Reflections From the Heart

April 6, 2013 · 12:15 PM

For Keeps

Today is our anniversary.

Nineteen years ago, I said “I do” to the most loving and gentle man I know.

And I’m so glad I did.

He came into my world when I was a desperate, single mother of four: ages nine, eleven, twelve, and fourteen. He not only loved me then, but he loved and embraced my children. And they loved him back.

Today, as I fixate on my husband’s face—his eyes weathered by deep trenches of experience, his hair and beard more gray than brown—a sense of contentment warms me. His gaze still carries the familiar twinkle. They speak of tenderness, honesty, and devotion. His eyes say I am a star in his galaxy, and that he will remain by my side through thick and thin. They confirm that together we are one. Moreover, those eyes proclaim that with God, we can weather any storm.

I hadn’t always known this gentleness and steadfastness in a mate. But this one was my second chance at love and happiness, assuring me that my mate and true friend accepts me unconditionally and without reservation. He loves me on my worst days. He loves me on my best days. I don’t feel alone if he’s away.

Yes, we have faced scores of satisfactions and disappointments, victories and losses, accomplishments and failures, heartaches and joys. Some we understand. Some we don’t. But God gives us grace and peace that exceeds our comprehension.

And life moves on.

“He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love is hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.”
~ Bob Marley

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Filed under Personal, Wedding Anniversary

Tagged as "I do", anniversary, Blended Family, Bob Marley, Family, marriage, new beginnings, second chances, single parenting, stedfastness

April 3, 2013 · 2:52 PM

Time

“I always did love you, just had too many problems.”
Ten words on ink and paper.
Written by her.
Pierces my heart.
Quiet pain.

Does she know I exist? Or care? Or want me?
I love her, look up to her; want to be her.
Unspoken. Forsaken.
Isn’t love also a verb?
Hidden shame.

Grandparents notice. Embrace me. Love me.
They say I am worthy and special.
I am not allowed to stay with them.
She said I might become spoiled.
Wounded heart.

I leave home. Searching for Mr. Right.
Embraced him at sixteen. Happily ever after.
Young. Naïve. Taken for granted.
Thinks to mold me into his image.
His way or the highway.
Internal screams.

Motherhood. Baby having babies.
Crawl before walking. Stumble. Fall.
Clinging unto a strand, unraveling.
Faded dreams.

Years overlap. Encumbering.
Emotions are numb.
Hubby seeks greener pastures.
Two-timer. Tosses me to the wolves.
Abandon.

Water is not missed until the well is dry.
Alone. They’ve aged. Reaching out.
Across the miles, they call my name.
Vowing eternal devotion.
Hollow words.

Grown children look back.
Open arms. Nostalgic.
Rebuild the fences.
Dying to live.
Forgive.

In times of happiness, embrace your beloved.
In times of calamity, hold them closer.
Love isn’t love until you give it away.
God grants life.
And second chances.

Me, at three months old, with Mama

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Filed under Life, poetry, relationship, Social, Time

Tagged as depression, forgiveness, Forsaken, love lost, Mother, naive, nostalgic, Poetry, Relationships, time

March 28, 2013 · 12:54 PM

To Quit or Not to Quit

Meltdown. Is what I’m having. You know what I hate besides fear? Weakness. And that’s how I feel. Weak. I just completed my third spinning class, and I feel like crying. Instead of stronger, I’m feeling weaker. While my mind is screaming the entire time, “quit,” I am hurting in an area where it’s downright embarrassing to divulge to a male instructor. And so, I spin on. Fifty minutes is a long time.

My son texted me to give it time. “Just stay consistent,” he says. Don’t quit. In three to four weeks, you’ll start to challenge yourself. Right now, your body is challenging you.”

I sure wish I had done this twenty years ago. Now at fifty-something, I feel foolish trying to keep up with the more youthful and experienced crowd. While I did not quit, I could not keep up. I felt deflated driving home. But then again, no pain, no gain, right?

Cycling classes. I hope to start seeing results instead of feeling as if I’m merely spinning my wheels, if you know what I mean.