Gretchen Louise

not bad news

It was hard to think of it as bad news when it came.  Dan was so ready to go Home.  A year and a half is a long time to deal with brain cancer in an earthly, pain-wracked body. Now, he has a new body.  No more pain, no more tears. But last Saturday we…

Other mothers

This weekend is for celebrating and loving on our mothers and the maternal figures in our lives. But in the midst of the special breakfasts and pretty flowers, my heart is with some other mothers.  Who are not celebrated.  But who need even more loving on than the others. One such mother has graciously allowed…

On days like today…

On days like today…

On days like today, I decide to hang out the laundry even though there are grey clouds in the sky, knowing that laundry brings rain, knowing that we need rain for the fields and our newly-planted grass. On days like today, I pause to admire my laundry hampers—one, made in Africa of elephant grass and…

Mommy Time

Ru girl, You had to get down from the high chair to go potty Sunday night during dinner.  When you got back, you wanted up on Mommy’s lap instead of back in your high chair.  “Do you need some Mommy time?” I asked. You emphatically agreed.  And even when little sister loudly let us know…

Delicia

Delicia

You’ve heard about Patty Reed’s Doll.  You’ve read of Hitty.  And of course everyone knows Raggedy Ann.  But have you ever read The Story of Delicia? It was my grandmother’s book.  I grew up reading a photocopy of the precious original, that was enclosed with pink construction paper to match the pink board cover of…

A Promise Kept

A Promise Kept.  Such a simple phrase.  In a short little book.  With a lifetime of meaning. My husband’s grandfather already had Alzheimer’s when I met him.  I only saw Grandpa twice.  I only saw a shadow of the personality that was his.  But Grandpa’s military photo from the 1940’s?  That smile is the same…

“Touch my toes”

I stumbled through the kitchen.  Bleary-eyed from a night in which I was up with one girl or another more times than I could even remember to count. My husband and daughter were getting breakfast on the table.  I surveyed their progress, stretching as I stood there. “I stwetch, too, Mommy!”  My two-year-old raised her…

The End.

The End.