Mother's Day is just a week away. It will be the first one celebrated since my dear mother passed away. I know it won't be the same but I have to go through the paces so that my children won't know just how sad I really am. I always love to visit my daughter, Marie and her husband, Tom on special occasions because Marie enjoys doing things for me and her dad. So, on Mother's Day we will be coming back from three days of camping out (our first time in six years) and we will go directly to Marie and Tom's house for a nice luncheon. Hopefully, our son, Chuck and his wife, Betty, will also be there. Our original plans (Marie and Tom's) were to go with our daughter and son-in-law to Harper's Ferry for two days and come back on Mother's Day. Things didn't pan out the way we wanted because Tom has a major fishing tornament that weekend. So, we opted for camping instead. It will be so nice being by ourselves and just relaxing in Nature. We have missed doing that over these last six years, but one thing or another has prevented us from going out with our camper. Well, it's all water under the bridge, so to speak. No sense in rehashing it now. Some things took priority, that's all. And my mother's care came first in my life at that time. Now that we are alone again, we can begin to take trips or camp as often as we want to. I just hope the rising cost of gas doesn't prevent us from traveling, even to the campgrounds that are close by us. I guess that remains to be seen. I won't borrow trouble. It comes often enough anyway. Mother's Day has always been special to me. I have many wonderful memories of celebrating Mother's Day with my own mother. I remember once when I was in fourth grade, the teacher gave us construction paper and told us how to make woven baskets on a card for our mothers. I painstakingly cut strips of brown construction paper and, following a pattern, wove the strips into a basket design. Then, with bright colored paper, I made flowers and pasted them into the basket. When I was finished, I had a very attractive card to give my mother. When I gave it to her she complimented me on the beauty of the basket of flowers. It made my young heart so glad that she was pleased with my card. Mother kept that card for many years. I'd love to see that card now but after such a long time and many relocations, it was probably thrown away with other things a person tosses when packing to move. I can't blame Mom for that. I've done the same thing time and again in the years we moved while my husband was in the Army. All wives of service men have to do that. I'm glad I still have the memory of giving Mother that card though. It was special to her and to me, our own private memory together. HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY all you mothers out there of all ages. Motherhood is special, only given to women by God. We accept it with all the pain and sorrow, smiles and tears, years of trials and errors. Finally when we think we have actually succeeded in learning "How" to be a good mother, the children leave the nest. But, isn't that what God meant to happen? Look at the birds---they do the same thing. Even so, motherhood is a badge of courage. We welcome and accept the challenges of motherhood. Thank you, God.

Sister Love

This was a lovely, warm day for January 24th. The snow melted and the fog finally lifted. I went to physical therapy for my left shoulder, the rotator cuff. It's getting better after almost three months of therapy, but it's not well by any means. It doesn't hurt so much any more except when the therapist forces it to move beyond the stiffness it still has. My range of motion is very much improved, except for putting my arm up behind me. That motion still has a long way to go to be as good as the right arm movements. I hope so much that it was already well. The pain is getting to me now and I am very frustrated. I know everyone at the p.t. office by their first names and they certainly know me. They've all had a hand in giving me therapy at one time or another.

I'm going to see my sisters tomorrow after lunch. I'll pick up Gene and take her with me to see Barbara. Last week she was not doing well. She has her bad days now and then. Each time I go to visit her, she seems to be thinner. I was appalled to see how thin her arms and legs had become in the last month. When she held up her arm, I could see both bones from the wrist to the elbow, almost visible beneath the skin. They were so distinct, it was hard to look at them. I never in my life thought that my baby sister would be the one to go first of Mother's three natural daughters. She has always been so loving and kind to her family as well as friends and neighbors. She is a good Christian and made many friends in her church home. I was happy to hear that some of them came to see her and sing to her.

Barbara is also a poet, coming by it quite late in life. She never thought she had any talents to explore and wondered why God didn't give her any to develop. She always envied me the many talents God had bestowed upon me. I have been a writer since I was twelve years of age. She wanted to write poetry too. I told her to ask God for a gift and be ernest about it. She said she prayed many times about receiving a gift. One day during a shower she was surprised that words came to her, very quickly. She recognized that it was words to a poem and she was anxious to get out of the shower to write them down. She begged God to let her remember what was coming into her mind. As quickly as she could, after drying herself, she grabbed paper and pencil and wrote down the words she was hearing in her mind. When she was finished, reading it over, she realized that God had just given her a lovely spiritual poem, her first one. She was so happy that she called me right away to tell me. I was so happy for her. "See, I told you that if you ask God for a gift that you would receive one," I said. I was so proud of her. God hears and answers prayers of those who truly believe. And Barbara really does. Since that time, about eight years ago, she has written many lovely poems. She calls me up each time and reads them to me, sometimes asking for help in the phrasing. I am glad she trusts me that much. About a year and a half ago, Barbara wrote a lovely poem entitled "Jesus is my Life Line." It was so good that her pastor asked for a copy. He, in turn, gave it to his choir director who wrote music for it. Now her church members sing it almost every Sunday. The first time the choir director was going to introduce it to the church and surprise Barbara, her husband Bill, who knew about it, asked us to come to her church to hear the song too. So, Mother, my sisters, Gene and Leasa, and I went to Barbara's church. When they all sang Barbara's song, she cried. She was so humble and pleased to hear her poem that was made into a song. Her poem honored Jesus and so, she was humbled and honored to hear it sung with such love. I think not a one of our family had dry eyes that morning. God bless her.

God loves Barbara so much that He wants her in heaven with Him. It won't be long now and she will indeed be with her heavenly Father for all eternity. God bless you, Barbara. I love you so much and already miss you. I hope to join you and Mother some day, if it is God's will. I have been blessed to have three wonderful sisters who have always shown great love for one another. And then to have an adopted "baby" brother, our family has been greatly blessed. I love you all.

Sister Love

Hello, blogger friends:

I just have to tell you all that I got my "Heroes" devotion published on our Portions of Grace blog site today. Hooray! I hope everyone enjoys it. I was so worried about getting it done without calling my friend, Virginia again this time.

Today is so windy and cold, almost blustery. It feels just like it will snow soon. We do need the snow for the sake of the farmers and their crops of winter wheat, barley and other hardy grains that are grown in Maryland. I saw, even at this late date, several corn crops that had not been harvested yet. I wonder why the raccoons haven't gotten into the field and destroyed the ears of corn hanging down on the stalks? I remember once I had planted several rows of corn and just as they were in the half-way mark of developing full ears, I found them all knocked down and the corn ears eaten. I was so angry that had I owned a rifle or even a pistol at that time I would have gladly shot every one of those marauding varmints to pieces and celebrated at their demise. It is so devastating to have a whole crop of corn destroyed over night after I worked so long and so hard to be able to harvest and enjoy the food that I grew.

Since we've been here at this Mountain Rd. address, I have seen many, many deer roaming on our property. Oh, they are such beautiful animals, so much like the goats I used to raise. I enjoy watching them wander along the edges of the woods behind our house. Sometimes the doe will bring her new babies out of the woods and they will nibble off the green grass in the spring time. The babies frolic about while the mother deer nibbles here and there, keeping her eyes on them.

Just yesterday I was walking our pug dog down in the clearing in the woods and in just a short distance away was a doe and three yearlings. The mother saw me and Krickett so she stood very still, ears pointed toward us, just watching to see how close we were coming to her and the youngsters. I walked very slowly behind Krickett. She didn't seem to notice the deer just yards away from us. Presently the three youngsters wandered off away from us. The mother doe still stood her ground. She stomped her forefoot, a warning to us not to come any closer. Krickett still did not see her and continued sniffing through the fallen leaves. The doe stomped again. I held the leash so Krickett could not advance further. By this time the little yearlings were a good way off from us. The doe sensed that her youngsters were not in any danger so she finally turned and slowly followed their trail. In just a few seconds they could no longer be seen. They "melted" into the darkness of the trees.

I never tire of seeing nature at its best. I feel the blood of my Indian ancestors stir in my veins when I am walking in the woods, watching the animals and birds in their habitat. I was also blessed to see a beautiful bluebird with it's red vest lite in a tree overhead. I'm glad Krickett did not see him or he would have flown away too soon.

How blessed I am to see such beauty all around me. I can't wait for spring to come so that the bulbs, which are already up more than an inch, will be shooting up higher every day. But for now, they are asleep in their earth nests, awaiting the rays of sunshine that will be strong enough to awaken them again. I sigh heavily and I dream. Until next time, bloggers. Happy reading.

blog boo-boo's

It has been a nightmare for several months when trying to publish my devotionals to our Portions of Grace blog spot. I have worked tirelessly on typing them in the proper space and when hitting the "publish" button, nothing happens. My frustration built up to a high-pitch from trying to get them published. Finally, I just called a good friend who also publishes on P.O.G. and she puts my devotional on for me. Yes, it's wonderful when I see it in print but it lacks the complete satisfaction of doing all of it myself. Still, I hope and pray when others read it that it touches a place in their heart that may have been luke-warm. Now after reading what I have written, perhaps they took interest and drew just a little closer to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

I don't consider myself a "great" writer, but I try to do my best to express the love and warmth that loving God brings out in me. I hope the reader receives that message when perusing my work.

I love writing poetry almost as much as I love writing devotionals and children's stories. When I get right down to it, I love the most what I am working on at the moment. To me, it is a gift from God, the Father. I know that He gives each of His creations (humans) different "gifts". For me it is writing and also many of the other things I can do, such as gardening, sewing, knitting, crocheting, and painting. Whatever I do I try to do it as if I am doing it for our Lord. I can only hope that it is pleasing to our heavenly Father.

I wrote a Christmas poem entitled "Christmas Morn" and submitted it for critique to our writers group. Only minor corrections were made and I was scheduled to post it on our Portions of Grace blog site on December 25th, Christmas day. Well, I got up early and did all the necessary typing in the proper blog space and when I was done, I pushed "publish". Nothing happened. I was about to panic when I remembered my good friend, Virginia Colclasure. I e-mailed her and explained my situation. She told me to send the poem to her and she would post it for me. I was so grateful. As it is, I felt like I had failed the writers group. But, as long as the poem got published, then it was alright. I hope that many eyes read the poem and was blessed by it.

Now, I am going to try harder than ever to make sure my computer does what it's supposed to do. I'm a ding-bat when it comes to "fixing" a problem with the computer, but I'll sure try or find someone who can do it for me. I'm not a quitter. I am also not a slacker. I do my share of work and sometimes more, but my work gets done sooner or later.

And speaking of work...I've got mounds of ironing to finish, a house to clean, and more letters to write. So, until next time, may God be with you. E. Bonnie