More than

Christmas bells, stockings, and food will ultimately lead to a headache, the laundry, and an antacid that everyone should have in their stockings hung by the fireplace with care.

Lights are mesmerizing at night blasting their profusion of colors like the Griswold family home, but in the daytime all the innerworkings of strings and such are shown.

Our heart can also hold the same ugly side or a beautiful gala of color, maybe my analogy is a little off but I suppose I can suffice it to say, Christmas is what you make of it, and gifts aren't our ultimate, Christ is, for some or should be because He is the reason for the season, He is our ultimate gift and no necktie or cruise or diamond earring will ever compare to the sparkle that He held at birth or when he left this earth after he rose again on the third day.

Christmas should be extended in it's full giving meaning to the wealthy as well as to the family in the homeless shelter or our neighbor next door.

So with that said let me extend to all that read this

Merry Christmas

to you and yours

and an added

Happy New Year!

Crash

Just wanted you all to know my computer has crashed ....again....and I'm bulldogged determined to get the danged thing fixed....again...so please do give up on me at least to the few that do stop by and ready my ranglings...

A Moment

When did he come in to the house and gather me into his arms to swing me around. When did he talk in my ear breathing reckless breaths that drove me wild and as we stood there both hoping to be whisked off to even the floor beneath us, we looked down and there were little arms and little legs holding us in their little grasp. It was reality, it wasn't a moment lost it was a moment yearningly saved, it was a moment we took to show each other how much we cared...

..giggles erupted from the miniature DNA versions of our generations and we took to the nearest chairs to tickle and hug and hope for another moment where expression would be free to flow across the canvas in our lives.

Changing Times

Jilly had just finished her three bedroom home, she leaned the rake against the fence to admire her handiwork. It should stay this way unless a big wind blew in, she thought, then out of the corner of her eye she caught a bigger wind, Billy Randall, the kid who lived a few doors down. He was notorious for making others walk on the other side of the street. That was a euphemism for "he was a meanie."

Little did she know Billies parents weren't at all like the warm and caring ones she had, Oh they looked okay on the outside but literally and figuratively on the inside they were a classic case of bigger meanies. In truth they should have done themselves and especially Billy a favor and made like a big banana and split. Oh phooey, she tried not to look to draw attention her way but she needed to go inside,a three bedroom split level took time to put together and she was thirsty, particles of maple leaves seemed to line her throat. Now she had to wait otherwise she'd have to call her friend Molly and tell her to forget hanging out in the yard. Molly would've been here earlier to help but she had to get her hair cut.

Why did they have to do that, why did they have to yell, didn't they know, wait, of course they didn't have a clue they didn't care either or they'd stop yelling. He leaned against a tree, know one was looking he hoped, he couldn't take it any longer, he stood there crying and dying inside.

Jilly had glanced to see if Billy was on his way, hard to tell what'll happen but when she saw him leaning against the big oak tree, he was hitting it with his hand, man that shoulda really hurt. She squinted her eyes and noticed, was he crying, naw couldn't be, he was a meanie. Oh but wait, she'd heard her mom say while she was talking on the phone that his parents fought a lot. Oh man, that's sad. She quickly looked away and went to the back door, Mom? Mom?

Mom? She gazed into her moms eyes for a moment quickly taking in her hair, she had green eyes, and her smell today well she smelled like butter and vanilla, she'd been baking.

What Jilly, close the door dear.

Jilly stepped inside but only for a moment, she still faced outward to keep an eye on her house and Billy. Mom, do you remember Billy?

Her mom said yes, Billy Randall, you're talking about?

Yes Mom. I think he's crying over by the oak tree.

Oh that's all it took, she went in mom overdrive, she glanced back checking the stove, she still had time she grabbed her sweater and out she went.

Carefully at first, like a bird she knew would fly away if she approached too fast, she gradually took her time, glancing.

She stood for a moment admiring, not like she usually would but still admiring Jilly's newly formed leaf house, reminiscent of the ones she used to build when she was a girl.

Billy's nose had been running down his face, he couldn't help it once the dam broke there was nothing he could do, he didn't have a handkerchief, but he did do what any other boy would do, he used his shirt sleeve. His eyes were overflowing with tears, and when he looked up he noticed that nice lady approached him with a few Kleenex's, oops she was too late, Billy, Billy she said, why are you crying? Billy forgot he was a designated meanie, he forgot he was standing on his street, he forgot others maybe were looking and when he heard those terms of endearment flow. Billy, how would you like some hot chocolate with marshmallows, and I'm making some cupcakes.

Billy looked at her with confusion, why was she standing here, didn't she notice all the snot and that he lost his status as a bully?

Billy?

He snarfled a reply, yeah?

I notice you as I was looking around for some walnuts on the ground for my cakes, that's why I still have on my apron, your eyes looked a little watery and I thought maybe you'd like to use these Kleenex's I just happened to have in my pocket.

Well, that was a close call! he thought. He took the Kleenex's and wiped his sleeve with them, Jilly's mom was a little confused by this gesture but then the light went off and she proceeded to re invite him to have cocoa. I was wondering she said if everything is okay?

He looked up at her with tear drenched eyelashes, a bulbous nose that would make any clown proud and a gaze that would've melted butter.

She knew the answer to this it didn't need to be said with words. She held out her hand and he graciously made his way to the kitchen of Jilly's mom.

Jilly stood watching as if this was her favorite channel on TV, she flew inside and phoned her friend telling her to come tomorrow instead, she didn't have to be told she knew in her heart that this time the steady flow down the sidewalk would never be interrupted again by Billy.

In the kitchen they sat drinking hot chocolate and marshmallows together smelling vanilla and butter talking of leaf houses and football. They learned something that day, a house is a home no matter where it is and what it is made of, and it's what inside that counts.

And actually there were other things learned from that day forward but too numerous to mention as the crumbs fall to the floor and the leaves swirl across the ground.

all these posts were written by me by barbara lambert

A Moment

I found myself running like mad through the neighbors pasture land and how I got to this place I have no idea.

I had went to bed like usual the night before, or this morning, heck I- I don't know. Time, my cell phone is on the nightstand and I don't use a watch any longer at least or not since I got my cell, gee must be a bummer for Timex... this is silly, I'm running around in the pasture in my bare feet, how did I not step in patties of the bovine kind and I'm worried about Timex...my head is spinning and I'm worried about a watch company..

I need to get home! Fortunately, the moon is high above and it's not quite but darn close, a fingernail shy, of full so after I got my barings as to which direction my farm house was, I made my way over hill and across dale, being careful, ouch! it was thistle season, I seemed to have found most of them.

If I had been drinking like a fool ..maybe I'm not really awake. I pinched myself to make sure, and it hurt, the thistles alone should have told me so, but then I wondered if I was slipped a mickey, I remembered what I was doing the night before, I had been sitting with my cat Fido, unless Fido was ticked about his Kibbles....... no mickey given last night. I held my head in my hands and pondered as I walked.............

Was this a time warp, maybe I was dejaveauxed into the future and ...oh ridiciculous, nothing was making sense, I had come to the road and had one more bend before I saw the massive tree with the swing out front near the rasberry bushes almost to the right of it.

I had had many many great days swinging my little feet off while popping rasberries in my mouth. Both were such a comfort, at least there was comfort in recognizing something familiar.

I stood in the yard gazing at the familiarity and weaving from sheer fright and exhaustion and then....I looked up ...........

She (the girl in the field) , was ficitional . A made up story, I suppose the reality came from the woman typing, she's doing it now, she's looking down, watching every word and creating a moment, wrestling, figuring out an ending and wanting a taste of the rasberries and to swing on the very tall tree on the farm that she used to visit as a child. She wants to comfort the girl gazing trying to figure out all this silliness and she's also grateful she's not smelling the bit of manure she managed to step in on the way home.

No there was no wandering that night only a creation of a fictional moment. If you look up-up above where you think you see the stars...well it's actually the light of the computer.

Mind yourself now, it's time to take the thistles out and also...........Good Night!

Contained within me is a yearning, suppressed, with each autumn, it has left a scar, a piece of my heart, ransacked if you will, as each leaf turns and falls.

Yearnings of all kinds, some within reach, some not, so in this lifetime I'm trying to reach the ones that I can see, the doable ones.

I once relaxed in a well worn chair outside the half century old hedge bulging with the sights and sounds it must've seen. Generations raised from the ground up, happy times, exhaustive times and times of great sadness. There were mulberry trees producing more than sustenance, weeping willows sharing a covered perch for a child in the hide n seek mode. In thought I brush away a large fly aimlessly buzzing around my head as I sat and wondered at the time what would it be like to share with my children all the good that was supplied by living in a small town and being able to take part in the country life at my grandparents.

When the time came to share with them and teach them the simpleness of life, well, let me suffice it to say they were at an age when I was a fool in their eyes and only what they wanted to see and hear could make their desires rise up, nothing I said or did anymore made a difference. Heaven help me to withhold how I really feel, I once prayed for this piece of me, but not any longer, it seemed unimportant after awhile, now time is passing too quickly, my paper is almost due ready to turn in before my own deadline.

I quit trying at one time to reach my hearts desire, life was too complicated, goals seemed unreachable, until the small burning ember went pfft stirred thanks to a caring soul unafraid to tell it like it is approached me one day and laid it all on the line.

Gratefulness is running a race right next to time, and that nasty ole' suppression has taken a back seat, very soon to be pushed out the door in lieu of my hearts wishes.

I have shared desires seat now the glow is a beacon leading down a trail to home, so many people are gone and the land has been passed on to others, even the flies don't belong.

Can you go home again? Can you really I keep asking myself and the answer surfaces like the funny old eight ball I played with as a child. Yes, only if your memories and hearts desires don't interfere with the new ones you create.

It doesn't matter really where you're sharing that story, only that someone out there is yearning for a memory like the one you need to tell.

Very soon the pull will begin as sure as the tide wrestles with the moon. Nothing deep and philosophical just a fact.

Move on over Summer, Autumn is about to begin. A family of leaves are rustling in the wind of my favorite tree ready for a change. My chair is revved for the turn of events, the stage is set for a cool day near the great hedge creating new stories future memories.


Suppression is now a thing of the past, the ember is a flame, the desire is greater than before as the last leaf falls. ....to be cont'd...

God help me --Really

Oh my gosh, I'm sitting in church hardly able to breathe because my bra is cutting off my circulation and I'm in the middle of trying not to have an anxiety attack. What's happening to me? Ack! God help me really!

I have to sit for a period of time, well I'd like to listen to the message, if I try and walk out now I might pass out during the service, although either way I still might. I'll wait till he prays, it'll make a difference, most of the people you're passing usually stare at you, so this way half the people will. Most will try to keep their eyes closed during prayer but some need to have their sights in both worlds. Otherwise, that'd mean another full blown anxiety attack.

Dang, if this were happening to my friend she would have had her bra whipped off in no time even without the people behind her knowing about it. What skills. I have to sit and endure this agony.

His message of hope and the prodigal son is being lost on me, no pun intended, I'm trying so hard to be attentive and not to draw attention to myself and all the while I'm in my own little bit of crisis, and knowone knows.

My life a made for tv movie even in church, worshiping. Ugh!

And like with everything this too shall pass and it did.

What's the moral of this all too real story?

God answers prayers...

oh and don't wear the pink bra.....