Light the lanterns…I have arrived Kathleen Dean ~ Dec 28, 2014
Your memories called out to me; I walked to your heart and found my own.
I almost imagined your smile; like an unfinished letter, it was impossible to call you back.
At your death, they painfully denied my request to go with you.
“Is it the fare?” I asked. “There is enough money.
Maybe I need to get my bag packed first.
Do I need to call anyone? Why can’t I go too?”
The guardian at the door stood silent not answering a single question.
“I must turn you away is not your turn, not yet, some day.”
Despite his remark, I decided to wait feeling that if he saw my pain the Almighty might change his mind.
“I will grab a brick and break a window!”
I was prepared to explain what a wonderful husband you were. Surely, he will understand how much I will miss you.
“I am willing to pay the fee.”
No amount of money or tears will bring you back. Truth is you have never left.
I move on through the days and nights opening up each one carefully with the knowledge that I would find a glimpse of your, our, life.
There they were I eagerly started toward them. Our wedding day; the first thing I saw was you sitting in the ER at Mercy Hospital because you had rice stuck in your left ear.
The nurse laughed, “So you’re the reason I could not sleep, all those cars that were being driven up and down my street blowing their horns. Maybe I ought to leave that rice in there.”
We felt so lost when the bank manager rejected our request for a loan. We had applied in not one, but three different banks to purchase a home. To think they claimed we were too young.
Grandpa Brown told us not to worry, “Buying a house was like catching a street car. Another one would come along.”
A month later, we were able to get our dream place along the shores of Knox Lake.
Not all doors open up into a pleasant memory. There are some where no one answers my calls for help. In my darkest hours, I sense thee, by smell of laughter mixed in with shades of light as the sun peeps over the trees.
Shaking off depression I feel more than hear a voice,
“This will work out you are not alone.”
So far, I have managed not to do myself in, cause an accident, or bodily injury. Some mornings I must look like the wicked witch of the west though.
It is amazing what a bath and a little make-up can do for a body.
“So where do you think you’re going?”
…I do not know.
I was beginning to believe that there were no more rooms left… all vacant, all dark.
Pain lurks in the shadows, I have found book of matches that will light my way.
There are many days and years ahead for me. They are pointing towards tomorrow, carefully selected.
It was made with love, like you and I, stretching upward to the sky.
Intricate, colourful, created with care. I shall wear it everywhere.
We are all like the pendant woven together, each with our own talent and gift.
Each moment, a blessing, a lesson, a story, a parable to give your heart a lift.
This wee tree of life, has opened my heart. Its joy and the gratitude I wish to impart.
The wondrous maiden, creator of the gift, is a Mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister and friend.
She is the Mother of my great-niece and great-nephew. Her talent knows no end.
The healing in this pendant is hard to express. It has moved me very deeply. It is an instrument of passion, compassion..much, much, more,, but I digress!
The love in pendant brings forward to me that we are all together under the Creator’s tree. Tying together my family, friends, dear hearts, loved ones, even those on the far distant shore. It is so full of love, need I say more?
Thank you dear Brandie, for making this gift. I watch in wonder at the hours you spend creating, giving, planning, editing, to give others a lift. Your heart always bends. Your calming nature, your great photography. I am always in awe of them. Now I can carry this symbol of your talent and love with me.
Each bead, is a blessing. Each twist of the wire, A gift made of loveand an artist’s desire.
I shall step into this pendant and find….
More trees of life before I recline.
From some copper wire, beads you have made a treasure divine.
That reaches deeply into this heart of mine.
The grace and the beauty of each copper coil’s turn
Is a teaching, a blessing, and something to learn.
The spaces in our lives, as we grow and branch out
One Sunday, whilst I was attending church with my Sister In Love….my gift to her…I was given the following poem when the members of the church were taking communion.
I, in the interim, was taking dictation. This poem was written in under twenty minutes. It has taken me weeks to find it again That day I was communing with Spirit in my form of worship July 21,2013. I want to give this to her and share it with you during her holy season.
Thank you for this sleeping porch and the peace I have found within it. Help me to forget past mistakes Lord. There is a better way, and easier one, I am sure only now, I cannot find it without your continual guidance.
The story behind the poem…
The Sleeping Porch by: Kathleen Dean Written late summer 2007 after the lost of my father, Art Brown.
We have all had those days when you wanted to scream “I am just so tired Lord.” Or “Oh, for the enjoyment of peace from worries for just one day Lord.” Do not feel discouraged. Our Heavenly Father has promised his faithful children rest from turmoil if we but follow him. The here and now: Exodus 33:14 “And he said, my presence shall go with thee and I will give thee rest.” He invites us to come to him: Matthew 11:28-29 “Come unto me, all ye that are heavy laden and I will give you rest. And for the future: Revelation 14:13 “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth; Yea saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors; and their works shall follow them.” God will give us peace of mind when we call on Him in faith believing. But where will we go to find this peace?
In the early mid 1900’s many homes had a porch that one could rest on for the afternoon nap or for a visit after dinner with family. Usually there was a front porch plus a screened-in porch that was located at the back of the home for more privacy. Our wringer-washer and tubs sat on our back-porch. The front porch was a wee-bit fancier. Besides the usual table and chairs there were a few stands for flowers and a comfortable rocking chair. At one end of the porch would be a long Davenport placed near the living-room window. It was waiting, inviting, for someone to take an afternoon nap or possibly even to sleep there all night when the weather was hot and sticky. This outdoor room was an extension of the home. Most people referred to the closed in room as the sleeping porch. This is where my idea for “THE SLEEPING PORCH” came from. One evening my heart was heavy with burdens. I needed some of peace in my life and found it in our Heavenly Father’s sleeping porch.