Thursday, September 28, 2006

Lately I'm always just so rushed for time, my early morning Quiet Times have been seriously cut short. And as if that doesn't make me feel terribly guilty already, I just read this little poem. Ouch.

I knelt to pray but not for long
I had too much to do.
I had to hurry and get to work
for bills would soon be due.
So I knelt and said a hurried prayer
and jumped up off my knees.
My Christian duty was now done
My soul could rest at ease.
All day long I had no time
to spread a word of cheer,
no time to speak of Christ to friends,
they'd laugh at me I'd fear.
No time, no time, too much to do
That was my constant cry,
no time to give to souls in need
But at last the time, the time to die.
I went before the Lord,
I came, I stood with downcast eyes.
For in his hands God held a book;
It was the book of life.
God looked into his book and said
"Your name I cannot find.
I once was going to write it down...
but never found the time."

Monday, September 25, 2006

Of Legs and Feet and Strappy Heels

I've never really been into strappy heels until this Easter when I got me the white ones. Now if there's one thing I like most about myself it's my feet. I think I have passably good-lookin' feet even if I do say so myself :D But strappy heels are murder to move around with and at one time I felt they made me look underdressed and horribly exposed! Basically you just need superb balance and lots of attitude to carry them off creditably. Maybe I'm finally getting there :o)

Saturday, September 16, 2006

Little Things Mean a Lot

This is an old song that used to be big in the 50s. I've never actually heard it but the lyrics were in an old songbook that we had around the house for as long as I can remember. And little things do mean a lot to me...a thank you for something apparently trivial, keeping your word by calling when you say you'll call general, just little touches that speak tons of good manners and breeding. In friendship, in love, in courtship, in basic interpersonal relationships, they get my vote for gallantry anyday!

blow me a kiss from across the room
say I look nice when i'm not
touch my hair as you pass my chair
little things mean a lot.
give me your arm as we cross the street
call me at six on the dot
a line a day when you're far away
little things mean a lot.
don't have to buy me diamonds or pearls
champagne, sables, and such
i never cared much for diamonds and pearls
'cause honestly, honey, they just cost money
give me a hand when i've lost the way
give me your shoulder to cry on
whether the day is bright or gray
give me your heart to rely on
send me the warmth of a secret smile
to show me you haven't forgot
for now and forever, that's always and ever
honey, little things mean a lot.


Sunday, September 10, 2006

Message in a Bottle

My love is not fragile
It will not leave you
You are in my heart
and my soul
Everything that I am
you are a part of

Know that I cherish you
I always will

Saturday, September 09, 2006


Something I came across in a newspaper several years ago sometime after my mother upped and left to join my father in the Great Cancerless Home Up Yonder. It dealt not just with the usual trappings of bereavement but with transitions I'd had to make, something that no one had ever really talked to me about. Maybe they didn't know, maybe they didn't feel they could quite properly address the issue, maybe they figured I'd just work it out on my own somehow. Fact is this article spoke to me. I've treasured the clipping for all these years, even taking a printout for a friend who'd also lost a second parent....

Sometime ago, a cousin of mine lost her father. Seriously ill for several years, he had deteriorated in his last year to being little better than a vegetable. Confined for months to a hospital bed and unable to swallow, see or speak, the poor man led a wretched existence. To see him on her daily visits to the hospital brought nothing but pain. Emotionally wrapped up as she was in his illness, she prayed fervently that he may be spared any further torment. Yet when her prayers were finally answered, my cousin was devastated. Even her mother’s unexpected death a few years earlier had not affected her so deeply, though she was particularly close to her. How then was one to explain the intensity of her emotions at her father’s death when, to all intents and purposes, he had not been around for a long time, and when she herself had hoped for a merciful release both for him and for the rest of the family?

Apparently, according to psychologists, her reaction was a very normal one. The death of the last surviving parent can trigger unexpectedly strong feelings even in adults who have stood on their own feet for a long time and shouldered the responsibility of looking after their own children. Nor does having dealt before with the death of someone close to them alter the situation. And the reason, we are told, is that they are faced with making the transition to being part of the oldest living generation in the family. It is a subtle shift in roles that carries profound implications, though these may not always be consciously recognized.

A friend who has lost both parents once explained to me how she felt. “I started thinking of my own mortality,” she said. “The death of my father, and then my mother suddenly made me realize that I no longer had all the time in the world to attain my goals.

“But it was another aspect of the situation that affected me more. You always imagine that your parents are indestructible, that they are a permanent part of your life, that they will always be around to care for you, and this has nothing to do with being dependent on them or being in close touch. In fact, even when there is a reversal of roles, and the child looks after the parent instead of the other way around, with your parents alive, you feel there is always someone there for you. When you lose one parent, you still feel you have the other to turn to. But the death of the second parent forces you to relinquish the psychological security you have always had, and take up the responsibility of becoming the older generation. It is a particularly distressing prospect to face.

“For many, parents represent a connection to the larger family and its past through memories and stories that you now must make sure does not disappear. You find yourself reassessing your relationships with members of the family, and very often this results in making the effort to become closer. You find yourself providing the cement that holds the family together, that till recently just the existence of your parents did. And finally you accept the fact that both your parents have gone, and left you to take their place.”

It is now almost a year since my cousin lost her father. She is still coming to terms with being part of the older generation, but perhaps it will not be too long before she accepts the transition she has to make.

– Pakshi Vasudeva,
The Telegraph, 18 August 1995