Monday, December 24, 2012

A Letter to Danny - December 24. 2012

It's Christmas Eve Honey.

The rest are sleeping as I sit here on my bed watching the snow fall down and knowing if you were here, you would be out on your Massey Fergeson tractor digging everyone out. 

As I sit here, I ponder how life led us to a little run-down house in Moose Creek, Alaska where I would lose you.  We certainly went on a jouney in our lives didn't we, Honey. 

I have been reading a book by George Anderson a medium/author who talks about what spirits have to say about earth life.  They say that "falling down" is an important part of living and it is the "falling down" that determines what we are really made of.  When we fall down, do we get back up and start again or do we stay down.  George Anderson says that when the world pulls the rug out from under your feet and you go down, it is because you were not on the right road in the first place; the road you were meant to travel. So life forces you to get back up and take another route.

I wish God would have just given us a GPS because oh my gosh we kept having the rug pulled out from under us, didn't we.  We'd get back up and dust ourselves off and start once again and take off with determination and optimism and "POW!" we'd go down once more.  Now, as I think back on it, I find it funny.  But by darn Honey, we kept getting up didn't we.  We didn't let things keep us down for long.

I guess there were lessons we needed to learn from financially losing everything we worked so hard for---twice.  But Honey, now that I look back on it, it wasn't so bad because we were allowed to keep intact those things that were truly important, truly of worth.  Our family circle stayed tightly knit.  We stuck together like we were bound with super glue.  And through it all, we kept our love.  Yes, we lost our houses (two of them) but we never once lost our homes.  My home was wherever it was that you were and your's was where I was.  What a gift we were given.

So as I sit here missing you this Christmas Eve, I want to thank you for the important gifts you gave me each and every Christmas.  Thank you for loving me, for being true to me.  Thank you for my children and my darling, thank you for my memories.

Merry Christmas Honey.

Far Beyond the 12th of Never.

Saturday, December 22, 2012

The Christmas Star

The Christmas Star
Copyright 1996-Susie Whiting

Once upon a time
so very long ago
there was a little star in heaven
that had just a little glow.

The other stars laughed at him
they said it wasn't right
that he was there in the heaven's sky
when he didn't give much light.

The little star grew so sad
he felt his heart would break in two
so he asked his God in heaven
"Please tell me what to do.

How can I shine more glorious?
How can I grow more light
so I can be important and
light up the heaven's night.

He heard his Father speak to him;
a kind and gentle voice above.
"The secret little star of mine
is to love and love and love."

"Oh God my Father tell me
is that all that I must do?
Then it will be real easy then
I'll just love all as I love you.

Heavenly Father smiled at him
"Don't worry little son
if you love all, as you love me
for you a glorious time will come.

Years and years came and passed
and the little star did love.
His little light grew and grew
he was the brightest star above.

Then one blessed evening
so very long ago,
the little star was chosen
to cast its wondrous glow

over a little town called Bethlehem
above a lowly stall
to proclaim the birth of Christ the Lord
the newborn King of All.

Friday, December 21, 2012

Christmas Peace

Christmas Peace
Copyright 1996 - Susie Whiting

In a little town in Europe
in 1942
Lay a world at war, no peace in store
There was no hope in view.

In a war-torn cottage she lived alone.
Death and grief lay all around.
Her home stood amid the rubble
of a devastated town.

Within her walls two soldiers sat.
Their guns lay by their side.
Nervously they waited.
They were the Allied side.

A table was set before them.
She'd share her meager meal.
It was Christmas Eve.  She knew Christ's love
and this would be His will.

A knock, a pound came at her door.
The two men jumped up in fear.
She raised her hand and bid them calm.
They would not find trouble here.

As she unlatched her door, two Nazi's stood,
stern but very young.
She bid them enter her humble home.
Would they please lay down their gun?

For it was Christmas Eve and for this night
Christ was commander here.
The world at war was left outside her door.
The four men met and felt no fear.

It was Christmas Eve as four young men
sat their differences aside.
They shared a meal blessed by God's will
and each felt peace that night.

They slept the four, upon her floor
and as the morn brought Christmas light,
shook hands and bid a sad farewell
they were friends not foe in fight.

"Twas Christmas Eve not so long ago
that the spirit of Christ reigned true.
God grand us all the peace that lived
in that cottage in '42.

A Letter to Danny - December 21, 2012

Hi Honey:

This morning is one of those times that I'm not coping very well.  Strange how that is.  I go through the motions of living, and then all of a sudden missing you is so strong I almost become immobile.  I woke this morning missing just feeling your arms around me.  How I would love to have you hold me.  It is one of those things I could never have realized I would miss so much...a hug.

When you held me, I wasn't alone in this world.  You and I could face anything...together.  I can't feel your arms around me now.  I close my eyes and I try to recapture those times.  At the door in the morning as you left to go to work and you would put your arms around me.  Sitting next to you on the couch watching TV and you would put your arm around me.  I can even hear you say to me "Come over here and hold me for a minute."  It was important to you too wasn't it Honey.  Your arms are gone now.  I can't walk into them and feel them enclose me as my cheek laid against your chest and the smell of your Old Spice created memories in my mind. 

I wish there was a way to recapture all the hugs; store them in a box and take one out everyday and wrap it around me like a warm blanket.  "If wishes were fishes we'd all have a fry." 

I miss you Honey.

I love you

Far Beyond the 12th of Never.

Thursday, December 20, 2012


Copyright 1996 - Susie Whiting

His name was Jakob, forever crippled he'd been,
the son of a widow who worked in the inn.
As darkenss crept in, the roof would his bed keep
and the heavens would hear as he fell off to sleep.

"If it be not much trouble, it would bring me much joy,
if you could just make me a normal boy."

"Jakob, awake!" He heard the voice say.
"Jakob arise! Go fluff up the hay
Jakob, awake!" He heard the voice call.
"Jakob away and prepare thee a stall."

He opened his eyes to find no one around.
He picked up his crutch and struggled to ground.

He heard beautiful music--soft in the air
and followed its song 'til a manger was there.
He did what was told by the voice in the night
and prepared he the manger 'til all was just right.

He heard someone coming.  He slipped out out away.
The man carried the woman and set her down in the hay.
and in only a while he heard the sweet lullaby
as she sang in response to her baby's first cry.

Then up in the heavens he heard angels sing
in praise of the birth of a Heavenly King.
Shepherds bore witness, wisemen adored
as they brought in fine gifts to give the new Lord.

Jakob gazed on and caught Mary's eye.
"Come closer my son.  You've no need to be shy.
Come close here beside me.  Would you like to see too?
Come see my baby.  He'd love to see you."

She drew back the blanket from the Babe's holy face.
Jakob leaned down and kissed the cheek 'neath the lace.

Jakob loved the wee babe as he loved not before.
He knew he'd never be able to love any more.
A tear found his eye and then fell to his cheek.
He whispered to Mary in a voice frail and weak.

"I own not a gift to give to your Child."
He continued to whisper in a tone meek and mild.
"I own not a thing, not even a toy.
All I own is a crutch of a not normal boy."

Then Mary replied "Your crutch will be fine.
Remember dear Jakob in our Father's own time,
All will rejoice and all will find joy
that they too were loved by a not normal boy."

Jakob laid his crutch down, kissed the Christ Child once more
and found himself normal as he ran t'ward the door.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Christmas Lyllaby

Christmas Lullaby
Copyright 1995 - Susie Whiting

The cold December wind blew
as she lay there in her bed.
A new born babe lay bundled
in a wood crate by her head.

A teardrop fell as she gazed
beyon her window sill
to a small white cross she'd placed with love
upon a windy hill.

With fevered brow, she closed her eyes
and the heavens heard her prayer;
that Jesus bless her baby
lying silent by her there.

She wasn’t asking for herself
but in His wisdom please
bless her newborn infant
upon this Christmas Eve.

Savior grant it not be time
for her to be called home,
for if it was her new born babe
would be cold and left alone.

She closed her eyes, she dreamed, she thought
of a lady dressed in white;
A white as pure as heaven
her face full of Heaven’s light.

She sang the babe a lullaby
In an angel’s voice it seemed.
It must just be the fever.
She slept.  ‘Twas just a dream.

Again she woke, again she saw
the lady dressed in white.
Peace filled her heart.  Again she slept
and as the morn brought Christmas light

Her fever gone, her newborn slept.
In his crate he lay so small.
She picked him up to find him wrapped
in the lady’s pure white shawl.

A note was pinned upon it.
She read and began to cry.
For on it were the words
of the lady’s lullaby.

“Hush-a-bye my baby
For on a Christmas morn
In a far-off town called Bethlehem
a wee small babe was born.

Hush a bye my child
in a manger in a stall
a newborn babe was born to man.
A child born to all.

I held his hand when he was born
Searched for him when he was lost
And cried out in a mother’s pain
when they nailed him to the cross.

Hush-a-bye my wee one
No harm will come to you.
My name is Mary of Nazareth
and I loved my baby too.”

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Christmas Watch

Christmas Watch 
Susie Whiting 
Copyright 2007 

Large snowflakes floated and danced creating a panorama of pristine white; a small breeze twirling them into small tornadoes spinning around the feet of holiday shoppers. Children, bundled warmly, laughed while sailing snowballs towards each other and occasionally towards an innocent passerby. 
On the corner, a Santa with a bucket rang his bell in time with the church chimes that pealed through the crystal night. While one offered sanctuary, the other asked for help, but both offered hope. 
A cardboard box served as a cover for a man holding a sign. “Homeless. Please Help.” The coffer before him sat empty. 
Cars passed by in a never ending parade sending slush upon the walk and occasionally upon the unsuspecting. The street lights sparkled green and red keeping with decorations in every window. 
The sounds of carols echoed through the night along with the giggles of the children sledding down the hill of the park. 
Had they not all been so busy, being wrapped up in lives of their own making, they might have noticed him. He sat against the building, snuggled close against the steps. His hat was pulled down as far as it could be pulled. His collar stretched up as high as it could stretch. His knees were pulled close to his chest and tucked under the worn coat that concealed his hands and arms. They were all so busy, but so was he. He watched as though an empty sponge, absorbing all that was going on around him. 
He watched as the limo pulled up to the curb. The chauffer opened the door as the couple slid from their seats. The gentleman adjusted his top hat and helped the lady to her feet. She lifted her gown to keep it from being soiled. He tucked her had around his arm as they past; as they past the Santa with his bucket and as they passed the homeless in his box. 
He watched as the family walked by, weighted down with brightly wrapped packages. They didn’t smile. A small son ran along beside them, crying out his list of what he expected Christmas to bring him and being pacified by his parents that he surely would receive all that he requested. And they passed by the Santa with his bucket, and the homeless with his coffer, and the child on the corner with worn shoes. And he watched. 
They were business men. And as they left their office, they talked of all the deals that needed closing. Christmas was such an inconvenience. There was work to be done and there wasn’t enough time. Neither was there enough time to notice the Santa on the Corner, or the homeless with his coffer, or the child with worn shoes, or the old woman without a shawl. 
Across the street, the small café was closing. She took off her apron and counted her tips. It had been a slow day. She would have to get more hours in next week if she were to make her rent. As she turned the sign from “Opened” to “Closed” she noticed them. The Santa on the Corner, the homeless in the box, the child with worn shoes, the old woman without a shawl, and the man sitting at the bottom of the steps in the ragged coat. 
The wind blew snowflakes into her eyes as she closed the café door behind her. Horns honked their disturbance as she crossed the slushy street. 
She dropped a portion of her tips into the bucket of the Santa. “I wish it could be more.” She whispered. 
To the homeless she handed a warm meal in a paper bag and thanked him as he said “God bless you.” 
She traded her shoes for the shoes of the child, amazed that they seemed to wear the same size. 
She wrapped her own sweater around the shoulders of the old woman. 
But when she approached the steps where the man and been sitting, she found only a coat lying in the snow. She picked it up, amazed at the warmth escaping it. 
As she reached her hand into the pocket she found her fingers clasped around a tiny wooden manger and a tiny wooden cross wrapped in a note that said: “For I was hungry and you gave me food; I was weary and you gave me rest; I was naked and you clothed me”. 
May we all celebrate this Christmas Season, each with the knowledge of who is watching. For it is through the seeing of others, that we find Christ. 

Sunday, December 16, 2012

The Christmas Search

The Christmas Search 
© 1997 Susie Whiting 

“Johnny show me Christmas.” 
He heard his little brother say. 
“Tonight is Christmas Eve 
and it’s just a night away.” 

“Christmas is just another day, 
Besides, you’re very ill. 
Just keep warm and get your strength 
And then next year I will.” 

“No. Johnny. Christmas just can’t wait. 
Let’s go find it now. 
If you just help me a little bit 
I know I can make it somehow.” 

Johnny looked at the box car 
That he and his brother both called home. 
It was all two orphaned boys could have 
And not even theirs’ to own. 

His brother was seeking Christmas. 
Where on earth could it possibly be? 
But this might be his one last wish, 
so he would take him out to see. 

“Come get on my back,” Johnny said. 
“if that’s what you want to do. 
I’ll carry you out to find Christmas 
If it’s that important to you.” 

The mansion sat high on Manor Hill, 
You could hear the music play. 
The guests arrived in fine attire, 
pulled by a horse drawn sleigh. 

The smell of roast goose and dressing 
sailed in the Christmas air. 
If they could ever find Christmas, 
surely they’d find it there. 

His brother didn’t feel heavy, 
as he broke a path in the new fallen snow. 
He could see the tree in the window. 
They hadn’t much farther to go. 

Johnny lifted his brother down gently. 
He laid his coat on the snow on the ground. 
“Sit here and peak through the window. 
Be careful and don’t make a sound.” 

Mistletoe hung from each doorway. 
Garland was laced down each stair. 
The treetop reached clear to the ceiling. 
The very grandest were there. 

“Oh Johnny I’m glad we found Christmas. 
It’s everything I thought it would be. 
I’ve often wondered what Christmas is like. 
Thank you for showing me.” 

“What are you two doing here?” 
The voice behind them said. 
“I don’t recall inviting you. 
Why aren’t you home I bed?” 

“Oh please, don’t be mad at Johnny. 
It’s all my fault you see. 
I asked him to help me find Christmas. 
He brought me here to show me.” 

“What’s wrong with you my child? 
You don’t look well at all. 
Johnny, help me up with your brother. 
Let’s carry him into the hall.” 

As they lifted him up, his fevered brow 
brushed against the gentleman’s head. 
He carried him up the staircase and 
laid him down in a down-filled bed. 

“Johnny go fetch the doctor. 
Right by his bed I will stay. 
Tell him to hurry as fast as he can. 
Don’t worry about the pay. 

Your brother’s going to be better. 
You’re so good to him, and kind. 
If it’s Christmas that he’s looking for, 
Then it’s Christmas he will find.” 

The years they came and years they past 
The two boys in the mansion stayed, 
blessed by the spirit of Christmas 
They found on that special day. 

Yes, Johnny and his brother found Christmas 
and never from them did it part. 
So if you happen to be searching for Christmas, 
make sure to look in the heart. 

Saturday, December 15, 2012

The Gift

The Gift
Copyright 1990 Susie Whiting

The cold December wind blew
As she tucked them in their bed;
The three small ones at the bottom,
the two larger at the head.

She wished them all sweet dreams
and made sure they all had prayed,
and told them to sleep quickly
for the morn brought Christmas day.

As the ice hung outside the windows
the old stove she filled with slack
that she had gathered up the night before
along the railroad track.

She opened up the damper
and let down the oven door.
She pulled close her old rocker
as she's done so oft before.

From a box she brought the treasures
of days that used to be;
the suit of tweed that he wore
and her gown of organdy.

She clutched them oh so tightly.
She could almost hear him say
the loving words he spoke to her
upon their wedding day.

She laid a kiss so gently
upon the coat of tweed.
It now would be the jackets
that her boys were so in need.

She picked the seams of organdy
to make a smaller dress.
A teardrop found its way down her cheek
and fell upon her breast.

The lantern flickered softly
as the night grew dark and calm.
Her fingers must work quickly
before the coming dawn.

For as the dawn brought Christmas morning
for her wee ones all there'd be
were two jackets made of tweed
and three gowns of organdy.

Her eyes grew weak and weary-
if only she could rest.
Again a teardrop found its way
to the same spot upon her breast.

Why was the old dog whining
beside the kitchen door?
He had always barked and tugged her dress
when he had wanted out before.

The cold wind danced the snow flakes
across the kitchen floor
as she drew her shawl and raised the latch
and opened up the door.

What was that sitting on the porch?
There were no tracks upon the snow.
A box draped in gold and tied in blue,
adorned with a silver bow.

She brought close her old lantern
and untied the silver bow
to find within the treasures
from where they came she didn't know.

She found within its open arms
two small coats of matching tweed
and a small white box lay hidden
beneath three gowns of organdy.

In it a tiny teardrop necklace
sparkled on a string of gold.
Her trembling hands raised it up
for her small white neck to hold.

And as she hooked the clasp,
the small pearl fell to rest
upon the very teardrop
that had fallen on her breast.

Friday, December 14, 2012

The Christmas Donkey

The Christmas Donkey
Copyright 1996 Susie Whiting

He was just a little donkey, standing humbly in his stall,
Not feeling very special. He felt important not at all. .
“Look at us,” came voices, from two grand stallions in the street.
They had manes of braided gold and shoes of silver on their feet.

Each wore a regal headdress made with feathers, crimson red.
“We’re the carriers of his Majesty,” the closest stallion said.
It’s too bad you’re just a donkey. Don’t you wish that you could be
A stallion as grand as we are, and carry his Majesty?

“You’ve been blessed,” the little donkey said, “To be a horse so fine.
Thank you for stopping to talk to me. Thank you for taking time.”

The two grand stallions galloped off. Their manes floated in the breeze.
The little donkey lay in the hay, content to be just he.
He closed his eyes as dark grew nigh. Peace filled up his soul.
He thought of the Majesty’s stallions, with manes braided up with gold.

Although it was dark he awakened, surrounded by a glorious light.
He heard a voice sweet as a song speak to him in the night.
“Arise little donkey. How humble you are. God has seen you here.
He’s chosen you to be the one. Come and feel no fear.

A Virgin named Mary is great with child and has many miles to go.
Come little donkey and loan her your back. Be careful with her. Go slow.
Carry her gently to Bethlehem. You’ve been chosen by God above.
Because you’re so gentle, because you are kind, because you are humble and love.

Rise up little donkey. Humble servant of God, your goodness will hear angels sing.
For you’ve been chosen to be the one. You shall carry the King.”

The little donkey did as he was told. He felt blessed to be chosen the one
to carry the Virgin to Bethlehem, and to witness the birth of her son.
While in his stall in Bethlehem, the stallions galloped up by his side.
“Why, if it isn’t the donkey of Nazareth,” they both said with haughty pride.

“What brings you here to Bethlehem?” Then in voices they seemed to sing.
“We carry the servants of Caesar doing the work of the king.”
“I” said the humble donkey, in a voice that the stallions awed,
“have witnessed the birth of Christ the Lord. I’ve carried the son of God.”

Thursday, December 13, 2012

A Letter to Danny - December 13, 2012

Good Morning Honey:

I went to Jack and Tanner's basketball games last night at the high school.  I was looking at the seniors there and thought how they look so very young.  I remembered being their age and that I felt old at the time.  I thought I knew exactly what I wanted and where I was going in life.  I had no doubts back then.  I looked at the young girls and the realization that when I was their age, I was engaged to marry you, hit me.  I was so young...perhaps too young.  Perhaps had I been older, we would not have had some of the problems we had.  20/20 hindsight is so clear. 

But then when I woke up this morning I thought to myself, I'm glad I didn't know what we were heading into.  Had I known or had you known, perhaps we wouldn't have danced the dance; and to me, that would have been so horribly wrong. 

Rather I was so young or not, my love, I know I was meant to be with you.  There is no question in my mind or heart at all about that. 

Remember the large Christmas candle you painted on the picture window of our Provo house.  It was about 45 years ago and I remember it so clearly.  You impressed me with your talent.  Remember our putting lights on our big old shrubs in the front of our house and then on Charlie too.  (You even had names for the shrubs.)  I thought they were so beautiful shining through the snow. 

I love my memories of Christmas with you.  The front room of our little Provo house would be filled with Christmas presents for our kids.  Each one had their own "group" of gifts when they woke on Christmas morning.  (But they could only get out of bed once the street lights had turned off.)  The year we gave them all skis was incredible.  Those skis would end up building such wonderful memories for them to share as a family.  I would haul them all over to North Park in Provo where they would catch the bus to Sundance for ski lessons.  They remember hiding their tuna sandwiches in the snow and recalling how wonderful they tasted when lunch time came.  Then, they would all come home; cold and wonderfully tired.  They would gather blankets and pillows and lay on the heat ducts and fall asleep or watch television.  We had wall to wall children.  Didn't we?  Thinking back makes me happy.

Those days are gone now Honey.  Oh, they still live.  They live in my memory and in the memories of our children and I'm certain wherever it is you're at, you remember them too.  But those times have been replaced now; replaced with our children building their own memories with their children.  I'm just glad there's room enough for memories of past and present. 

Well my love, I will get busy (cause it will make me feel better).  I'm going to go to visit our Idaho children this weekend and build a few more memories.  I love you Honey and miss you more than you could imagine.  Do me a favor when you read this.  Burst into song singing "A star, A star!!!"  That's the only part you could remember of the song "Do You Hear What I Hear."  Sheree will recall that one.

I love you Honey.

Far Beyond the 12th of Never.


Sunday, December 9, 2012

A Letter to Danny - December 9, 2012

Hi Honey:

I got in my car yesterday as I headed off to visit Jeri.  I turned on the radio to Elvis Presley singing "I'll Have a Blue Christmas Without You" and it reminded me of you doing your Elvis impersonation to the same song. 

It hurt for a while.  How I missed the silly little things you use to do.  I went in to visit Jeri and when I came back out and turned on the radio, it was Elvis again singing "I'll Have a Blue Christmas Without You" again.  Once more I heard your voice in my head but this time it made me smile.  It was so like you to be obnoxious sometimes. 

How many times during our "Survivor" parties over the past many years did we hear you yell "Come on In Everybody" (Your impersonation of Jeff Probst) or hear you sing "OH!  He danced with the girl with the hole in her stockin's and her knees kept a knockin and she never quit talkin.".  Then there were the numerous songs you made up....but only one verse that you would sing over and over even when you heard us groan. (He's a Rodeo dog, he's a kibble dog.  He's a Rodeo dog he's a kibble frog). 

Honey, I can honestly say, I never thought there would come a time when I would miss hearing those songs...but I do. 

But then, I miss so many of your little idiosyncracies.  I miss how you use to tug your levis up when they slipped down a little.  I miss how you buttoned your shirts wrong.  I miss your not liking the bottom of the blankets tucked in and your little glasses perched on the end of your nose when you read.  I miss finding screws and washers in the pockets of your pants when I went to wash them and the Copenhagen you carried in your shirt pocket.  Yes Honey, I even miss your spit bottles and that should give you some idea on how much I miss you. 

I hope that wherever you are, you are missing the way I always needed to be covered up when I slept even if it's in the summer time.  How I always had to have my stash of Hersey's.  How I would fix a midnight snack of a bologna sandwich with tomatoes, and needed to have my tweezers to pluck my eyebrows.  I hope you miss waking up to find I'd slipped out of bed and was in our office writing in the middle of the night and you would come to find me and say "Whatsa goin' on?"  How I had a hard time tying a slip knot or tying the hook on my line.  I hope you miss my potatoes and onions and my bringing you your cup of coffee in the morning. 

I wish I could say that I hope you are completely happy where you are...I wish I could but I can't.  I want you to be a little miserable like I am.  After all, it was you who kept saying "Misery loves company." 

I do want you to be happy though, just like I know you want me to be.  I'll find a way Honey.  I have to for our children and grandchildren. But I won't be completely happy.  How can I be when part of my heart has been torn out.

I love you Darling.

Far Beyond the 12th of Never.


Thursday, December 6, 2012

All I Should Have Been

All I Should Have Been
Copyright 2012 -Susie Whiting

I'll never scale a mountain
swim to the bottom of the sea.
Fly faster than the speed of sound
No, it won't be done by me.

I'll never build a pyramid
or design a Taj Mahal.
I'll never work the stage of Broadway
I'll never take a curtain call.

I might not be all I could have been
but I'll be all I should have been
with you here in my arms.

I'll be the one who loves you.
Be a candle in your night.
The soft place you can fall
When the world's not going right.

The shoulder you can cry on.
and then the one to make you smile.
The one who'll be beside you
when you went the extra mile.

I might not be all I could have been
but I'll be all I should have been
with you here in my arms.

I'll never run for President
or win the prize for peace.
Make a trans-Atlantic solo flight
or sale the seven seas.

I might never pen a novel
or write a symphony.
When I take my dying breath
I'll still be all that I should be.

I've been the one who loves you.
I've been the candle in your night.
The soft place you could fall
when life wasn't going right.

I was the shoulder you could cry on
then the one to make you smile
I was the one who walked beside you
when you went the extra mile

I might not be all I could have been
but I've been all I should have been
with you here in my arms.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

A Letter to Danny - December 4, 2012

Good Morning Honey:

Last night I sat in the middle of my bed with our "love letters" strewn around me; letters written when you were the Army.  I read each one of yours and then kissed it before I laid it down.  Each one of mine written to you had printed on the back of the envelope WWAPSWAKGBTOWOT which you and I knew meant:  Written With A Pen.  Sealed With A Kiss.  God Bless The One Who Opens This.

My hand writing then was that of a seventeen year old girl, not that of the woman I am today.  I evolved in so many ways by being your wife.  My handwriting, like myself, became better by being with you.

This morning I sit in the middle of my bed writing once again to you.  We have gone full circle, Honey.  You are gone and I am loving and missing you hanging onto you with letters.

The structure of my letters now, are not much different from what they were then.  There would be a tidbit of information surrounded mostly by "I Love You So Much" and "I Miss You So Bad" as there are in these letters.  It was true then as it is now.

I'm even listening to Johnny Mathis singing Christmas carols this morning.  Of course, today I listen through the miracle of technology.  I downloaded his album into Itunes instead of putting the big round 33 1/3 record we use to have onto the record player. 

This time my love, I do not wait for you to come home to me.  No matter how often I look out the window, I will not see the headlights of your truck pulling into my driveway.  This time my love, you need to wait for me.  I hope my letters to you can span the dimensions that separate us.  (Miles were so much easier than dimensions.)  I hope you can read them and know, that like 48 years ago, you have a girl who loves you with all her heart, holding on until she can be with you again. 

If this letter were printed, you would find on the back WWAPSWAKGBTOWOT and you would see that it was kissed.

I love you my Darling and I will

Longer than the 12th of Never.


Sunday, December 2, 2012

A Letter to Danny - December 2, 2012

Hi Honey:

Christmas lights are all aglow and trees are decorated.  Christmas Carols are on the radio.  Once more, Christmas has come without you.

It's the second since you left.  I hardly remember last year. Your loss was so new and the pain was so intense.  It's a little better this year since I've already experienced an anniversary of all things Christmas without you.  I have to realize Honey that nothing will ever be the same again.  Everything in my life is different and I need to learn to live with it, and accept it.

Our home was the "hub" for so many years.  It was where our children and grandchildren came to celebrate the season.  The celebration started long before Christmas Eve. It would start on December 3rd (Daren's birthday) when we would start putting up Christmas lights.  Then there would be three Christmas trees in our front room, one in our family room, and one in the garage (aka recreation room). The girls and I would get together and make fudge and caramel apples while listening to A Roger Whitaker's Christmas. 

Remember many years ago when our grandchildren were young, I thought perhaps our children would like to start their own Christmas Eve traditions and not feel forced in coming to our house.  So on December 22, we had our family Christmas Party at the Payson City Center.  We had turkey and dressing and all the trimmings.  Santa came with gifts for all the kids.  It was a wonderful party.

Then Christmas Eve came.  You and I were home, alone, when Daren called.  "What are you and Dad doing tonight?" He asked. 

"We're just going to be home," I replied.

"Well.  Maybe Andie and I will bring the boys over."

"We'd love to have you." I answered and we disconnected just in time for the phone to ring again.  It was Mark.

"What are you doing?"  He asked.

"Not much." I replied.  "Daren just called and said he and Andie were going to bring the boys over later."

"Well, maybe Dawna and I and the kids will come over."  He said.

"That will be good." I answered once more.  "I will have some dinner ready if you're hungry."

The next call was from Rainee.  "What are you and Dad doing tonight?" She asked.

"Well.  We were just going to be home.  Daren and Mark said they were coming over with the kids.  I was planning on fixing dinner." 

"Well maybe Shane and I will come over too."  She said.

"That will be wonderful." I replied.  "Why don't you call your sisters and let them know we're having our Christmas Eve party." 

We ended up having two Christmas parties that year.  One on the twenty-second of December and one on Christmas Eve. 

I don't have a house now Honey.  Oh.  I have a home.  Actually, I have seven of them (eight counting my sister Lola's.)  However, I have to relinquish being the hub.  I need to hand that down to my children.  They now carry the torch of traditions, and I will share in theirs and I pray that when they have watched many Christmas' come and go, they will look back and have the warm, fond memories that I have.

As for me, Honey.  I need to find myself another tradition.  I need to find something else that will take the place of the old while I'm waiting to meet you wherever it is you're at.  I'm not certain what that will be right now.  It might take my searching a little to find it.  "If you happen to be searching for Christmas, don't forget to look in the heart."  Those are my words, and I need to follow them. 

If you, perchance, are able to see the road that I should be traveling, let me know what exit I need to take in my new search.  Help me find it.

I love you Honey.  You are always on my mind and in my heart.

Far Beyond the 12th of Never.