The Space Between

”Faith from Ruin” last time ~ Graceful Kindness

“Good morning Mommy!” her tiny voice chimed. “Are you awake?”

Clara stretched and turned her head toward her daughter. A laugh caught in her yawn “I am now. Let’s get dressed and go see Miss Ida.”

“For cookies?”

“I don’t know Button. It’s rude to ask, but if she offers, sure.”

After showers and some much needed girl primping, they slipped on light jackets against the brisk Northern air that blew in overnight. This time the office was warmly lit, and the door unlocked. Clara closer her eyes and breathed in the smell of fresh brewed coffee. She saw a beautifully set side table, resplendent with treats and delicate cups for coffee. She hadn’t noticed the welcoming warmth of the tiny lobby the night before.

Sharons table & cookies

“Clara! How wonderful. Did you and Lucy sleep well last night? Help yourself to a cup of coffee and a cookie.”

They stepped over to the table. Clara poured a cup of coffee and handed a cookie to Lucy and took one for herself.

“Ida, thank you so much for your kindness. Shall we get thing squared away?”

Waving her off Ida smiled wide and pooh-poohed, “Oh, pshh! I can see plain as day you need a place for a bit. Just fill out a room card and don’t even worry about the rest.”

Her eyes widened and filled she stammered, “I-I don’t know how you know, but I-I can’t thank you enough.”

She turned away, sniffled swiping at her eyes. “Um, can you tell me where St. James Church is? I, um, well I need to find it.”

“Sure thing sweetie. Come look at the town map.”


Clara couldn’t explain why she trusted Ida completely, but she took her up on the offer to watch Lucy while she went to St. James. She parked her silver Malibu on the street in front of the church. The church was like a miniature Gothic cathedral, complete with a tower and steeply pitched roof which made it appear much taller. Her sneakers squeaked on the shiny marble floors. She dipped fingers into cool Holy water and blessed silently, Father-Son-Holy Spirit. She drifted forward quietly, slid into a pew, first seated on the cool oak then kneeling on sunken, well-worn kneelers.

The familiar comfort of echoes, and groans always found within sacred walls, eased her worries, walls where she felt safe from pain. Eyes closed she saw arms stretch out to her offering warmth and repose. She heard occasional quiet tap tap taps and kneelers creak as other mortals came and went.

Clara slowly calmed into steady tranquility as her internal conversation continued and the space between the turmoil of her flight, and the peace where her soul truth dwelt was bridged.


Write at the Merge-Week 36

This week at Write at the Merge we were given this for inspiration:

“This week, I’m going to ask you to write about the space between, the pause between two events using the following as prompts: Led Zepplin’s Ramble On or Dave Matthews Band ‘The Space Between’. I’m going to ask you to write about the space between, the pause between two events”

I’m a huge Dave Matthews fan back before they were big and touring all over the Northern US playing in small venues and stacking up fans. Of course, I chose The Space Between and lucky me, it is perfect for Faith from Ruin.

Photo of cookies and coffee provided lovingly by my dear friend Sharon. A piece of her heavenly home.

Oh Heavenly Day

balloons in the sky

He watches clouds billow and dance. Amid the shape-shifting  forms another appears, bouncy and unchanging. His angel retrieves and delivers the white balloon to the boy. Clapping gleefully, he receives the kisses and wishes.

Balloon messages

They see a glittering trail where the message traveled from below. A shiny dimpled face dances and sings while two more smiles sigh “Right now, the only thing we really have to do, is have ourselves a heavenly day.”


The boy watches, more balloons appear, their sparkling trails dazzle and thrill. Whispering in his tiny ear, their greeting slowly rises,


“Have a Heavenly Birthday, baby brother!”

God seems to have His hand in things this week. It starts with Lance asking me to chose the song this week for his 100 Word Song prompt. As I read his message, my Capt. had music playing downstairs and I heard  “Heavenly Day” by Patty Griffin. I promptly answered with this song as my choice.
When it came time to write, Happy Birthday wishes began to pour onto my nieces Facebook page for her sweet baby boy, who passed away in December. May 1 was his first birthday. My song choice became a God moment, inspiring me to write to, and for, my great-nephew Marcus. With permission from his mommy, I wove my words among the pictures they took at their celebration.
Happy Birthday Marcus!

May Angels Lead You In

Two weeks ago I began a journey of remember how important it is to appreciate those I love. 20 children were taken from their families in Newtown, Connecticut. Stealing the shared memories and love from the families and friends. I found myself knowing how necessary it is to love and appreciating my kids. To tell them and show them as often as possible.

Sunday, I was pulled soundly to the front and center of the road when a blow fell far closer to home. One of the metaphors for a loved one is to compare them to a bright shining light. When we lose a family member or friend we talk of the light flickering out or ceasing to shine. A very dark veil descended over my family last night when we received frantic, tragic phone calls inciting hurried trips to the hospital where our beautiful boy, my seven month old great-nephew tragically died.

Happy Marcus-edit

Marcus Daniel – May 1, 2012 – December 23, 2012

My big family has stayed, for the most part, right here in the same town and we are neither small nor quiet. A mass of people who belong to me and my siblings, our in-laws and their families converged in the hospital chapel to support and love my niece, her dear husband, and my sister and brother-in-law, grandparents to this beautiful boy, who left us far too soon. Our hearts and souls know he is in the loving embrace of Our God but our hearts and minds are broken with grief. Truly, an innocent, he had to fly instantly into the arms of the One who loves us most.

We have lost so much and the pain is deep, and enduring. Marcus was a first for so many of us. My parents first great-grandson, my sister and brother-in-law’s first grandson, my nieces and nephews first nephew, me and my siblings first great-nephew, my great-niece’s first sibling and brother, most importantly, my niece and her husbands first son. This first has been taken, and no one will fill the Marcus space. This special boy who was our first.


Other lights continue to shine and shower us with blessings and we must not neglect them, the seven little girls, less than five years old, who looked forward to Santa and had no idea what happened. It was our duty to step outside of our profound grief to make a wonderful, joyous Christmas for these girls who are still beacons in the darkness of our grief. We had to spin the dial and refocus so we could see the sunrise beyond the sunset.

As the days pass I realize Marcus’ light hasn’t burned out. Rather it has simply changed location. His light is shining from above. As I prayed, wept and begged God for comfort I found comfort in a vision of our loved ones who have passed. They were waiting for Marcus and the greeting was grand and joy filled. They were all giddy with anticipation as he came to them and they rejoiced with love and laughter as they received our special boy.

Christmas Day brought more sad news from my oldest son. His dog Smallz, who had been with him through hardship and happiness died. Another blow. Painful to lose a beloved pet, but my vision carried on with Smallz in all her diva glory running into Marcus’ baby arms and giving him a face full of puppy kisses.

Grammy and Gigi

My sister, Marcus’ Grammy, snuggling his big sis in grandbaby Christmas blankies she made.

This big, crazy, loud wonderful family is coping and recovering in ones.
One day,
one hour,
one minute,
one breath at a time.
Taking memories one at a time hold them for a moment in our hearts, memorizing an exact heartbeat, a certain expression and cherishing it’s familiarity.
We are encircling each other in loving embraces,
laughing through tears,
and crying through the pain.
It’s all moving us in the right direction where we will heal, but will never forget because there’s a mark tattooed on our hearts.

The mundane and boring are so appealing right now. I want something simple to brighten things. And truly? The simple is a blessing. I need to grab on and savor every boring moment. Hug my loved ones. Tell them I love them. I don’t want to spend a minute regretting what I could have done in any moment because every moment is a gift.


On a day when music was necessary to think beyond the grief, I put my iPod on Genius, chose a category and hit play. The first song that came on was Hear You Me (May Angels Lead You In) by Jimmy Eat World. Truly, it was a God moment and it has become my song for Marcus. Hit play a couple of times and let these lyrics and music sooth your soul. They have done so for me and the family since I shared it on my Facebook wall.


Marcus’ visitation is on Sunday December 30, 2012 from 5-7 p.m. with a vigil and rosary to follow. Funeral Mass will be on Monday Dec. 31, 2012 at 2:00 pm at St. Matthews Catholic Church.


I missed another Blog Birthday. Must come with my dread of counting my own.
Here is the post that began it all. A little piece I wrote about my sweet daughter Blossom.
Happy Belated Birthday to Day In and Day Out, er, me, well US!

Day In and Day Out

Blossom is playing basketball this year and it’s her first time playing sports. I watch her with pride and a lot of empathy for the apprehension she has of it being the first time. It’s another step away and yet a step ahead.

I watch her play without “watching” her. She runs up and down the court looking into the stands to see what my reaction is and to see if she needs some “advice”. Most of the time I try to watch her in the periphery of my sight. I can see her but she can’t see that I can see her. She seems to relax a bit when she doesn’t feel like I’m scrutinizing her and getting ready to tell her how to do something. I see her relax and dribble the ball with ease and  begin to watch what’s going on a little better.

It is her…

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A Story in A Day

Morning stumble straight for coffee. Thankful, someone else’s job.

A skillet. A sip. An egg. A sip. Breakfast served to the hungry child.

Trekking to dress and prepare. A swipe conceals exhaustion, a brush brightens the facade.

Happy squeals and patter of tiny feet, greetings from the grands showing off dresses, snacks toys.

More eggs. Sippies filled with milk.

More coffee. A drive. A farewell. Back home for play.

A day begins. A humdrum repeats, yet full of delight.

The routine. The normal. The expected.

Motivating, occasionally frustrating.

It’s the same story on a different day.


Linking up with Lance over at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog has his “buddy” LeeRoy handing out prompts with the 100 Word Song. This weeks inspiration came from Tracy Chapman’s “Telling Stories”. My creative juices ran slow this week, but it finally flowed and here it is. A day in the life of ME!


Mother earned the love drawn in the twinkle of her eyes and carved in the curve of her happiness. Her cherished brood is enveloped in a reverently woven mantle, fiercely protected and treasured.


I’m linking up with Trifecta for Trifextra: Week Sixteen. The challenge goes like this:

This weekend’s Trifextra is the first of its kind.  This weekend we only need 32 words from you, because we’re giving you the 33rd.  Your challenge is to write anything you want, in whichever form you please, so long as your response is exactly 33 words and includes the word “mother.”

Fearlessly Dreaming

My mothers heart, captivated by unique and priceless love.

Memories held of  soft, sweet baby hair.

The first born of my wild pack.

Fearlessly dreaming ; his imagination weaves, as fantasy and reality blur.

The sensitive soul is thinly veiled by a tongue in cheek toughness.

A bad ass? He smiles with twinkling eyes, shattering the facade.

A heart full of nobility and passion; unselfish and generous to cohorts and clan.

The devotion to wife and child leave me breathless with pride.

Tender yet constant; blunt yet thoughtful.

He is comfortable and familiar,

This boy.

This man.

My son, Brandon.


Inspired by Memories Captured from Galit Breen at These Little Waves and Allison of Mama Wants This  to create a photo tribute to my eldest, my son Brandon.

Your praise, criticism, corrections and/or suggestions are welcomed and appreciated. I can’t grow if I’m blind to the truth.