December

Snow dances, swirls, and drifts right down,
Covering the grass like a big white gown.
The ground outside, so very white.
The light of fire, just as bright.

by Naomi

(The Good and the Beautiful, Language Arts, Level 6, lesson 58)

October

 A chilly wind sweeps through the land,
Throwing leaves around like sand.
I often see leaves of yellow,
They really are quite mellow.

by Naomi

(The Good and the Beautiful, Language Arts level 6, lesson 58)

 Children Playing

Children playing, lots of fun
In the rain or in the sun.
On a log or in a bog
Sun is fun for everyone.

By Harmonie

(The Good and the Beautiful, Level 7, Lesson 121)

ROSIE

R - Reading is fun.
O - O is it happy to read?
S - Sam dates Xi.
I - I love Mommy.
E - Emily is one of my favorite sisters.

by Rosie
(turns 6 tomorrow)

(The Good and the Beautiful, Level One, Lesson 20)

A Child's Prayer

I want a home

by Harmonie Roy

She has she

and he has he

But I have none,

none, but me.

I want a home

for my own.

And a family,

just for me.

But, alas,

I've been pushed and torn.

I've gone from home to home,

But, I guess I don't belong.

I call to my Maker,

I call to His name.

But, He doesn't answer,

So, I don't belong.

I grope one last time,

reaching for a hand.

If no one comes, then

I'll fall to no end.

Maybe a hand will shoot out

from the dark gray fog,

A hand might link onto my hand

And guide me to a distant land.

He is There

by Xiomara Roy

She has she

and he has he

if nothing else

you have me

Stuck in a house

with so many faces

so much commotion

and few quiet places

Pushed, poked

torn apart

quiet longing

for something more

Prayers sent, pleading to heaven

but there seems an iron curtain

Heavy, imposing, a mental block

leaving you lonely and lost

Patience, Patience

Peace, my child

wait on His timing

and Father will answer

You grope almost blindly

searching for help

reach just a little more

grasp the iron rod

I know life is hard

and it sucks to feel lonely

but trust me when I say

He always is watching

He loves you, you're precious

worth more than you know

You've got a fire, His light,

Burning deep in your soul

Trust Him, don't waver

Remember your purpose

I love you, He loves you

You're precious and worth it

You Have a Home

by Mom

She has she

and he has he

You have a home.

Just look and see.

Remember the love

and the light and the joy.

Stop looking beyond

all God has given you.

The books you read

have distorted your view.

They weave lives

not lived in reality.

What God offers

is worth more than gold.

But the world is enticing

and we may lose our way.

Jesus is mindful.

He wants to help.

But when you turn away,

there's not much He can do.

Trust in the plan.

The plan of salvation.

He wants to bring you home

but it requires your effort.

Be faithful, diligent, 

honest, and kind.

Jesus is your partner

so stay focused on Him.

The blessings of God

are eternal and glorious.

They are worth the struggle,

but they may be hard to see.

They aren't shiny, or earthly.

They require time and patience.

He will be with you

As you choose to follow Him.

Please don't let Satan

pull you into dark places.

You have a light to shine

if you'll only believe in yourself.

I love you 

so very much.

I'm sorry I struggle

to show it so you can feel it.

Be determined

as you continue to try

to follow your heart,

not the devils deceptions.

We are here for you.

Stop looking for others.

We want to be with you.

Join us on our journey.

Series

Just a note to make sure you read the next few in the correct order. Emily wrote a series of poems about RoseMarie's accident, which took place May 30, 2020. The first poem in the series is titled "Before - Fatigue" so go there first and then read them in order. I guess I could have put them all in the same post...

After - PTSD

Three old doors make a pyramid
in the firepit.

Odds and ends, loose papers,

dead branches that fell

after a big rainstorm,

it piles up - taller than me.

Mesmerizingly beautiful

flames lick the sky,

twisting and dancing,

reaching higher as if hoping

the air will taste fresher

up there. It might; after all,

the fire is so big that

we can't get much closer 

than fifteen feet before the heat

becomes too much.

So from a distance, we gaze

silently, in awe.

But a cold fist closes

over my heart when suddenly

I wonder: where is she?

I glance around, frantic,

remembering that this 

is the first time since...

I see again what I never saw:

slow-motion falling, like those videos

of trees that fall in the forest.

I hear again what I never heard:

that raw-throat screaming
with too much pain for tears.

My mind is filled with images

like an elevator

crammed full of people

jostling, shoving, uncomfortable,

until I see her

at least thirty feet away,

her back to the blaze,

unwilling to look --

too afraid.

I go to her and lift her up.

Featherweight, she clings

to me with her arms and legs

as if I am a floating log,

and she is drowning.

She trembles like a leaf, this child

who used to be so fearless,

so curious. She never used to 

hold on when she was held.

Hands are for pointing,

for reaching and grabbing,

but now she clings, and 

buries her face in my neck.