Purest Love

Not such a great photo because it was taken through the glass door…but it’s a baby dove and parent. The baby is about six days old. For me, the best of life is this, witnessing the purest love.

Advertisement

May we raise children who love the unloved things

May we raise children
who love the unloved
things–the dandelion, the
worms and spiderlings.
Children who sense
the rose needs the thorn

& run into rainswept days
the same way they
turn towards sun…

And when they’re grown &
someone has to speak for those
who have no voice

may they draw upon that
wilder bond, those days of
tending tender things

and be the ones

~~ Nicolette Sowder ~~

Epitaph

When I die
Give what’s left of me away
To children
And old men that wait to die.

And if you need to cry,
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you.
And when you need me,
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give them
What you need to give to me.

I want to leave you something,
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.

Look for me
In the people I’ve known
Or loved,
And if you cannot give me away,
At least let me live on in your eyes
And not your mind.

You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands,
By letting bodies touch bodies,
And by letting go
Of children
That need to be free.

Love doesn’t die,
People do.
So, when all that’s left of me
Is love,

Give me away.

~~ Merrit Malloy ~~

JJ & Cherie

Love them and win their love…

While they are at your side, love these little ones to the uttermost. Forget yourself. Serve them; care for them; lavish all your tenderness on them. Value your good fortune while it is with you, and let nothing of their babyhood go unprized.

Not for long will you keep the happiness that now lies within your reach. You will not always walk in the sunshine with a little warm, soft hand nestling in each of yours, nor hear little pattering feet beside you, and eager baby voices questioning and prattling of a thousand things with ceaseless excitement.

Not always will you see that trusting face upturned to yours, feel those little arms about your neck, and those tender lips pressed upon your cheek, nor will you have that tiny form to kneel beside you, and murmur baby prayers in your ear.

Love them and win their love, and shower on them all the treasures of your heart. Fill up their days with happiness, and share with them their mirth and innocent delights.

Childhood is but for a day. Ere you are aware it will be gone with all its gifts forever.

~~ George Townshend ~~

Thanks to Sharon at https://aleafinspringtime.wordpress.com/ for finding these words and sharing them.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Exhale…

“Exhale only love.” ~ Rumi

I like this photo because…

…first of all, these are the two most special girls in my life, my daughter, Janie, and my granddaughter, Katie.  It was Janie’s 26th birthday a few days ago and just as I was snapping this photo, Katie decided to give her mom a kiss.  What happened with the photo turned out to be one of life’s “melt your heart” moments for me.  Sometimes…I get lucky with a photograph.  I love these two.  🙂

“Your mother is…

“Your mother is always with you…
She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street,
She’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not well.
Your mother lives inside your laughter,
And she’s crystallized in every tear drop.
She’s the place you came from, your first home,
And she’s the map you follow with every step you take.
She’s your first love and your first heartache,
And nothing on earth can separate you,
No amount of time…and no amount of distance.”

~ Author Unknown

Lovely Katie, my granddaughter…six-year-old sweetness. :-)

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

~~ Pablo Neruda ~~