A Rhymer Writes

Broken things Broken swings. Broken days,  Broken ways. Broken prayers, Broken cares. Broken things Won't break me. Have you ever allowed something small to hinder something big in your life? My personal prayer spot use to be this old, well loved swing in my front yard. It was a favorite spot of mine. I swang my babies on it when they were tiny. I've had lots of long conversations on it through the years. I've cried with friends and family there. I've laughed with loved ones on it.  I especially loved to sit there in the early morning with a cup of tea or coffee, my prayer journal and God. Several months ago it broke. Since then I've really been struggling to resurrect my prayer life. I have been mourning my "perfect" prayer spot and not allowing myself to move on. Sure, I've spent time in prayer since my swing broke but it hasn't been the same, concerted, focused effort that it use to be.  Why? Perhaps because we're such...

Memories are powerful things. They can bring emotions to the  forefront of your mind with the whiff of a familiar scent or the sight of a treasured object. A funny joke can make you remember someone dear who use to tell it. Something that was irritating to you becomes endearing in your memory of that person.  We lost my mother in law to cancer several years back. In the first few years the memories of her were so painful to me. I would often associate them with my loss. As the years have passed it has become so much easier to remember her with love, with a chuckle, with the fondness that we shared. Losing her was losing my best friend. It was hard to sort through all of the emotions. Those early memories, while painful, yes, were cathartic. They helped me to heal. And now that they aren't so raw they bring me great comfort. One memory that I love about my mother in law was her devotion to the discount store  Dollar Tree.  She loved to shop there. And she did...