Home

 ~Home ~

Leaning on the everlasting arms of FatherMother Godde

I trudge along.Those arms have never failed me yet

in all my many days - all my blindly selfish ways

my ups, my downs; in gain or loss, My Savior

catches me and guides me home

my Godde, my Home 

JoMae

8/27/22

Dreamers

~ Dreamers ~

We pour our minds onto the page like spilled ink 

not black ink, but many colors of the rainbow

sharing our dreams, spilling our sorrows

sorting worries that have turned out ok

and what we can make of all not ok

We look back, look forward; rejoice, despair

we tear down,  we repair,  life goes on

Our dreams remember the good and the bad

sprout blossoms of what might have been

and what still can be - who we can be

what we can make of ourselves

to color our world again

JoMae

11/2/21

Labor Day

~ John's Labor of Love ~

~ Labor Day ~

I wake to another Monday Morning.  One that should feel a little different because this is Labor Day. A holiday. We often did not make a big thing of holidays. Simply spent them together. We might not go any where or gather friends around, yet the day felt different.  That in itself colored the hours as we lingered over coffee or fixed a hamburger. 

When we spent holidays alone we liked it that way. I marvel over what a difference it makes when a couple is alone or when one is alone.  This day too, I’ll spend with myself.  And it’s ok. Almost 4 years now, I should be used to it.  

Thankfully, I keep busy with my pages.  Books. A lot of thinking. The pages I fill with words born of that thinking - and with my blog pages and other media waiting for the work I wish to share.  

It will be a day like any other.  Every once in a while I’ll look up and remember that this is Labor Day.  I’ll read articles considering this special day. I’ll wander to the kitchen for another cuppa and tell the sink full of dishes - hey, it’s Labor Day after all.  Maybe later. Then return to my favorite chair and the page I’m working on.

At first, coming to grips with being on my own, I saw this as a new chapter. So different than the one before. So unexpected, foreign and disorienting. A chapter difficult to find my way into; difficult to write.  Gradually I realized, these years are not just a new chapter.  This is a whole new book.

I’m trying to make it a good book. One that shows how in every loss lies buried gifts - to be opened when the time is right. Small seeds to nurture into blossoms.   New responsibilities to grow into. A book reminding us that every ending is a new beginning - and to trust, to savor it’s unfolding. For I’ve learned already that when/if another loss occurs, I will be ok. I might be scared, but will be ok.  

If mine were a real book, I’d name it 

~ Hope ~

JoMae

9/7/20