My mother and her twin brother will turn 94 in about three weeks. The way people live have changed so much in those 94 years that it is a wonder their heads aren’t spinning. Children today know so little about what life used to be like. They are so caught up with today’s gadgets and latest toys that it is probably harder for them to imagine what it was like 94 years ago than it is for my mom
Never, never ask your mom to cut your hair the night before school pictures. School pictures can be angst or fun With memories of joy or regrets. You wore your nice dress, gave a big smile For one captured moment, your best. But sometimes those moments Were less than sublime Sometimes they captured A miserable time When you tried to create What wasn’t there I pleaded and begged “Mom, please cut my hair.” I want my hair cut Just like Sara Grace All nice and smooth Every hair in its place. “But I don’t know how,” My
An easy to make flower doll One of my earliest memories of life on our Indiana farm was of my aunt showing me how to make a doll from the flower of the Althea bush growing in the front yard. The petals made a lovely long dress and the doll’s head was the unopened bud of another flower. While visiting my husband’s family I noticed the same flowers blooming all around and took advantage of the opportunity to make a
A Lament for the Siblings of My “Only” Child © 2004 by Janice Green Joni, So perfect, So right, Such a Joy, Would soon be big sister To a girl or boy. Terry, Grew too slow And then was no more. Emptiness Sadness Then resentment sore Tore at my heartstrings As time went on. Karen seemed right. She tumbled and grew And stretched out my womb. I felt life and promise That someday soon A brother or sister would share Joni’s room. But the movement stopped And hope turned to pain Home from the hospital Empty again. A lifeless baby girl Was left behind. Her father said she looked
When I use Mama's pin I am reminded of the rich heritage she gave me through her love for sewing. As I worked on my latest quilt block for my Bible storybook, The Creation, I reached for a pin in my pincushion to hold a turned piece of fabric in just the right position while I hand stitched it to the background. Although there are probably 100 pins in my pincushion, I had a particular one in mind – Mama’s
