Searching for the Cinnamon Rolls

So this morning, the day after my girl’s 20th birthday, I bestowed upon her the privilege of having the leftover cinnamon rolls from yesterday morning’s special breakfast.  There were only a few, not enough for all three children, and since we celebrate a birthday all week–sometimes all month–they were deemed hers.

Much to the displeasure of her carb-loving brother Cooter.  He was quite devastated.

As Aub went to the refrigerator to get the sweet rolls, she asked me what they were in.

“I wrapped them in tin foil,” I answered. Which was hardly the truth.  It’s aluminum  foil now, everyone knows it, but some habits die hard.

She stuck her head in the frigidaire and began rooting around.  She pulled out a tin foil bundle.  “Oh please, oh please let this be the cinnamon rolls and NOT broccoli.  Please not broccoli.  I might lose my mind if it is.”  She knows me well.  When I roast a bunch of broccoli, I sometimes tuck the leftovers in foil for a snack later on.

Kinda hard to tell, isn't it?

She pulled back a corner and grimaced instantly.  “Oooooohhhh, it IS broccoli.  I hate it when things aren’t what they look like on the outside.”

Yeah, baby girl, me too.

Like when you meet someone and your first impression is that they are pretty okay and then you find out they park in handicapped spaces for the sport of it or they make fun of people who are different or that sort of thing.  Or when you think you’re about to take a sip of water and it’s Sprite or some such nonsense.   Or worse, it’s unsweet tea when you were expecting sweet.  That’s just not okay.

It is hard when people and things aren’t what they first seemed to be.

And yet, sometimes, every once in a blue moon or so, the opposite happens. You think–oh well, here’s a plain ol’ ball of tin foil.  Probably some broccoli or something like that in here.  And then, when you open it up, tucked inside extra special is a small bundle of cinnamon deliciousness.  Or when you stay up late talking to someone you’ve just met and you know instantly that they will always be in your life.  Or when someone you’ve known in the background for a while steps to the forefront and you find a kindred spirit.

Those cinnamon rolls.  They make the digging through all those tin foil packs so very worthwhile.

May life surprise you with cinnamon rolls and all the good things today.  And may you find yourself not discouraged when something isn’t what it first seemed.  Keep looking. Those cinnamon rolls are out there.

Love to all.

Cauliflower In My Mac and Cheese

Because of food allergies, we have been around the world and back looking for “substitutes” for those foods we have to avoid. Substitutes that are safe and that we enjoy eating are like finding treasure, because the same old meals day in and day out get very old, very fast.

Last June my Aunt found a wonderful substitute that has been huge in expanding our horizons on the eating front.

IMG_9718

The Sneaky Chef’s No Nut Butter.

We love it.  In many different ways.

Tonight I was thinking about the Sneaky Chef and how she started out encouraging families to enhance their intake of good nutritious foods by “sneaking” certain veggie purees into different dishes.  I remember my failed attempt to add cauliflower to homemade macaroni and cheese.  I thought it was delicious myself, but I didn’t puree the cauliflower quite enough, and my oldest figured it out.  To this day, she hesitates to eat my homemade mac and cheese, worried what I might have put in it.

The idea is a solid one though.  Sometimes eating nutritiously is hard to get children (and some adults) to do.  But if you can put something in it that is good for them in the midst of something else, something they don’t suspect, that’s all for the better.  (At least until they can learn to make healthier choices on their own.)

Some days it’s whatever it takes, y’all.

As I was thinking about this, it occurred to me that the One who created all that is within our sight and so much more seems to use this “slipping something in unexpected” technique too.

How many times have I been in a hard and broken situation and found some nugget of joy or beauty?

It has happened more often than you’d think.

Goodness tucked in the midst of something that you’d never have suspected.  A kindness in a time of darkness.  Joy in the midst of pain.

I think that’s pretty cool.

But then I like cauliflower in my mac and cheese.

May we all find a nugget of good in the midst of the broken or mundane or somewhere else we least expect to find it.

Love to all.

Twenty Years Gone By in a Second

The night before I turned twenty, I had all the teenage angst.  I pondered life from the small room I had on first floor in the dorm where I’d also lived two years before during my freshman year of college.  I can see the comforter and my peach colored sheets, as I remember sitting there and putting into words all of my emotions about leaving my teen years.  Sentimentality and questions were predominant in the lines I filled with my handwritten thoughts.

Tonight I sit here again, pondering the end of the teen years and all that encompasses.  My oldest will be twenty when we all get up in the morning, as she was born at 3:32 a.m.

Twenty.  How can that be possible, when I can still feel nearly everything I felt the night before I turned twenty?

This is the decade when she will grow by leaps and bounds into whom she will be.  She will finish her education and choose a career.  She will meet all kinds of interesting people and possibly even find someone to share the rest of her life with in this next decade.  She will do more than dream in this next decade–she will make things happen.

And that is mind-boggling.

I don’t have all the fancy words tonight that I did over twenty-something years ago. I won’t jot the thoughts I do have down with pen and paper.

Instead, I sit quietly and give thanks for every one of the past twenty years–each minute of every single day.  Even the hard ones.

This night twenty years ago when I arrived at the hospital, my doctor met me there.  The nurses had checked my blood pressure in the pre-admission room.  They expressed concern to Dr. B that my blood pressure was up just a little bit.

“Of course it is,” he said, in a “duh” tone of voice.  “She’s about to have a baby.  About to become a Mama.”

Exactly.

There have been many moments since that night when “being a Mama” has raised my blood pressure just a little bit.

And I wouldn’t change a single thing.

In the hours after my girl was born, people gathered close.  People who were anxiously awaiting her arrival and who have loved her ever since.

Every minute of every day since the moment she took her first breath, she has been loved.

I think I hold on to those two things tonight, and I want her to hold these close to her heart as well.

There will be hard moments in this life–hard days, even hard seasons.  Times that will raise your blood pressure.  There’s no getting around that.  But when those moments come, and they WILL, know this–you are loved.

Every moment.  Of everyday.

May that love carry you in its arms through the hard times and carry you on its shoulders in times of joy.

And may this next decade find joy chasing you down and tackling you.  All the days.

Love to all.

And happy birthday, baby girl!

My girl with her love.  So thankful for all the music she brings to our lives, and I look forward to all the music she has yet to play.

My girl with her love. So thankful for all the music she brings to our lives, and I look forward to all the music she has yet to play.

Snow in September

This afternoon I needed a nap.

Badly.

It was not going to happen, but I did take a moment and stretched out on the little couch in the living room.  That was my mistake.

Because instead of closing my eyes and really napping, I looked up at the ceiling.  And the ceiling fan.

WHAT. ON. EARTH.
How in the world did the blades get THAT bad without me realizing it before now?

Details are not my forte, y’all.  Apparently.

It troubled me so much that I could not rest.  I got up in search of the thingy-how-ya-doin’ that we use to clean the blades.  It’s nice because it can stretch out whereas I cannot.  Our Princess found it and excitedly brought it in.  She went and called Cooter to come in and watch the fun.

Yeah.  I guess heavy cleaning around here is so rare it’s considered a party.  *sigh*

I used the brush and wiped off the dust from the bottom of the blades, and, shuddering to think how bad the tops were, I stretched out and wiped those too.

Snow in September!

At least that’s what the littles called it as all the dust fell to the floor.

What a mess.

As I was working, going from blade to blade, our Princess asked, “Mama, how on earth did they get that dirty?  Where did all that dust come from?”

I explained, through teeth gritted in determination to reach each and every spot, how dust is floating in the air and the blades catch it and it stays there and builds up to what we can see.

“That’s amazing,” she said.  “Because I can’t see dust in the air.  And yet, there’s so much on the blades!”

Yes.  There was.

IMG_9618

As I swept up the mess I made by cleaning the fan, it occurred to me that we are lot like those blades.  We go through our day to dailies, collecting bits and pieces of what is going on around us.  Somehow all of the energy and attitudes and things we see, read, and hear in a day collect on our spirits.

And eventually, if we aren’t careful, it changes who we are, and we need a good soul-searching spirit cleansing to get ourselves back in balance.

Back to a good place.  Sometimes, like with my floor, things can get even messier before we get to that place.

Don’t wander through the dust if you can help it, y’all.  Surround yourselves with good energy, people with good attitudes, and read all the good things.  Listen to music that feeds your soul, and look upon the beautiful.  Seek beauty in everything, and you will find it.  Don’t let the naysayers and negativity in this world latch on to you and bring you down or darken your heart.  Take time to soothe the hurts and give lots of hugs.

I tend to think hugs help knock the dust off myself.

The blades after I'd wiped most of the dust off.

The blades after I’d wiped most of the dust off. No way I was taking a picture of BEFORE.  

May we all find someone to help us dust ourselves off and begin again and to point out the beauty when we forget.

Love to all.

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If you need some pointers as you begin to seek beauty, follow my friend Hugh Hollowell’s weekly blog on just that.  Beauty.  And the relentless pursuit of it. Click here to check it out yourself.  (And here to sign up for it.)  It’s a good place to dust off.  

The Case for Grace

I was aware of the situation.  I knew.  I hadn’t read everything about it, but I knew the date was coming soon, and I felt like wringing my hands–unsure of what I could do, of anything I could do to change things.

And so, with all that I had going on–from my day to dailies with all the extras added in–I let it go. I let it slide.

And.  I did.  Nothing.

Today as I was about to head out on yet another errand, I saw the notice that this was the day.  I sighed.  It was inevitable, I guess.  No one was listening, and so it would happen as planned.

And I went on my way, resigned to that fact.

Richard Glossip would be executed at 4 p.m. this afternoon in Oklahoma.

Despite the new evidence and appeals to the Governor for a 60 day stay of execution, it would go through as scheduled.

When I came out of our second errand of the day, I had a notice on my phone.  I sat in the parking lot in my vehicle, and I clicked on it.

And there it was:

Oklahoma Court Halts Execution Of Richard Glossip Amidst Claims He’s Innocent

I had hardly read the heading all the way through before tears were springing from my eyes, and I found myself sobbing.

“Oh, thank God!” I said, choked up.  I whispered the words, but my hesitation of cranking up our vehicle and moving along had the littles in the back curious as to what was going on.

The thing is, I hadn’t fully realized how much this was weighing on me today until it wasn’t.  The life of this man I never met mattered more to me than I knew.

And I think that’s kind of how it should be.  Life is precious.  Too many die each day from things we can’t control.  Cancer.  Heart disease.  Tragic accidents.  So many things.  I cannot wrap my heart and brain around the killing of someone when it can be controlled.  No matter which side of the law the person doing it is on.

As I attempted to explain to my two littles why my heart was happy and why suddenly I was dancing to nearly every song on the radio, they tried to make sense of it.  Cooter wanted to know if it was supposed to have been execution by beheading (yes, we’ve talked a bit about those days).  They wanted to know if Mr. Glossip had committed the crime he’d been accused of, and I explained that there were some serious doubts that had been presented.  It was then that our Princess asked me the question that took my breath away.

“Is he African-American?”

Oh no. What?

“No, he isn’t.”

“Oh.  Huh.  Well, huh.”  She paused.  I asked her why she had asked that. “Well, when I read that book about the woman who wouldn’t give up her seat on the bus…..mmmmm…..”

“Rosa Parks!” Cooter piped up from the backseat.

“Yes!  Rosa Parks!  Well, in that book she talked about how sometimes folks accused African-Americans of doing things they hadn’t done just because they didn’t like them.  I was thinking that might have happened this time if he had been dark-skinned like her.”

Y’all.  I don’t even know what to do with that.  My children are aware of social injustices at ages 8 and 10.  Which is a hard and good and sad thing all at the same time.

I want them to understand.  I know that is important for them to affect change and help this world heal and be better for all.

And yet, I wish we had more talks about the life cycle of the earthworm or how funny the idea of a swan with a trumpet is or about the nutritional merit of Cooter’s favorite cereal.  I want to talk about happy, random things more and the serious business of life and death and justice less.

But that is not to be.

Not if I want them to grow to be strong and wise advocates for goodness, justice, and mercy.

And I do want that.

Very badly.

Tonight I’m thankful for the people who didn’t look the other way in Richard Glossip’s case, the ones who have hung in there and fought for justice for this man.  I give thanks for the people of the Oklahoma Court of Criminal Appeals who gave him a stay of execution for two weeks.  I hope that is enough time for his attorneys to convince the powers that be to do the right thing.  And I hope that is enough time for me to figure out how to stand up and speak out more on this very subject.  Because it’s more than a case–it’s a life.

And I know very dearly how precious each breath each person on this earth takes is.  As long as someone is taking a breath, there is a chance, no matter how big or small, for redemption.

At least that’s what I have to believe.

Because I need that grace myself each and every day.

Love to all.

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All of our voices matter and can make a difference in protecting another life–one filled with grace and redemption.  Read more here on how you can help.  #kellyonmymind  and the story of her vigil here and here

A Night of Haikus

Because They Cared

some days the best thing
that happens–a face you know
greets you at the door

The Son-shine in My Life

little boy laughter,
a cacophony of joy
makes my spirit soar

Brushstrokes

taking colors from
the palette to the canvas
I see what can be

Dizzy

all the sounds around
dog barking, music playing,
my heart needs quiet

Stars As They Are

tucked away this night
shining, growing in the dark
nothing dims their light

Upon Finishing Her Second Decade of Life

the smile has not changed;
her heart is bigger and casts
its net far and wide

The First Time Our Hands Met

when we talked, your hands
were so excited they flew
and landed just right

It Won’t Always Be This Way

“just because” does not
live with “it will always be”
the good things will come

The Word I Didn’t Want Him To Say, and Why He Said It

I got Cooter a book on engineers.  It’s a massive book, more detailed and much thicker than I thought it would be.  If his interest in engineering continues, it will grow with him.

http://www.amazon.com/Engineers-DK-Publishing/dp/1465435972/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1442285805&sr=8-1&keywords=DK+engineers

Which makes me very happy–I love getting my money’s worth.  So far, with him, we’ve only really gotten our money’s worth on the Star Wars and Harry Potter Lego character books.  He looks and reads through those almost daily.

We were having a lovely afternoon, sitting on the back porch with the windows open, soaking in the calmness of a day that teased us with the promise of fall’s impending arrival.  The sun, the clouds, the bluest sky, the trees still full of their green leaves.  The crew had spent much of the day reading.  Our Princess had picked up our recently acquired copy of Trumpet of the Swan by E. B. White–one of my favorites from early on.  She was delighted and amazed at the turn of events in the first few chapters.  Her recounting of it had Cooter laughing, and I’m pretty sure I might find myself in a quandary when he finds a way to sneak her copy and read it.  Because really, those are two things that boy lives for–making his sister crazy with his sneaky ways…..and reading.

As we were enjoying the quiet of the afternoon and the unscheduled afternoon hours we had, Cooter piped up with a question, “Mama, what do you think is the dumbest invention ever made?”  I frowned. He knows I do NOT like that word.  At all.  I started to correct him, and he looked at me in all sincerity, “Mama, I don’t think there is another word that means the same thing as dumb, is there? Really?”

And in that moment, my brain froze and I couldn’t come up with a single one.  Not really.

He took my silence as permission to continue.  “So Mama, which one?”

I shook my head, maybe in the hopes of clearing the fog.  “I don’t know.  I heard the other day about a thing that you press on a banana and it cuts it into banana slices.  That’s pretty silly.  I mean, who can’t take a knife and cut a banana into slices pretty quickly?”

He stared at me.

“Really?  Ummm, what about children?” He looked at me with a stern and indignant expression.   “That way they don’t cut themselves?”

Oh yeah.  Right.  “Okay, well, I don’t know then.”

“Well, I do.  There was a guy a long time ago who put some rockets underneath a chair and then he sat down and told them to light the rockets and he tried to make the first…..rocket…..ship!”  By the last few words, he could hardly get them out, he was laughing so hard.  “I mean,” he breathed heavily, “who would do that?  Put themselves on a chair like that? With rockets? See, Mama, that’s just dumb.”

I still don’t like the word, y’all.  But yeah, I get his point.  For now, we’re compromising as long as he only calls actions and not people THAT.

He later read to me in great detail about this thing that happened in 1500 A.D.  This guy in China did the first recorded experiment in “manned rocketry.”  He was a Chinese government official, who attached 47 rockets to this chair.  Cooter delighted in informing that after all were lit and he took off, he nor the chair were ever seen again.  Cooter found this quite hilarious.

Anybody wanna bet the guy’s last words were, “Hey, y’all, watch this!”?

Ahem.

Some days I really, really love homeschooling.  I enjoy wacky conversations like these that are nowhere in the plans that lead us to even greater talks, like how words can hurt people, and we need to choose them wisely.  Be smart.  Like what that guy five hundred years should have been.  But no.  (Trust Cooter to find the wackiest story in a 360 page book almost as soon as he got it.)

I’m thankful for the quiet and for the laughter that fills it.  Both are good.  As are the interesting stories I hear from the things they’ve read.  Today had all of the best things–from E. B. White to engineers. From swans who can’t honk to rocketeers.

All the really good stuff.

And for a Monday, that will do just fine.

Love to all.

Stopping in the Middle of the Aisle

The grocery store was packed.  I, with my big cart, found it hard to get around the other shoppers who seemed to come from every direction.  It was chaotic.  Folks passing each other and then stopping suddenly in the middle of the aisle so they could make the life changing decisions such as which variety of instant grits to buy.

(I so wanted to help them and just point them away from those things.  They are not worth the time they save, for real. Invest in good taste and buy the real things, please.)

I really wanted to get in and get out, so I found myself getting a little frustrated.  I knew exactly what we needed to get, and I had hoped to get home in time to put the groceries away, get a few things done around the house, and maybe even sneak in a nap before I had to be at my next commitment.

But it was taking so long.  Because of all the people.

Then I saw her.  First on one aisle, and then on the next one, where she was waiting patiently on another shopper.

She was a Mama shopping with her daughter who looked to be about the same age as our Princess, maybe 10 or 11.  Only her daughter was in a special kind of stroller.  This Mama was pushing her child and pulling her cart behind them.

And she was smiling.

She never stopped.

And it was a smile that reached all the way to her eyes.

She apologized for having stopped in the aisle and offered to let me go around.

I declined and told her I was fine–I had plenty of time.

And that was the truth.

I had nothing to complain about.

Instead I had a lot of thanks to offer. For a cart full of groceries that we could afford.  For healthy children who will eat the food I had put in the cart.  For a roof over our heads and a kitchen to prepare the food in.  For the ability to push the cart and wander through the store and a car to get all the food home in.

I could go on. And I probably should.

After seeing that sweet Mama, whose light was not diminished by her situation, I was ashamed that I had felt one moment of impatience or frustration.  Some days I can really be self-absorbed, and when I see it, I don’t like it one bit.

Today I’m thankful for the Mama who, because of her smile and her spirit, made what had to be hard look easy.  May we all take on the situations ahead of us, no matter how hard, cloaked in the same–with a light in our eyes, a spring in our step, and a thankful heart.

Love to all.

Grab Ahold Every Chance You Get

This morning when I first went outside, I had prepared myself to see the moth from yesterday in the grass, gone.  But I didn’t.  I tried to believe that maybe, just maybe, she had only been “frolicking” yesterday, as she hovered close to the grass and danced only a few inches before landing once again.

But it was not to be.  A couple of hours later, as the littles and I headed out to run an errand, our Princess saw her just a few feet over in our neighbor’s yard.

She had not made it.

Sometimes my script writing is not so good at really predicting what might happen.

Still my sweet child tried to touch the moth.  I asked her what she was doing and she said sadly, “Just in case she’s still alive…..”

The moth was still on my mind as I took Miss Sophie out for her evening constitutional.  As soon as we walked out the door, I could hear music–loud and happy–from the next street over.  When the song ended, I heard a DJ, a real live, honest to goodness DJ speaking before he played the next song.  The music lent a festive air on this cloudy, cool evening, and for a moment I stopped and hummed along.  Some of my neighbors were out sitting on their front porch.  We visited for a moment, wondering what the celebration was and if they’d mind us joining them.

While I waited for Miss Sophie to do all her sniffs and whatnots, I texted my friend who lives on that street, asking her if the party was hers and teasingly asked why I hadn’t been invited.

It was later tonight that she wrote back, saying that no, it was two doors down from her.  A wedding celebration.  This young Mama, who had just tucked her son into bed, surprised me.  She wasn’t frustrated or worried that her son wouldn’t be able to sleep.  Instead she said she was enjoying the sounds of people celebrating.

You know what?  So was I.

For on this day that started out with the reminder of how short life is for all the little things and us too, it ended with the sound of laughter and music and joyful voices.  Life is too short not to celebrate all the moments, big and small.

I think it can best be summed up in the words of my friend whom I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting in person, Mr. John Paul Schulz, who shares his wit and wisdom daily over at Quotes and Notes Daily.  He commented on the story I wrote yesterday about the sweet dying moth.  He closed, after describing the life cycle of this buckeye moth, with:

“This completes the circle. This is nature, and
everything is going to be all right.”

And so it does.  This day, beginning with sadness and endings, ended with joy and beginnings.  There is such a raw beauty in that–the fulness of life experienced all in one day–that I feel a little raw myself.  A bit melancholy even.

That’s when I reread my friend’s trademark words.  He doesn’t say them for the sake of saying them.  He has lived his own stories–hard and joyful–and he believes them.

“Everything is going to be all right.”  

I don’t know if Mr. Schulz will ever know just how much I needed to hear those words tonight.  For his spirit, his encouragement, his joy and love of life, and his words, I give thanks.  I don’t know how to properly thank him, but if you have a moment to go over and visit him and read a page or two, please tell him I sent you and thank him for me, would you?

I’m also thankful for my neighborfriend who reminded me that we can choose our attitude in the face of the unexpected.  I’m glad she reminded me to choose joy.

Whenever we can, let’s choose joy.  There’s going to be enough of the sad and broken stuff to come along, and that can’t be helped.  It’s the circle of life.  But let’s not forget that joy is an important part of that circle and grab ahold to it every chance we get.

Love and joy to all.

A Moth, A Kitten, and the Light in the Morning Dew

Miss Sophie and I set out on our walk yesterday morning.

The grass was wet with dew and sparkled like a crop of diamonds had grown there overnight.  Nature was showing off her bling.

As we walked on, I noticed a lovely moth in our yard.  So pretty and different looking. Her body was sizable, as were her wings.  They were the loveliest shade of light, light green. She was breathtakingly beautiful.  And there she sat.  Being adored and appreciated, as she should be.

IMG_9579

When  we came back from our morning constitutional, I noticed my new friend seemed to be floundering.  She’d take off, hover just inches above the ground and land, seconds later, only a few inches from where she had begun.  She appeared to be confused or lost or…..

hurt.

I called out for our  Princess to come and get Miss Sophie, so I could focus my attention on the lovely moth.  I approached her as quietly and gently as something that would appear to be a monster or giant could.  I tried to hold my finger out for her to climb on.  I kept thinking if I could get her to dry land, she’d be better off.  Maybe her wings could dry, and she could soar again.  But it seemed that my being close only worried her more.  I looked for a stick, but I could find none.  As I looked a little closer, it appeared to me that in the few minutes I’d been gone, her wings were even more ragged than before.

Had the dew done that?

That quickly?

I found myself about to curse the dew that just a short time before I had been thrilled and mesmerized by.  If I were to curse it now, would that mean I’d want to curse it every single morning?  Would I begin my day with the darkness of anger and sadness weighing on my heart?

Instead, I looked at the little one as she prepared to leave this world.  It’s been a while since I watched one lovely and loved prepare to die–since I had to let go.  It was surreal, with the last of the dew still glistening and the light and warmth from the sun kissing the day as it started off on its journey.

All while this one’s journey was ending.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

I whispered words of thanks for this life, whose beauty crossed my path for such a short while and bid her peace and a painless passing as she eased herself onto the grass for the last time.

Tonight as I thought again about watching one prepare to leave, I remembered something that happened about seven or eight years ago.  Our cat had kittens, and she was funny about moving them until she found just the right spot.  It was almost a game, wondering where did Mama Kitty take her kittens now.  This particular afternoon, I decided to have a little “lie down,” and I went to my bedroom at the back of the house.  I had just closed my eyes, when I heard the persistent mewling of a cat.  A kitten to be exact. I looked out the window and could see nothing.  I went out and followed the sound.  She had moved those kittens up into the top of the playhouse/swingset.  The very top.  And one of them–was it Denim…..or Lace (Aub had named the two black ones herself)–was hanging by its neck between two floorboards.

The little four week old kitten was doing her best to let the world know she didn’t think this was okay.  As soon as I saw her, I moved quickly and lifted her gently out of her predicament.  She meowed a couple more time, rather indignantly, I might add, and then she settled down and was ready to go about her business of being a kitten.

A precious little life.

I’m not sure why that came to my mind tonight when I thought back to yesterday and the moth and other times I’ve said goodbye.  I’m glad it did.  It made me smile to remember one time that we had a happy ending.  The one time that my wanting a nap served us all well.  The one time I didn’t have to say goodbye and let someone I loved go.

Tonight I’m thankful for the light and the dewdrops and long lives well lived.  I’m thankful for the tears that fall for the lovely and loved whom we have to let go. The darkness cannot hold me, for the morning will come and bring with it the sun and the light and the dew.

And hope.

For it is not all black and white, joyful or sad, kind or evil, good or bad.

And neither are any of us.

May we all seek and find some light in the midst of the dark, hope in the pain of loss.

Love to all.