass this New Year…

 

A Humbling Lesson in Gratitude

A Humbling Lesson in Gratitude

So yesterday, I was having a bit of a Grinch moment.  I was frustrated about several things and then while trying to go somewhere last night, my car got stuck in a snowbank in my driveway.  Frustrated and upset and tired of not having a significant other to help out, I slammed the door and went inside and decided to deal with it the next morning.  About 8:30 pm, I received a text from my landlady upstairs stating that someone was shoveling out my car.  I went up and it was my wonderful neighbor.  He had shoveled my entire driveway and then he helped me to get my car out of the snowbank.

Feeling very grateful to him and a bit embarrassed about my earlier complaints, I went back inside.  As I laid down, I pondered about many things in my life until I finally fell asleep.  It was then I had a humbling dream. I dreamt that I was getting ready to move to another city with my sister and my Dad and some other members of the family.  We were all going to leave at a specific time.  I had to run an errand to another section of town and promised I would be back before they all left.

This is where the dream took an interesting turn.  I had to drive to a part of town that wasn’t that safe when my car ran out of gas.  Knowing I was going to be late, I tried to make a call on my cell phone, but found all the data had been used up and there was no Wi-Fi.  I tried to borrow someone else’s phone, but it didn’t work.  Not long after, someone stole my purse.  With no money and my cell phone not working, I couldn’t call for help.

I wandered a few blocks into a neighborhood where hundreds of people lined the streets.  They were of every color, race, nationality and country.  Some had obviously been rich at one point as their clothing shown, but they had fled with just the clothes on their back.  I soon realized most of them were homeless locals and refugees.  I sat with one of the men asking if he had a phone and his phone didn’t work either.  I asked him why they were all waiting around and they said they were all waiting for places to sleep.  I looked around at the beds that had 2, 3 or sometimes 4 people to them and began to feel deeply humbled.  It was at this time that I found both my cell phone and even my shoes had disappeared.

Essentially, I was like these people.  I had no money, no shoes to walk anywhere, no car, no phone to call for help.  I was just like them and I realized how easy it was to have your life turn around so quickly.  As I partook of the breakfast food being served by volunteers, my sister came.  She had somehow found me and I knew I was going to be ok.  But as I left the building with the hundreds of refugees, I began to sing a hymn.  I don’t remember what it was, but it was a hymn of gratitude.  My sister joined me and soon, everyone there was singing this song.  For a moment, though these people were homeless, we were all grateful for what we did have.

I woke up from this dream and realized immediately the lesson that my Heavenly Father was trying to teach me.  We are all refugees in a way.  We owe our last breath to Heavenly Father for He has given us everything and can take everything away.  He does so to teach us powerful and important lessons in humility and gratitude and to rekindle that flame to serve.  How could we be grateful for an old car if we did not have to walk and take the bus?  How could we be grateful for warm shoes to cover our feet if we at one time didn’t have them?  How could we be grateful for our peaceful sanctuaries of home if we didn’t know the fear of losing that at one point? Once upon a time, even the King of all Kings was homeless as he was born and laid in a manger.

Mary and JesusYes, I am grateful.  I am thankful for the warm blankets on my bed and a warm home to sleep in, for the kindness of neighbors, for the love of family, for an old car that works and gets me to places I need to go, for a job that helps me pay my bills, for the food I have, for understanding friends, and most of all, for Jesus Christ whose birth we celebrate at this wonderful time of the year.

As the song below says, there’s so much to be thankful for…

A Woman Out of Time

A Woman Out of Time

Have you ever felt that you lived in the wrong era in history?  Did you ever feel as if you were somehow born for a simpler time?  I have often felt that way, especially when it comes to dating.  There have been so many times when I wished time travel was real.  My heart yearns for the days when gentlemen held doors for women and courted them with roses, strolls through a park, love songs, poetry, and soft words of romance.

I fully realize that even then that was somewhat of a pretense, but oh to hear the sweet words of a well-turned phrase rather than “Hey baby, what size are those wonders?”  (Yes, I actually have had several men ask me some version of that.)  I don’t mean insincere flattery, but a soft and sincere compliment given in that moment when your eyes meet.  When you catch your breath as his look speaks volumes and your heart races a little.

I yearn for the days when marriage was still the ultimate goal of dating instead of one-night stands or flings (which I won’t do).  When commitment, chastity and honor were a code to live by, not something to be mocked.  I’m an old-fashioned woman living in a modern world and with each passing year, I feel more like a relic on the shelf.

regency-woman-looking-at-the-stars-in-the-night-sky-lee-avison

Yes, I’m fully aware that I’m a hopeless romantic.  I know that all throughout history there have been cretinous cads, but surely there must be a man out there who still believes in romance?  I actually believe that there are many, and I still hope there is one for me. Maybe he is reading this post right now…I don’t know.  But if you are, find me…I’m still waiting…

“Run to You” by Whitney Houston

I know that when you look at me
There’s so much that you just don’t see
But if you would only take the time
I know in my heart you’d find
A girl who’s scared sometimes
Who isn’t always strong
Can’t you see the hurt in me?
I feel so all alone

Each day, each day I play the role
Of someone always in control
But at night I come home and turn the key
There’s nobody there, no one cares for me
What’s the sense of trying hard to find your dreams
Without someone to share it with
Tell me what does it mean?

I want to run to you
I want to run to you
Won’t you hold me in your arms
And keep me safe from harm?
I want to run to you
But if I come to you
Tell me…will you stay
Or will you run away?

The Season of Light and Gratitude

The Season of Light and Gratitude

(There will be more installments of my adventures to come, but for now, my heart simply couldn’t hold the joy of the season inside any longer!)

thanksgiving-turkey

When I think of Thanksgiving, I also think of Christmas, because the two holidays are so completely intertwined.  Not in the materialistic or commercial way some people think, but because of the dear meanings they hold to me.

girl and tree

Dealing with a bit of jet lag and waking up at 2 am, I couldn’t get my mind to shut off.  Having recently returned from England, I was already full of happiness after seeing my family again after a month. Though I laid there trying to sleep, I found myself humming a Christmas song and feeling like a child full of excitement. 

Nope, there would be no sleeping for me.  I threw back the covers, pulled out the Christmas decorations, put on the music (quietly so as not to disturb my upstairs landlady) and began to put them up feeling a bit giddy.

Season of Light

With each unwrapping, I couldn’t stop smiling.  Every ornament and decoration held beautiful memories of family and friendships and love.  I hadn’t opened this particular box for several years and I had forgotten.  I put on one of my favorite Christmas CD’s and the familiar music brought tears to my eyes.  I felt joy bubble up inside of me and could only describe it as pure gratitude and love.

The Savior and the child

Gratitude for nature in all of its glories.  Gratitude for my own small home and the peace I feel every time I open the door and step inside.  Gratitude for each and every miracle of love I have received over my lifetime from my family and friends near and far.  And most of all, gratitude for my Savior, Jesus Christ, whom I celebrate with joy and wonder this season.

How could Thanksgiving not be interwoven with Christmas?  A grateful heart finds joy in giving and a giving heart finds joy in selflessly serving with love.  For the recipient, the act of love warms their lives with gratitude.  The circle is complete.  So for those who wish to put up their Christmas decorations alongside their Thanksgiving decorations, you are really just celebrating the joy that comes from the Season of Light, Love, Gratitude and Giving.  What could be more wonderful than that?

Night and Thanksgiving

‘Tis All Hallows Eve!

‘Tis All Hallows Eve!

For my next installment of adventures here in England, I of course had to make it Halloween themed!  With a couple of visits to the nearby old churches and graveyards, I found spooky gravestones and eerie feelings and yes…even a ghost story!

75252917_2620795168040893_3063494593350729728_oThis is the story of two old English churches and their graveyards.  On a quick tour provided by my lovely elfin innkeeper, Sue, I was shown two sites that weren’t normally frequented by visitors.  The first was a church which had been standing since approximately 1200 A.D.

Sue told me how spiritual it was to sit or stand with your back against the 1000 year old Yew tree and survey the area. She said there was some connection to the old Yew tree and the ancient roots (roots…get it? haha!) of the area.

76611007_787178365067214_5742101765554176000_n73349345_2503540293071315_9219300429333004288_n

74162065_471220457073564_4612678069973417984_n

One of the interesting stories of this graveyard was a group of soldiers from New Zealand who came to this church and to Brockenhurst to recover from their wounds in WWI.  Oddly enough, they all died here…
mysteriously…
OOOOOOO!

 

73083645_933169337059189_5116450795759337472_n

Onto the next graveyard…with it’s headstones all laid out nicely in a row.  Sue had told me that there was something about this graveyard that was different.  It had a different… feeling.  As I began to wander, I felt nothing, just the same fascination of history and mystery as before.

73413151_392697861616682_5251473409220542464_n Until I reached here…

Oddly enough, right in this spot, I felt a knot in my stomach.  I couldn’t explain it.  Everywhere else I had felt just fine and all of a sudden…something just not quite right.  Here’s the eerie part: Sue told me that she had brought someone else there to tour the church and graveyard and they had the same feeling in the exact same spot!!  Now that’s CREEPY!!  And here’s the weird thing…those two grave markers you see in the picture?  One of the former Reverends and his wife.  Ummmm…take from that what you will.  Hmmm….

74377345_706631626494957_4747965571247636480_n

I close my creepy post with the following two gravestones:  now who would have a skeleton head with a raven on top carved into a gravestone?  (Edgar Allen Poe maybe?) That’s just…weird.  And the other one I thought was beautiful…in a creepy way.  haha!  And so my children…ghost story hour is now closed for another year…

74287529_560774451338437_4655295784911110144_n

Falling Into Fairyland

Falling Into Fairyland

(All photos were taken by me – Brockenhurst, England) 

Broad Oak - Old FashionedI do believe I have stumbled into an enchanted realm. My latest adventure has found me staying for a month in Brockenhurst, England in a charming Bed & Breakfast that can only be described as something out of a fairy-tale. Magic has been found.  Boring realities have seemed to disappear for a time.  Instead I have found ponies wandering the moors, secret forest paths, owls calling in the middle of the night, fairy lights, and yes…even a unicorn.

Gather round and ye shall hear of faire Melissa’s adventure in enchanted realm yonder…oh I’m sorry, did I just wander off into Old English?  I seem to find myself doing that here.  (Ha!)

Well, it began when I stepped off the train in Brockenhurst.  Awaiting my ride, I heard my name being called and then an older woman dressed in a flowing scarlet scarf with long silver hair came flying around the corner.  She looked somewhat like a harried elf who seemed to be out of place at the train station.  She belonged in the forest with the other magical folk.  This lovely elf turned out to be the owner of the B&B.  Sue (such a prosaic name for an elf) picked me up and proceeded to give me detailed instructions on how to find my way around this little village out of time.

Broad Oak B&BWhen we arrived at Broad Oak, I looked up at the charming old house and was drawn to the dormer attic window.  No surprise that it turned out to be The Enchanted Garden room where I am staying the month.

I soon met the other elf in residence, Michael, Sue’s husband. He was so very gnome-like with his white, curly hair and mischievous grin.  This couple simply had to be elves taking on human form – the resemblance was uncanny.

20191023_220548_HDR.jpgUpon settling in, I discovered that the room was as whimsical as the name.  Fairies hiding in plants, birds flying across the ceiling and vines growing over the walls.  Little lights in the cutest of places and of course, the dormer window thrown wide to let the fresh air of the forest into the room.

I leaned out the window to look at the large, ancient oak spreading it’s branches over the entrance to the road and I began to feel different…more alive.  I slept deeply that night and the next morning, as I awoke in my very soft bed, I felt bubbly and excited.

20191023_220559_HDR

What new adventures awaited me?  Was I Cinderella waking to birdsong in her attic and sunlight pouring through a skylight? Was I a princess awaiting her prince high in the Tower of her castle? (Well, a middle-aged, slightly grey-haired and chubby princess…haha!)  Whatever it was, the enchantment of this place seemed to be working its magic on me.

Even on a walk just around the “neighborhood”, I found a mesmerizing secret path covered in arching tree branches and vines.

Secret paths

A moor that spread off into the distant mist…The Moors

 

The unicorn

 

And yes…a unicorn!  As you can see by the pictures, the unicorn (disguised as a New Forest pony) looked up at me as I stopped to look at him off in the distance.  I tried to get pictures of him without scaring him off and so tiptoed closer.

 

The Unicorn PosesAs I was taking my pictures, an acorn from a large oak dropped on my head!  I laughed and looked up. Had a forest fairy just dropped the acorn on my head to remind me of the time?  I turned back towards the main path and as I did so, the unicorn must have decided I was a kindred spirit and came to me! It even posed for me as I took a picture!  (Of course, unicorns will do this when they know you are a friend to the enchanted folk.)  I reached out and patted his nose as a thank you and made my way back to the beautiful fairy house in the woods.

I have learned a new lesson…fairylands, magic, mysteries and romance are simply a state of mind.  They are as real as you want them to be.  The other night as I was strolling the streets of London, I realized I was lost (as tend to happens there) and wondered if I could find my way back to my hotel.  Then I swear I heard my mother’s voice speaking to me in my mind, “Follow your heart and the magic will find you.” She was right…it has and continues to do so.

Was it her that shared that piece of wisdom with me?  Why not?  How is that any less magical and miraculous than the everyday fairyland I have wandered into?  ‘Tis not, I say! Thus closes Chapter 1 of faire Melissa’s adventures in Broad Oak.  Will there be more?  We must await and see what fate holds!

In Silent Verse

the-love-letter-william-oxer-on-deviantart-paintings-of-sad-sad-woman-paintingsDo you know that I write for you?
Do you read what I cannot speak?
My similes are wishes…
Declarations of admiration
My metaphors weep tears
Of silent yearning
My heart beats in tender sonnets
That I fear to even whisper…
And when my pen is dry
I dip it in the ink of my soul
For therein lies the truth
Not masked by politeness
Raw, unrefined and unstained by lies
In the stare of innocent honesty
I cannot hide the desire in my eyes
To finally see yours loving the reality
Of me…

 

Mid Autumn Night’s Dream

Mid Autumn Night’s Dream

I must tread softly…
For they do not come
As in times past
When my innocent eyes
Could see the lights
Dancing and beckoning
And I could hear
Merry music laughing

These days I must wait
In the softening twilight
For the prosaic realities of day
To melt away…
And the curtain of willows
to rise on the merriment

Under the colorful canopy
Of Autumn hues
They come in golden auras
Feather light with silver songs
Singing and swaying
To the silent music
Only they hear…

They see me and beckon…
Delicate and delighted we dance
Finding a fairy’s fantasy
In a forlorn reality
Ancient ruins and timeworn walls
We are holding on…
To the bygone magic of yesteryear

I am alive…I am new again
As the frustrations of my soul
are released to the air
To dance to Shakespeare’s ethereal lyre
Of this Mid Autumn night’s dream…

Homesick

Homesick

Slowly strolling along the streets of various neighborhoods, I am often struck with a strange sense of yearning that is difficult to pinpoint.  I ramble by old cottages with their aging patina that seem to speak sage advice and whisper of hushed mysteries.  I see tired structures falling down and newer homes who often appear to be waiting like an impatient child to grow in memories.

Each home is unique and presents its own story.  I observe vines growing over romantic, ancient stones.  I gaze at white, wooden houses facing the sea that reflect the charm of a sleepy holiday and the weathering of time.  Sometimes I pass a modern house with clean lines and artistic daring.  On occasion, I tour a grand manor and I immediately imagine fairy tale princesses, knights and Renaissance balls.

In my many wanderings, I have been fascinated with certain homes and I stop to decorate them with my imagination.  Would I leave elegant potted plants at the door or would I grow my own vines of roses and wisteria?  Would I have a wild garden or would everything be pristine?  Would I want bricks, wood or stone?  I have spent many happy hours imagining what my future home might look like.

I’ve never owned a home and it’s still a cherished desire of my heart.  I have lived in many rented apartments and flats, but always felt as though I was “in-between.”  These days, the need for one permanent home settles itself in my heart more firmly with each passing day.  I am tired of wandering.

Then the familiar yearning becomes clear…I am homesick.  I am homesick for a place I have yet to see.  Homesick for my own piece of the world where I can unpack, build, decorate, inspire, create and love.  Homesick for a garden that grew because I planted it.  Longing for a permanent pied-à-terre where I know every inch, because I have spent the time loving each space into existence.

Yes, it’s time to plant some permanent dreams.  It’s time to go home.

Missing You

Missing You

It seems to be a paradox to miss someone
That I haven’t even met
But I miss you my forever friend
Though our paths have not crossed as yet

I miss the laughter we will share
At silly jokes and mismatched socks
At badly cooked dinners,
And memories waiting in a box.

I miss the flowers you will bring me
When I’m feeling a little blue
Or the moments you will hold me
When our joys seem far too few.

I miss the rainy nights
When I will massage your headache away…
Where I will bring you a cup of tea
As you tell me about your day

I miss those sweet hours to be,
Just wanting to be close…
When in front of the Christmas tree
We will cuddle as it snows

My hand brushes the blanket
On the lonely side of the bed
Where in the future I will listen
To your quiet breathing instead

Though you will be part
Of my happily ever after
I’m missing you, my darling
In this my lonely now…

Sweet September

September-harvest-moon-micro-AdobeStock_89784561-600x319

Distant shores are calling…
 I find myself in the car heading north
Ending in an evening ramble
In the Northern wild forests  
My soul soars as I leave behind
the chains of an invisible prison.

Are the distant pines on fire?
No…the fiery, orange Harvest moon rises,
blazing triumphantly over the fading landscape.
I pull my jacket a little tighter 
As the heat of the day succumbs 
to the fresh, sweet night air.

It’s 2 am now…the silence here is profound.
No cars, no crickets, no birds…
No other sounds than the distant call of an elk…
Its mournful cry a story of nature primeval.
I had forgotten how silent nature can be.
It’s just me and the moon and the wind…
and oh how bewitching it is!

A part of me remembers this…the silence
Childhood adventures climbing
Over amber-colored hill tops
Dreaming of castles in the air…
When the silence permeated my soul
Like music in the wind.

My life has come full circle
And the little me still sees
Hope on the horizon of my life…
Some dreams fulfilled, some yet to be…
As sweet September turns another page
I stand still…
This perfect moment soon to be
Another memory in the book of my life.

(Some favorite pictures of my recent road trip to Idaho and Yellowstone.)

 

In the Meantime…

In the Meantime…

Patience Melissa…patience.  The words are whispered into my heart yet again.  The reminder comes as my weary heart waits.  Waiting for the promises that have yet to bear fruit.  But in the meantime, I find purpose in lifting aching hearts and heavy hands.  Words of comfort that have lifted my own burdens find their way to my memory in time to help another.  As I battle with the everyday, struggling to achieve my long-held dreams, inspirations come and I find myself walking a very different path.

Our individual missions are unique, but each one is so important.  We are each struggling to find our destiny, but in the meantime…fulfilling it in every way.  Sometimes our journeys make little sense, but they make perfect sense to One who sees the puzzle piece we are in the bigger picture.

I did not write these lyrics nor this song below, but every word speaks to me in a way few songs do.  It is aimed at women, but it can include all of us.  We all have dreams to be so much more than we are,  but in the meantime, we are becoming exactly who we are meant to be.

Sending my love to you all.

In the Meantime – Jenny Jordan Frogley

In her heart she holds the dreams…
That she’s carried since the day she turned 13.
Of all that she would be when she was grown,
Of all that she would do when she was finally on her own.
She dreamed she’d fly…
She’s still waiting for the chance to try,
But in the meantime she’s a mother, and a daughter, and a wife…
Doing all she can to stay above the daily grind
And she wonders when she’ll ever have more meaning in her life.
She doesn’t know she’s being molded and refined…
In the meantime.
Someday she’ll go back to school
When the carpools and the soccer games are through.
Because deep inside, she’s still the girl
Who always felt the fire to make a difference in the world.
She dreams she’ll soar…
When she finally has the time to do more.
But in the meantime…
She’s a sister and a teacher and a friend.
Hours turn into days that turn to years that never end.
And she wonders when she’ll ever really find herself again…
She’s becoming one on whom God can depend… 
In the meantime.
Heaven feels the joy of every victory in her life.
And heaven hears her heart before she cries…
But somewhere in the middle of the triumphs and the trials,
she’s becoming sanctified.
But in the meantime,
She’s an answer and a blessing and a gift
To every empty, aching heart that only she can lift.

Still she wonders if she’ll ever get to see where heaven is.
If she could only see her mansion waiting there.
If she could only feel how much her Father cares…
She would know she’s being perfectly prepared…
In the meantime…

Guardian of the Silence

Guardian of the Silence

Dark, majestic, somber pines…citadels of the night.
She weaves in and out of them draped in white,
Both human and spirit in this other worldly moment
She is at one with the secret of the trees.

The crescent moon softens the darkness,
Just enough light to illuminate the path.
As one solitary owl calls for it’s mate,
Ancient stones and fairy lights accompany the dance.

She is seeking impossible answers
Revealing her veiled secrets to the breathless air
She is the guardian of her silence
Only the moon witnesses the whisper of her prayer.

Just one more turn before the chill sets in
Just one more moment to wistfully dream
One more moment to rescue the innocence within
Before the reality of life chains her spirit yet again.

woman-in-forest-with-white-dress (2)
You can find this photo here: lovinglifeonearth.wordpress.com.