Haiku

Haiku: A Japanese poetic form. Traditional haiku consist of 17 syllables, in three phrases of 5, 7 and 5 on respectively.

My 4th grader learned about haiku and was asked to make one for a school project. It must have stirred up the poet in him, because he came home and started writing several of them. He let us pick any subject, then he ran into his room and produced these poems for us. I just wanted to share them with y’all on my blog.

Haiku

Like some great haiku?

Go to my great haiku store.

You pick the subject!

Bedtime

Bedtime makes me yawn.

Bedtime is parent heaven,

time for kids to sleep.

Jelly Beans

Jelly beans taste good.

Each bean has a different taste.

Feed it to “Om-Nom”

Tiger

Tigers have big roars.

They hunt, kill, and eat it’s prey

Don’t feed it a friend!

Garlic

It’s a smelly spice

If you ask mom, it smells bad.

Evacuate now!

Tomato

You use it in food.

Simon and dad like it’s taste.

Tastes like candy corn.

Life is Precious!

This is supposed to be a photo of a fetus at 12 weeks gestation that I ran across on FaceBook recently. My first thought was “Yeah, it might be a true representation of the size and physical development the baby would be at that age. Although the picture is obviously a very manipulated photo to serve a certain purpose.” I was sceptical to it’s authenticity.

But then I started thinking back to the life-changing December of 2003…..

I was ready! Our first-born child was little over a year old. A sweet, always smiling, easy-going little guy, the apple of our eye. I felt it was the perfect timing to try again and add another bundle of joy to our family, and having siblings 2 years apart was the ultimate arrangement in my eyes. But as we women have this awkward thing called “intuition” ….. there was a faint little voice, a barely noticeable feeling, way, way back there somewhere, trying to gently tell me “this is not the right time, and you need to stop pushing your own agenda.”

I did however get pregnant quickly, as I had hoped, and everything was going according to my plan. I was excited, but didn’t have much time to think about the pregnancy, as I was now chasing after a very busy toddler. It was Thanksgiving, I was 8 weeks along, and we were invited to a dinner with friends. During the dinner I felt it stronger than ever; wouldn’t it be “typical God” to let me lose this baby, so I can better comfort other women who have miscarried? I quickly pushed the though aside as we left our friend behind and went back to our everyday lives.

At 10 weeks along, I went in for my Doppler, my first chance to hear that there was another heart beating inside of me. The inexperienced technician did not find one. The midwife tried and could not find one, either. Thus they concluded it was a little too early to find a heartbeat and they would try again next week.

2 days later, I started bleeding…. First a little, then some more. I was terrified! The midwife told me this could be normal, drink lots of water, rest, keep your legs up, etc. I did. The bleeding decreased some. Did I mention my husband was working out-of-town all day and I was alone with the before mentioned very busy toddler? By evening, the bleeding increased and I started panicking. Reality was setting in, I was still alone and by now I was hysterically sobbing, PLEADING for my baby’s life, praying more desperately than I had EVER done before.

Following morning, my husband and I went to the midwife who listened to my story and still tried to encourage me that she had seen similar scenarios turn out fine and as long as I was not bleeding “clots” there was still hope. She was about to dismiss us when I told her about “my feeling”. She looked a little surprised, then ordered an immediate ultrasound.

We got to see our baby on the ultrasound monitor. A well-formed, tiny baby, curled up in typical “fetal position”…… no heartbeat, died of unknown causes at approximately 8 weeks of life…. I wish I had been in my right mind to ask for a photo, but I didn’t think about it. All I could do was to stare at the screen, wishing there would have been the familiar sound of a fast lub-dub to go with it.

Some would argue “what a cruel God you believe in”. I didn’t see it that way. I wasn’t mad at Him. After all, He had tried to warn me, and even after I ignored Him, He kept on whispering to me, promising that my pain would not be in vain and that He had not forsaken me and that He loved me and my baby dearly.

The next 2 weeks, I grieved deeply, cried myself to sleep every night, had a cloud hanging over me every day, fear and despair gripping me. But on the other hand, I felt like God was carrying me through it, healing my heart and my body faster than I had imagined possible, letting me appreciate all the life surrounding me and not ever taking it for granted. And to top it off, He told me that the child he had taken to heaven was a little girl and her name was “Ellie”. I knew it was God telling me this, because like most pregnant women, I had spent hours thinking about and looking up baby-names, and “Ellie” was never one I had considered or even noticed. When I later looked it up I broke down sobbing again; “Ellie” means “consecrated to God”. She was chosen, special, and had a purpose, even at 8 weeks of life.

So back to the FaceBook photo; Yes, it is manipulated to show how amazing Creation is and how awesome the Creator is, but I can testify that the baby in the picture looks a lot like my precious Ellie. I can’t wait to see you again some day, my little girl. Your daddy and brothers can’t wait to meet you, either. For yes, 6 weeks later, in God’s perfect timing, I became pregnant again, and we were blessed with another healthy, loving, sweet baby boy.

Entitled People are unsuccessful people.

I am currently listening to the audio version of a book called “From Innocence to Entitlement” by Dawn Billings and Jim Fay. WOW, is this convicting stuff!!! Book and CD’s are available at our local library and EVERY parent should read/hear this. We are unknowingly raising a generation of self-centered, incapable, rude, unprepared little being because we’re so afraid of our children going through problematic things – also known as LIFE. This has been a major eye-opener to me as I’m looking back on years with “rescuing” my own kids from difficulties, thereby robbing them of valuable life lessons.

On the other hand, I would like to challenge Mr Fay, the well-known child rearing expert, as to how his “Love and Logic” strategies hold up to a child with special circumstances. The “logic” part doesn’t go very far when dealing with a child who has VERY underdeveloped reasoning and logic capabilities.

I will update later when I’ve processed the materials some more…

Pam’s Story

I read about a woman named Pam, who knows the pain of considering abortion. More than 24 years ago, she and her husband Bob were serving as missionaries to the Philippines and praying for a fifth child. Pam contracted amoebic dysentery, an infection of the intestine caused by a parasite found in contaminated food or drink. She went into a coma and was treated with strong antibiotics before they discovered she was pregnant.

 

Doctors urged her to abort the baby for her own safety and told her that the medicines had caused irreversible damage to her baby. She refused the abortion and cited her Christian faith as the reason for her hope that her son would be born without the devastating disabilities physicians predicted. Pam said the doctors didn’t think of it as a life, they thought of it as a mass of fetal tissue.

While pregnant, Pam nearly lost their baby four times but refused to consider abortion. She recalled making a pledge to God with her husband: If you will give us a son, we’ll name him Timothy and we’ll make him a preacher.

Pam ultimately spent the last two months of her pregnancy in bed and eventually gave birth to a healthy baby boy August 14,

1987. Pam’s youngest son is indeed a preacher. He preaches in prisons, makes hospital visits, and serves with his father’s ministry in the Philippines. He also plays football. Pam’s son is Tim Tebow.

The University of Florida’s star quarterback became the first sophomore in history to win college football’s highest award, the Heisman Trophy. His current role as quarterback of the Denver Broncos has provided an incredible platform for Christian witness. As a result, he is being called The Mile-High Messiah.

Tim’s notoriety and the family’s inspiring story have given Pam numerous opportunities to speak on behalf of women’s centers across the country. Pam Tebow believes that every little baby you save matters.

Snow storm of October 26th 2011

On October 26^th 2011, we had a large snowfall during the night. It was one of those really wet, early fall snows that took people by surprise. The trees, still covered with beautiful orange leaves paid the prize. School was canceled in many of Colorado’s districts, and we were one of them. So I didn’t have a chance to see the local impact of the storm until the next morning.

As I drove 3 excited boys to Eaton in heavy fog and frigid temperatures, there was not much to see. But when I pulled into town, my mouth dropped. Chubby, long branches had snapped off the well established, old trees along the streets. The fenced in corner of the school yard, where I had picked up my boys for years, was now barricaded by large limbs. Strangely, the fence was still standing straight, with 10-15 ft branches leaning on it. Piles of branches littering the road-sides, the snow still clinging on to them due to the cold temperature. If it wasn’t for the snow, one might think a tornado had just gone through the neighborhoods.

The devastation was astonishing. But amidst all the rubble, there was peace and beauty. Not just the sobering reminders of winter and upcoming holiday joy, but also nature at it’s peak of life. Majestic evergreens swaying ever so little under the weight of wet whiteness. Leaf-trees that had been busy reaching for the sky were now bowing low, touching the ground, as if they were witnessing a royal parade. Some smaller trees were in desperate need of a chiropractic treatment due to a yoga session gone terribly wrong.

The sun’s stubborn rays, relentlessly and slowly burning through the fog, lighting up the grey tree skeletons, making them alive again against the increasingly blue sky. The park was beautiful with it’s newly laid carpet and even though it’s “furniture” was somewhat rearranged, it still beckoned for children to come and play.

Some corn fields still had not been harvested. The brown, dry stalks had put up a good fight, but were no match for the weight of nature’s mighty hand. Most of them had broken in half, but the hardier ones were just bent over. Thought the fog was lifting, the lakes were still steaming with dark grey moisture, like the smoke from a raging forest fire.

Days like these compel me to grab some cross-country skis and an SLR camera. But since I have neither, I made do with my handy little CoolPix and hoped for at least one photo that was National Geographic worthy…

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Advice For Life

 

People are often unreasonable,

 illogical and self centered;

Forgive them anyway

If you are kind, people may accuse you

 of selfish, ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway

If you are successful,

you will win some false friends and some true enemies;

Succeed anyway

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;

Be honest anyway

What you spend years building,

someone could destroy overnight;

Build anyway

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;

Be happy anyway

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you’ve got anyway

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;

It’s never between you and them anyway

Mother Theresa

You will need Kleenexes

This story was shared during a MOPS meeting. Don’t think there was a dry eye in the audience. Hormones or not, this story captures what it’s like to be a mom.

The Price of Motherhood

Author Unknown

  Time is running out for my friend.  We are sitting at lunch when she casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of “starting a family”.  What she means is that her biological clock has begun its countdown and she is being forced to consider the prospect of motherhood.

          “We’re taking a survey,” she says, half jokingly.  “Do you think I should have a baby?” “It will change your life,” I say carefully, keeping my tone neutral. “I know,” she says.  “No more sleeping in on Saturdays, no more spontaneous vacations…”

          But that is not what I mean at all.  I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her.

          I want her to know what she will never learn in her childbirth classes.  I want to tell her that the physical wounds of childbirth heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will be forever vulnerable. 

          I consider warning her that she will never read a newspaper again without asking, “What if that had been my child?”  That every plane crash, every fire will haunt her.  That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will look at the mothers and wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

          I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think she should know that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will immediately reduce her to the primitive level of a she-bear protecting her cub.  That a slightly urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop her soufflé or her best crystal without a moment’s hesitation.  That the anger she will feel if that call came over a lost toy will be a joy she has never before experienced.

          I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood.  She might successfully arrange for childcare, but one day she will be waiting to go into an important business meeting, and she will think about her baby’s sweet smell.  She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure he is alright.

          I want my friend to know that everyday routine decisions will no longer be routine.  That a visit to a fast food restaurant and a five-year-old boy’s understandable desire to go the men’s room rather than the women’s room will become a major dilemma.  That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighted against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in the restroom.  I want her to know that however decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother. 

          Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but will never feel the same about herself.  That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child.  That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not so much to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish his.  I want her to know that a caesarean scar of shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.

          My friend’s relationship with her husband will change, I know, but not in the way she thinks.  I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is always careful when wiping the baby’s bottom or who never hesitates to play “bad guy” with his son.  I think she should know that she will fall in love with her husband again for reasons she would now find very unromantic. 

          I wish my modern friend could sense the bond she will feel with other women throughout history who have tried desperately to stop war and prejudice and drunk driving.  I hope she will understand why I think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of terrorism to my children’s future.

          I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your son learn to hit a baseball.  I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first time.  I want her to taste the joy that is so real it hurts. 

          My friend’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.  “You’ll never regret it,” I say finally.  Then I reach across the table, and squeezing my friend’s hand, I offer a prayer for her and me and all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this holiest of callings.

One of my favorite kids’ books

You are my I love you

I am your parent                       you are my child

I am your quiet place                 you are my wild

I am your calm face                   you are my giggle

I am your wait                          you are my wiggle

I am your carriage ride               you are my king

I am your push                           you are my swing

I am your audience                    you are my clown

I am your London Bridge           you are my falling down

I am your carrot sticks               you are my licorice

I am your dandelion                  you are my first wish

I am you water wings               you are my deep

I am your open arms                  you are my running leap

I am your way home                  you are my new path

I am your dry towel                   you are my wet bath

I am your dinner                        you are my chocolate cake

I am your bedtime                      you are my wide awake

I am your finish line                  you are my race

I am your praying hands            you are my saying grace

I am your favorite book              you are my new lines

I am your night-light                 you are my sunshine

I am your lullaby                       you are my peekaboo

I am your good-night kiss           you are my I love you

Maryann K. Cusimano

The accompanying illustrations are adorable. A great gift for that new mother-to-be.

Advice for Life

Advice for Life

People are often unreasonable,

 illogical and self centered;

Forgive them anyway

If you are kind, people may accuse you

 of selfish, ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway

If you are successful,

you will win some false friends and some true enemies;

Succeed anyway

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;

Be honest anyway

What you spend years building,

someone could destroy overnight;

Build anyway

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;

Be happy anyway

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you’ve got anyway

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;

It’s never between you and them anyway

Mother Theresa

Thank you, God!

Thank you for your faithfulness

When I am so unfaithful

Thank you for your unfailing love

When I am such a failure

Thank you for your forgiveness

When I cling on to bitterness

Thank you for your mercy

When I ignore you yet again

Thank you for your grace

When I make such a mess of my life

Thank you for your comfort

When I feel so sorry for myself

Thank you for your direction

When I lose my way

Thank you for your hope

When my world seems so dark

Thank you for standing by me

When I tell you to “bug off”

Thank you for carrying me

When I can’t take another step

Thank you for listening

Even when I whine and complain

Thank you for disciplining me

When I stray too far from your will

Thank you for letting me bore you

With my simple poetry

By Maria Reichel, 2009