When it Rains

Last night it was raining
And I thought of you
Of the promise we made
Many years ago
Before time and distance
Kept us apart
A promise to always
Come when it rains
A promise that can't be kept
So instead, I think of you.

Dear Grandma

It was my Grandma's 80th Birthday last week.  To celebrate, I wrote her this poem:

Dear Grandma

You have always been a special friend

dear grandma

Someone who loves unconditionally

Your home has always been a haven

dear grandma

A place where love is abundant

Your heart is full of gratitude

dear grandma

For loved ones young and old

You are an example to me and others

dear grandma

For a life full of service and kindness

I love you so much

dear grandma

For sincerely loving me.

My Word of the Year 2012

For the past few years I have wanted to focus on one word for the year.  I know a lot of other bloggers do this, specifically Ali Edwards and Leigh Anne from Your Homebased Mom.  I'm not exactly sure who came up with this idea, but I think it is a great way to start the new year.  The word I chose for this year came to me while I was on an early morning bike ride in September.  The thought occurred to me that while many cyclists listen to their ipods while riding, I enjoyed listening to the sounds around me.  Then in October during General Conference for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the word listen kept coming to my mind.  I wrote a poem that was based on what I was thinking and feeling that day, and during my bike ride a few weeks earlier. I posted the poem back then, but I'm going to post it again.  My word for this year is LISTEN.

Listening

Listening is more than hearing
The words that are spoken
Listening is sensing things
That others can't see or hear
Listening is following your heart
When your mind tells you not to
By listening with your heart
Instead of your ears
You can hear the messages
That are hidden inside
The words that weren't spoken.

Therapy

While many people pay the big bucks to go speak to a therapist to sort out their problems.  I tend to lean on a different type of therapy.

Meet my therapist.  Her name is Betty White.

(Source)

No, not that Betty White.  Although that would be pretty awesome!  She was a grief counselor when she played the character "Rose" from Golden Girls, so I'm sure she'd be qualified, but I digress.

My therapist is my bike.  Meet my bike, her name is Betty White. 

I've been wanting to get a road bike for years, and I was finally able to get one this year.  Nothing feels better than the freedom of riding a bike.  I used to ride a bike everywhere I went as a child and into my teen years.  Then I turned 16, and had no need for a bike, or so I thought.

I found as I rode my bike that if I was frustrated or mad about something, I usually worked it out in my head while I rode.  My husband always listens to headphones when he rides, but I found that by listening to the sounds around me, and listening to myself, that I was able to clear my mind of all the junk.

Now that it's winter and 20 degrees outside, I am missing my trusty therapist.  But come Spring, we'll have our 2-3 sessions per week, and all will be right with the world.  Until then I'll just watch some Golden Girls reruns and eat popcorn.

Life

Life is good
Life is sweet
Life is simple
Life is busy
Life is imperfect
It's the imperfections in life
That mold us into the people
That we are
But in spite of those imperfections
Life is complete.

Her Altered State

Her heart screamed inside her weak body
The fragile exigency of life had overcome her
Illusions of felicity blind her altered state
Seeking normalcy to replace this daze.
Trying to evade the questions
No one desires to have answered
Her life resembles a nova
The evanescence is no longer comprehensible
Struggling with the will to vanquish virtue
She continues to live her vapid life.

Dreaming

Dreams are a way to set one free
They can go anywhere
See all they can see
Living in a world of hope
Dreaming of a world with joy
Love and laughter they do employ.