I found one of my old poems. I would have never written it this way now but kind of like it anyways.
A Mother’s Jewelry
The pendant Hangs
regal and stately.
a book rests open
sorts of tales take shape
and pregnant words become
As they are spoken.
Still she reads, pages attend.
Her rings clink and clank.
gold shimmers stone flashes
as picture in the eye.
heart ranked, mind outflanked,
Still she reads, pages bend.
Surely such rings were forged
to be knelt before, kissed by
priests, advisers councilors of old
her veins they enfold.
Still she reads, pages descend.
My 4 yr old daughter: I want a book with deep paintings. I mean, Richard Scarry is cute but not deep, it doesn’t have deep paintings.
Your hands hold fast against the glassed
and banded lobsters. Riveted
by these still silent cramped captives,
their stroking antennas, you stare
She picked out her outfit today:
Bee Venom Therapy is going well. I feel so much better this month. Maybe it’s the combination of bees and sunshine. My husband has noticed the improvement too.
My Husband: Your looking good- young. Your looking how I remember you.
(My daughter is responding well to the antibiotics and seems to be her normal self. Aside from the bulls-eye rash she is not symptomatic, Praise God! I pray her healing continues.)
Excellent article: The Myth of Progress in the Arts
“What is progress? In culture, and especially in high culture, progress is the attempt to make something better, which implies hierarchical thinking: if there is something better, this means that there is also something worse. During the Italian Renaissance, artists strove to make things better, to paint better, to build better, to compose better (read Giorgio Vasari’s The Lives of the Artists). In their time, they were modern as a result of their intention to be better, and not the other way around.”
Please keep my sweet two year old daughter in your prayers. I found a terrible bulls-eye rash on her arm and she was diagnosed with Lyme disease today. The Dr. put her on antibiotics. (She is too young for Bee venom therapy). Please pray for her healing.
Yes! I say this all the time!
My Grande-ma had ten children*, one died in her arms, Joseph Cornelius. He was six months old. Although he died in 1920, even I know of him as a sweet baby, a spotless innocent eager to intercede for us.
My mother says that Grande-Ma always spoke of little Joesph’s untimely death with sadness and faith. She told her children to ask little Joseph to intercede for them and later she encouraged her grandchildren to ask for his prayers.
Those who were close to her at the time, said that her strong faith and love for baby Joseph, her surrendering to God’s will at his death, was one of her most enduring and endearing lessons.
*After the birth of her first baby she nearly died. The Dr. told her not to have anymore. She laughed and said what better way to die than to bring new souls into this world? The rest of her deliveries were uncomplicated.
The Chapel veil and Women’s rights:
Here is what we all need to realize about the chapel veil: it is a form of devotion to God that is only open to a woman. This means that it is a strictly feminine form of prayer that excludes men.