Just a little late...Merry Christmas!!!

With lots of love and wishes of peace and joy
from the Dragonfly house

Decorating Ornaments, aka Messy Craft Time

*for Wordless Wednesday*

Life

note: There's no specific badness going on, this is an old poem. I wasn't feeling a poetry vibe today but I couldn't resist the Monday Mission call for a poetry post; I looked through some of my old poems and this one just sort of spoke to me. So...

I want to understand, but the question is too big.

It's so strange
that the world and everyone
goes on when I feel stopped.
The sky is heavy.
There's a weight on my chest
that has nothing to do with anything
I can touch. My mortality screams
in my ears today, tells me
nothing is forever.

I think I am immune to life,
but I am fooling myself.

I want to put my fist
through a window,
to watch my knuckles bleed,
to feel pain,
to feel something.

I am cold inside.
Even my tears are cold.

I smile, say No, don't worry
about me. I'm fine, but I'm not
fine at all. I feel like throwing up,
like maybe if I empty my stomach
I can get rid of yesterday
and start over.

april 2000

I wrote this the day after I found out my grandpa had an inoperable brain tumor. He died a few weeks later. Thankfully all of his kids and all of his grandkids were able to make the trip from Michigan to Florida to see him before he died. It was an overwhelming whirlwind of sickness, travel, sadness, tears, and death.

Been thinking a lot about mortality lately. We get these emails called Red Messages - after the family is notified (in person, of course), a message is sent to the rest of the unit to let them know when a soldier has been killed. The messages always include the "survivors"...and the Little Mister gets so many extra hugs when there are kids! I worry about the Sergeant, of course, but not as much as many spouses. He never leaves the base, he's relatively safe. My best friend's husband, though...he's being deployed to the Middle East for the third time next month, and he's infantry, so he'll be in danger pretty much every day. No wonder this poem jumped out at me.

But, on the flip side, there is joy. Life. Live it! Live every single day. It's something I need to remember. At the moment I'm drowning in Christmas cards (40 down, 26 to go) and I've been so focused on them the past few days that I've been doing less fun stuff with the Little Mister. We play, but I haven't made an effort to get out paint, or markers or other Messy Stuff (which he loves, of course). So tomorrow (he's in bed now) my goal is to have fun with my son. And if someone's Christmas card is late...well, that's life.

1.5

The Little Mister is 18 months old now.

How does this happen?

Today (well, yesterday now, I guess) my once-tiny little boy held my hand and walked up the stairs with me.

And since it was also St. Nicholas Day there were a few little presents in his boots this morning; he is now the proud owner of his very own markers, which, as you can see, he loves.

I don't think I can deny it anymore...he really is a toddler.

Trimming the Tree

*for Wordless Wednesday*

The Christmas Story??

Did you know that Mary was a pilot? When it was time to go she and Joseph rented a plane and flew to Bethlehem.


The inn was full when they arrived, so Mary had to give birth to her baby in a stable. She named him Jesus. They were watched over by a guardian sheep.

Three wise men and a young Hawaiian girl traveled from afar to bring gifts to the newborn king...

...but suddenly they were trampled by a giant!!!

The Hawaiian girl was the lone survivor, arriving in Bethlehem to present the young Jesus with a small blue cell phone.

Watch out, guardian sheep! The giant is back!

This post is brought to you with lots of help from the Little Mister for Painted Maypole's Monday Mission - to write a post as a children's story. This is a nostalgic Monday Mission...I did it last January too. Fun! :)