Emmaline is 9

On the 13 day of March, in Hermitage Tennessee my heart was made fresh when my daughter Emmaline was born. Everyday, even in the darkest of times, her little voice will whisper " I love you daddy ", and all the worlds troubles, if only for a brief moment evaporate. My life would be shallow without her.

 Sometimes we are reluctant in sharing such a statement, thinking that we must love God more than humans, and surly we should. However, it is in the flesh of humanity and especially our progeny that we express our love to God and His is expressed to us. In the daily kindnesses that we show each other, in the giving to meet a need of friends or strangers, or just listening to someone, we show forth his presence in our lives, His imprint.

In His most infinite love toward me, he gifted me with my family, and in a special kindness , Emmaline. She is there  giving the gentlest of kisses to her daddy, when the weight of the universe seems to be stranded on his shoulders. She reminds me on days when I have forgotten, that I have a purpose.  Not a purpose to recite a well held system of theological truths, but to give them away in bed time prayers, comforting words when there are boo boo's on skinned knees, or in enjoying their truths in the wonder of a storm or starry night.

God is not jealous when we cherish His gifts rightly, He is pleased.....Therefore today, March 13, we will celebrate Emmaline's birth and cherish with special flare God's gift, His expression of love to our family, all packaged in the beauty of a little girl.

Cotton Pillow

I gazed upon an angels face

As she rested upon her pillow

Thinking with most covetous eyes

Never one mental frame would I dare share

For there on that cotton resting place

The purest of creamy skin, flowing blond hair

Eyes of clearest blue, opening for just a moment

She dreams of creatures, places, I've long forgotten

The toss of her head from side to side

I am arrested in my heart, thinking she may wake

Resolved in my selfishness,

Knowing this heavenly voyeurism would be over

I find myself casting my voice toward the divine

Hoping to be heard in the only request I have today

  "Please, let this time, these images be suspended forever, to be captivated in safe retreat in my mind."  

   Allow death to come before a thief, as time or decay robs me of what I have witnessed today.

The purposeful image of divine imagination

Resting on a humbled man's cotton pillow.

Happy St. Valentine's Day..... She Closes Her Eyes

She closes her eyes, drifts away

Eyes flickering as she dreams

Memories of things, bought to mind

Of kind whispers, it would seem

A time that now, recalls a smile

Of something, no one ever “new”

Would remember, from long ago

A recollection, of only you

Rocking there with grey hair down

The peaceful Southern breeze

Recalls with warmth, within her voice

Of a name, now said with ease

Past and Present the line now blurred

Between smiles, corners to edge

A not so common beautiful thought

And a not forgotten pledge

Would hope all others, shared such dreams

That appoints the heart to melt

Reposed in shadowed love, so sweet

And a passion, she has ever felt

Ever Missed ... A repost, but I had forgotten this one.

When they meet

If they met

If words 

Were never spoken

Could they pass

If bodies pressed

Would hearts 

Be never broken

Time would say

If it may

If lips

Were never kissed

That such pain

Lived in shame

For love

That's ever missed.

Henry is 14!!!

Today is Henry's 14th Birthday!!!! What an amazing creative  mind.... He is still a boy and not to stained by the world around him. I am very grateful to our Lord Jesus.

Henry McHenry

Henry McHenry lived in a tree

And for he,

It was the only,

Well, the only place to be.

Each day he would listen,

To his thoughts with intent

Devising a way,

To be less, discontent

Not that he did not,

Enjoy all he’d acquired

He looked everyday,

And everyday he admired.

His achievements were grand,

From intentions to inventions

With gadgets and gizmos,

Beyond all convention

Made from odd things,

Only the bold could acquire

Wrestled from wreckage,

And things less desired

Items no one wanted

Discarded and rotten

Broken and battered

And sometimes forgotten

Items of inspiration

Others considered worthless

Though Henry’s discontentment

Valued them as priceless

So Henry’s irritation

Was meant to teach a lesson

For Henry, discontentment

Really was a blessing

It moved him to be different

Caused him to achieve

Reminded him to dream

What no one would believe

Henry McHenry lived in a tree

And for he

It was the perfect

The perfect place to be!

Happy Birthday Mom! Mary Green

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!!

Mary Green would have been 80 Today,and everyday I miss her. I posted this originally the day after she went to be with her Lord. 









Last night my mother passed over after a long fight with cancer, and my family is in both mourning and  celebration for the beauty that the Lord God has shown to those that love him. We do not mourn as those whom have no hope. Blessed be the name of our God! 

She would have been 73 in August and was a woman of very special design. She was crazy, caring, quick to forgive ,for she had been forgiven much and knew the value of God's mercy. 

When I was little, our house was the place where all the children wanted to come, and she was the biggest reason for our popularity. She knew how to make a person feel welcome, and had a great ability to converse with anyone of any race , creed, or disposition. She was always active in anything her children were into, from Teen Club in Beaufort S.C. back in the 1960's and 70's, football , baseball, basketball, cheerleading, and even soccer ( long before there were soccer moms). Our house was always full.

She liked to panic about things...lol.... She was always in a hurry in my younger days, which is probably because she had to raise five kids while my father was overseas defending the United States. She did it, and all her children are alive and doing well. 

She wasn't nearly perfect and did many things that caused her family much grief, but so what! I have learned over many years to forgive...There is no other way to live. Even though I lived hundreds of miles away, we talked almost everyday and I looked forward to those conversations,growing a little more and each time knowing  more about this beautiful woman and why she was the person she came to be.

We will care for her remains by residing them in the same location as our father in Beaufort S.C., which even though we lived many places over the years, Beaufort was always "home". 

May we all remember to plead the "Fifth" , the Fifth Commandment that is, to honor our father and our mother in life and in eventual death, for they will all pass over one day. 

May all those who read this and take occasion to remember, honor , and maybe for most of us, forgive our parents in this life, so when this time comes you live  with no regret. Today what a peace it was for me to know that I had  for once in my life, left nothing to regret concerning the honoring of either my father , or mother. I have many regrets in my life, but not in respect to my parents.

God has reclaimed what was always his, blessed be the name of the Lord!

Remembering the Low Country of South Carolina

These last two posts are a reflection into the world that I still call home. I grew up in Beaufort, S.C. from the age of three until I was about eleven. It was during the Vietnam War and my dad was a lifer Marine ( Siemper Fi), he is buried there. It is the fondest place I know and although it has been a lifetime since I lived there, it will always be home.

She calls for me……

She calls for me on sand she lays
From an old light house in starry gaze
Tall sailing ships with sturdy mast
Warriors shouts who's fate was cast

She calls for me from way back when
Tabby forts and rivers bend
Bare foot boys on hot sandy ground
Boyhood friends all gathered round

She calls for me from childish past
Sandy beaches and wiregrass
Blue crabs caught on a single string
Up from the bottom shiny and clean

She calls for me in my mind today
Rescues me from world gone astray
Spanish moss on ancient oak trees
She beckons me my "Low Country"

Caroline (Bloom)

Among the thorns, a flower blooms

From smallest of buds, till now

When sunlight rushes to its call

Leaves whispering to know, just how

Could this be beauty, from rugged bush

Transforming to lovely, before our eyes

Through the storm clouds of darker days

To the peace of more brighter sky's

The warmth that bathed the started bloom

And pointed thorns that kept her charm

That hid her newness from the world

Crowdedly protecting her from selfish harm

A glimpse excited the garden in awe

As the bloom finally broke from its bed

For what the garden hoped to see that day

The beauty, of a single bloom of red

In the days, the Spring of new life

She was the bloom all sought, so fine

And the gardener just smiled, as they gazed

At the wonderful beauty, of his Caroline



Trying times may come my bloom, but you are always the rarest  and beautiful of flowers in my garden.