On The Acceptance Of Grace

Barb, bless her little cotton socks, is hard at work transforming parts of the yard...making safe footing for me, so I can walk the dogs.

Because the thing is my legs don't work properly now, and a misstep will send me into a flailing fall worthy of the Three Stooges.

I am thankful that I have been able to put resentment against cancer aside, to let pride be a discarded cloak by the wayside, and accept this offered grace with a full heart.

And now the gate is far away,

the ladder can't be climbed,

and I've lost much that yesterday

I truly thought was mine,

beholden unto me alone

in my long-flower'd youth,

but circumstance calls to atone

and face the cold hard truth

that spring (so treasured!) will not last,

and in this life not come again,

that I cannot live in the past,

and only forward, through the pain

can new meaning still be found

to keep my heart on solid ground.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is BE. Not hard.

I know you did not want to be,

my dear, what life's demanded,

and it truly hurts to see

that you have been remanded

to a life of wearing care,

to a tether firm and close;

I wish that you could breathe free air,

live the days you would have chose,

a biker trip 'cross mountain passes,

a visit to the Windward Isles,

toasts with friends, and upraised glasses,

bright evenings ending in bright smiles,

but, by, God, I'm glad you're here

as the scary dark draws near.

Three minutes. Truth runs fast.

Music from Dire Straits, with Walk Of Life .

Sylvia happily accepts the Grace of Ice Cream.

 

Attitude Of Gratitude

Past the sorrow of losing my service dog, Ladron, past the rapidly increasing infirmity of cancer (Barb needed to replace a ceiling fan, and I can no longer climb a ladder to help...but I COULD read her the directions), one still needs to cultivate the Attitude of Gratitude.

So, this is for Barb, with love.

She walks like a happy camel,

has the style of Superfly;

hair is cut like skater, Hamill,

soft brown eyes for which to die.

She can raise your spirit higher,

just like falling off a log,

when she sings in the church choir,

sounding like Kermit the Frog.

As caregiver she's a collie

faced with some unruly sheep,

but remaining ever jolly

'fore dawn when she'd prefer to sleep,

and as accountant (more than grace and looks),

she can really cook the ledger books!

Now don't you wish YOU had married a poet?

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is CHANCE.

Another one for Barb.

If you had another chance,

a second try at What To Do,

would you change things to enhance

the life of years that you'd walk through?

For my part I am truly blessed,

but as a spouse I think I've failed,

lost the paper for the test,

and I'm just glad you haven't bailed.

Every court must have a jester,

and daily, here, I am class clown,

but in despair, regrets do fester,

and cancer's got me feeling down,

but then your smile shines through our pain

to say you'd do it all again.

Five minutes, just barely.

Music from the OC Supertones, with "Superfly".

Sylvia wonders if she can eat ice cream while rolling her eyes.

The Goodbye

 Snow melts from the temple eaves,

and the first tears of spring

fall to the stones.

RIP Ladron, my PTSD service dog.

August 2008-July 12, 2022

She made my world sane.

The picture of the Kosho-Ji temple in Fukukusa comes from https://terebess.hu/zen/sojiji/koshoji.html

I hope that it's OK to use it here.

Music from Sir James Galway, with Nakasendo.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is PROPOSE.

I cannot propose an end to winter

beyond faith

that there is spring.

Yesterday's You

God made you, yeah?

Knew you before the womb?

OK, maybe you've gone off the rails. We all do, to some degree.

But when Jesus makes all things new, He's using what you were, and making that into what you can be.

Even in the times you were furthest from God, no part of you was a throwaway. 

No shame, for with Christ, disgrace is clothed in glory.

Look back on the emptiness

of all the years now dead and gone,

but that death's all a sham unless

you refuse to take along

the younger self that lived those days,

did best or worst with what he had,

who daily offered curse or praise

to our patient Heaven-Dad.

Why take him when he was a jerk,

a scoffer at the bright and good?

Well, it's true he needed work,

but really in your heart you should

know this to be well and true,

that part of him still lives in you.

Appropriately, the Five Minute Friday prompt this week is TWENTY.

I was twenty way back when,

convinced that I would never die

until that weirded moment when

I bet my life against the sky

and drove an aeroplane straight through

some 250 kV wires;

it seemed that 'twas the thing to do

in matching madness to desires,

and by God and His mercy hand

that He keeps prepared for fools,

I was able then to land,

and having broken many rules

was asked that I not soon return,

but, dude, I flew again next morn.

The only quote I can think of here is 'stupid is as stupid does', but I've had a blast.

Music from America, with Work To Do.

Sylvia shall meanwhile work on her ice cream.