Thursday, December 30, 2010

The Legend Of Split Foot

Growing up our family had a fun little tradition called Split Foot who brings some extra candy and a little gift on New Year's Eve.  I believe the tradition started with my Grandfather or Great Grandfather.  Back in 2009 I wrote this story to go with our tradition.  I hope you enjoy it.  Our family has always loved Split Foot.  Feel free to incorporate it into your traditions as well if you like. 

________________________________________________________________________


A long time ago, before your Great-Great Grandfather was a small boy, a reindeer was born. This reindeer just happened to be born in the North Pole and Santa planned for him to be a part of his sleigh team that delivered toys to all the children on Christmas Eve. There was just one problem though, this cute little reindeer was born different than all the other reindeer. He was born with a big split in his hoof, which is how he got the name Split Foot. Santa had all his best vetrinarians look at Split Foot's hoof and they all agreed, there was nothing that could be done. Split Foot would always be different from the other reindeer and would never be fast enough to help deliver presents on Christmas Eve.




Split Foot grew up and would help Santa get ready for Christmas Eve by taking presents from the workshop to the wrapping house, and from the wrapping house to the delivery barn. He loved that he could help Santa in those small ways, but always wished that someday he would get a chance to deliver those presents to little boys and girls around the world. Little did he know that day would come sooner than he thought.



Christmas Eve was always a busy night with elves and reindeer hurriedly rushing about, but this particular year was even busier than most, because Santa's nice list was exceptionally long. Split Foot watched longingly as the sleigh team donned their best bells and harnesses. He tried not to be sad as he watched them fly away that night. As he was turning to head home he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Oh no, a pile of presents and candy had been left over in the corner, Santa had forgotten them! Split Foot knew it was too late to call Santa back to get them, something had to be done and he had to do it. It was then that Split Foot knew his time had come to deliver presents. As fast as he could he loaded those presents and candy onto a delivery sleigh and set off into the night sky to deliver them. He knew he would never catch up to Santa, but he would do his best and even if they got there late it was better than them not getting there at all.



Split Foot flew as fast and as hard as he could. On New Year's Eve he made it to the houses that had been forgotten and when the children woke up on New Year's Day they found their missing present and candy from Santa waiting for them on the fireplace. Every year since then Split Foot has always found a few presents and candy that Santa forgot to put in the sleigh and delivers them on New Year's Eve. Maybe this year you will be one of the lucky children that finds a delivery from Split Foot.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

And So I Write

I have words that long for the spilling.  They tumble inside of me, deep.  And so I write.

I am invisible.  Lost in the world of diapers and dishes.  Who I am is trapped within.  And so I write.

I have songs that wait for hearts to sing them.  And so I write.

I am filled with stories just waiting for eyes to read them.  And so I write.

I write and I write until I feel that I am empty of words.  I write and I write letting the inner me escape the trappings of wipes and dish soap.  I write and I write listening for hearts that are singing.  I write and I write in hopes that eyes enjoy the reading.

The words have been loosed, the poet awakend......

and so I write.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

A Little Color

So my good friend's daughter drew this amazing picture which she entitled "A Little Color".  I love it.  I would hang it on my wall.  It inspires me.  In her description of the picture she says that she is seeking inspiration.  Her void has become my well, so to speak.  With her permission I will add the picture to this blog. 

A Little Color


I stand solitary and alone in the darkness. 
Devoid of color.
In the world that I have become stranded on.
I watch as life keeps on swimming past me,
Out of reach.
I raise my arms up to the Light.
I raise my arms and I cry out for colors to fill the darkness.
The Light sends me colors bright.
My open arms are filled with them.
Shades of purple color my hands and circle my head.
Purple, the color of royalty.
The Light has reminded me that I am His.
I am His and I am royal.
Suddenly, my surroundings seem less dark.
The life that is swimming by doesn't seem as far.
All it took was just
A Little Color.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Lucky, The Little Dragon

Once upon a time, there was a little dragon. His name happened to be Lucky, but he certainly did not feel as though he was very lucky.  Lucky's life had been hard for him.  He got teased a lot by the other dragon's at his school, Dragon's Breath Elementary, because he didn't live with his real parent's like all of the other dragons did.  He lived in a foster home with a really nice family of dragons.




Lucky's real parents didn't take care of him the way they should have and some bad things happened to him.  That is why he was put into a new home with the Fire-Flyer family.  His new foster family loved Lucky a lot and wanted to help him feel good about himself and know that no matter what had happened to him before that he was a very special little dragon.  Even if bad things had happened to Lucky, that didn't make Lucky a bad dragon.





Lucky, feeling sad and completely unlucky felt as if he must have been a bad dragon for his real parents to have treated him so unkindly.  He liked his new family, but he wasn't sure if he could trust them.  What if they decided he wasn't a good dragon anymore?  Would they be mean to him like his parents had?  Lucky decided that he would just be very quiet.  If he was a quiet dragon no one would notice him.  If no one noticed him then they couldn't think he was bad and they wouldn't stop loving him and want to hurt him.





His foster family noticed how quiet he was and they couldn't get him to talk, so they took Lucky to see a counselor.  The counselor was an older dragon, with fluffly black hair.  Her name was Sarah Snaggleclaw.  She told Lucky that he could call her Sarah.  Lucky didn't say anything.  Sarah, smiled at Lucky and told him that it was okay to be quiet.  She showed him around her office.  She had some toys, books, and games to play with.  She asked if Lucky would like to play with any of them, but he just looked down at his feet and wiggled his claws.




Sarah started to talk about herself.  She told Lucky all about growing up and how she used to be teased because of her fluffy black hair.  She told him that she had always wanted purple hair or green hair like the rest of the dragon girls and how the teasing made her feel so bad about her own hair that she began to be quiet and try to hide so that she wouldn't be noticed.  She told him that it took her a long time to start talking and that her parents had to take her to a counselor when she was little.  It had taken her a long time to want to talk to the counselor, so it was okay if Lucky just wanted to be quiet. 




Sarah handed him some paper and crayons and told him that he could color a picture for her instead of talking.  Lucky loved to color.  He drew and drew until before he knew it, it was time to go home.  The next week when Lucky came he went straight to the paper and crayons.  He drew lots of pictures.  Occassionally he would stop to tell Sarah about what he was drawing. 





This went on every week until one week Lucky decided that Sarah was safe to talk to.  He began to talk and he told her about all sorts of things.  Things like school, his foster family, and what he wanted to be when he grew up.




It took him a long time before he would talk to Sarah about his past and what had happened to him, but eventually he talked about that, too.  He was worried that when he told her she would decide that he was a bad dragon and not want to see him anymore, but she didn't.  She told Lucky how what happened to him was wrong.  It was wrong and it wasn't his fault.  She told him that he deserved to be loved and was a very good and lovable dragon.  She told him that he had a lot of good things about him and that he should share those things with everyone instead of hiding and being quiet.





Lucky wasn't sure if she was right or not, but he decided to try.  He began talking at his foster home.  He discovered that they still loved him.  They still loved him and weren't mean to him, even if he was noisy,  did things wrong, or sometimes said things that weren't very nice.  They still loved him and didn't think he was bad. 





He became brave enough to start speaking at school again too.  He began talking and he started showing people his artwork.  Lucky started to have friends and he was happy.  There were still times when he got teased, but he learned that he didn't have to listen to the teasing.  He could ignore it, because he knew that what the teasers were saying wasn't true.  He knew he was loved, that he was a good dragon, and he really was lucky, even if he lived in a foster home and his past wasn't so lucky.  His name was Lucky and he finally felt like he really was a lucky little dragon.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Old Poetry

 Some samples of my old poems from before I met my husband.  Dates included, but not in order.


LONELINESS
Loneliness comes with icy cold fingers, Numbing my soul, blinding my heart.
 She whispers of needs that haven't been met.
 Her words twist my thoughts, Until touch equals love and attention, desire.
 In the arms of tonight's lover, She sings me to sleep.
 In the morning, I awaken to an empty bed.
Her fingers digging deeper within my soul.
 3/2/98




TREPIDATION
I come to you on trepid feet, scared and hurting.
 My mind and heart in constant battle.
I try to play the dauntless warrior, brave and fearless.
 My eyes a shield, my heart a stronghold.
 I hide my worry, hold back my love.
 I play the game, but fear the outcome.
I become a hardened veteran, aloof and unfeeling.
 My fingertips cool, my touch mechanical.
 I conceal my dreams, withhold my soul.
 I want your love, but don’t trust your motives.
I come to you on trepid feet, scared and hurting.
 My mind and heart in constant battle.
 5/30/98


THE DANCE
She closes her eyes and there he is, the man she has always dreamt of.
Describe him, she cannot, not in terms of height and weight, for he is more than that.  So very much more.
He is warmth and tenderness, intellect and humor, insight and vision, sincerity and nurturing.
He is her perfect compliment.

She feels his arms wrap around her chilled body, his warmth seeps through every pore like a hot shower after being caught in a cold rain.
As he holds her he tells her of her inner beauty and her strengths and listens as she tells him of her weaknesses.
He kisses her fragile ego and reminds her of her strengths once more.
This time she hears him.

She runs her hand across his face, tracing each line of wisdom around his eyes, hoping that some of his insight will find its way inside of her.
He takes her hand and kisses every portion of it very gently.
 He wants so much for her to trust him, to become a part of him.
They secure their hold on one another as their dance has just begun.
 1/2/98


TOGETHER
You are miles away, yet I can feel your touch.
 Your care worn hands gently and securely holding my trembling fingers.
 The soft roundness of your lips sweetly kissing my palms.
I am miles away, yet I know that you can sense my presence.
 My cautious hand carefully learning the curve of your cheek.
 The timidness of my lips as they taste the comfort your mouth has to offer.
We are miles apart, yet we know each other.
 The strength that your hand in mine gives me and the tenderness that mine gives you.
 The acceptance within your kisses and the faith willingly given in mine.
We are miles apart, you and I, but we are together
1/2/98


LOVE'S RHAPSODY
Drink me -
 drink me and feel the liquid of my love ignite your soul,
swelling passion to its fullest height.
Engulf me -
 engulf me with your arms, your mind, your soul, yourself.
Holding me as we become one.
Deeper -
fall deeper into me. Let me wrap myself around you like a blanket.
 My burning kisses and blazing touch will warm you like a fire.
Burst -
 burst within me. Fill me with your love.
Drench me with desire.
Protect me -
 protect me from the night, the hurt, the pain, the loneliness.
Become my armor as I become your heart.
 1997


UNTITLED 1
Touch me - NOT with your hands, but with your soul.
 Hear me - NOT with your ears, but with your heart.
See me - NOT with your eyes, but with your emotions.
 Search for me - NOT because I am lost, but because without me, a part of you is.
Find me - NOT when I am alone, but within a crowd of people.
2/10/98


BEING
I am rusted barbed wire surrounding a vacant beach and vast ocean.
 I am a replenishing rain after a drought.
 I am the blazing hot sun beating down on parched grass.
I am the joy found in a child’s laughter and the sorrow held in a mourner’s cry.
I am a gentle breeze drying the remnants of last night’s storm.
 I am a nourishing meal after a long fast.
 I am the aching loneliness of a cold starless night.
I am the seeds of dandelion puffs blowing in the wind.
 2/18/98

Story #2 Untitled Beginning

At 5 foot 6 inches, she wasn't the tallest of women, but she wasn't the shortest either.  Her hair was long and had naturally varrying shades of blonde, brown, and red in it.  She was a little more than pleasantly plump and was incredibly beautiful, although she didn't know it.  Her name, Kairavel, was as unique as she was.

Her Mother had loved the Narnia books growing up and always thought that the name Cair Paravel was beautiful.  When Kairavel was born her Mother wanted her name to be as beautiful and as royal sounding as she felt her daughter was.  She blended the two words together and used a "K" instead of a "C", just because she thought a "K" looked prettier when written.

Now in her early twenties, Kairavel felt neither beautiful or royal.  She felt plain and rather ordinary.  Especially at this moment.  When she had left the house this morning she had felt good about herself, maybe even confident, but now, now she wasn't sure.  Her confidence was fading quickly and she was steadily becoming unsure of herself.

She stood on the front steps of an apartment building in a nicer neighborhood.  Her heart was pounding and she wasn't sure if she should push the bell or not.  As she stood having an internal conversation about what to do she didn't notice the handsome man who came up behind her.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Story #1 Untitled As of Yet

Feet covered in warm slippers, knees pulled up to my chest, sitting deep in an overstuffed chair, I watch the rain run slowly down the window.  The sky is gray, no clouds, no sun, just gray.  I sigh loudly into the empty silence around me.  My heart feels as gray as the sky.


 I am tired and worn down.  I want to shrink the world down to the size of my living room.  To exist only here, in this space of warmth and comfort I have created.  I sigh again.  Looking through the dirt smudged window I see a bigger world facing me than my living room holds.  I  can't hide from that world or deny its existance.  It is facing me.  I watch the rain a little longer, wishing its steady flow could wash my soul clean.


I close my eyes and my heart cries out to God.  "Oh Lord, Lord.  I don't have the words anymore.  I feel so empty, so devoid of anything.  Fill me Lord.  Fill me with what it is I need, for I am an empty vessel.  Fill me soon Lord or I fear that these walls of mine will collapse in around me."


The doorbell rings, colliding that outside world into mine.

Slowly I rise up and walk to the door.  I am not expecting anyone. The children are still at school.  When I get to the door no one is there, but there is a bag on my doorstep.  I open up the bag and find that someone has left me some clothes and winter coats.  An offering of kindness from an annonymous giver. I appreciate the giving.  Their generosity allows us to afford some luxeries.

As I sort through the clothes I see a coat that is too big for any of my children.  It looks brand new.   I know that my neighbor has a daughter about the size of this coat.  This year has been hard for her and her child.  Harder than anything I can ever imagine going through.  I am sure she could use it. 

I walk over to her house and ring her doorbell.  She answers and I ask if she would like the coat, maybe to use as a Christmas present for her daughter.  Her eyes light up and she says that she would love it, because that will be the only present her daughter will be getting this year.  She asks if I can hide it for her at my house and bring it back on Christmas morning. 

I leave her house feeling overcome with emotions.  Walking back into the world of my home I stop and look at my surroundings.  The tree, large and beautifully lit in my living room.  The stockings hung with care.  I look at all that we have.  I look at the tree again, knowing that Christmas morning it will be surrounded by gifts. 

Suddenly I don't feel quite so worn down and tired.  I feel blessed.  I have much to be thankful for.  My burdens are light compared to others.  I am no longer empty, but I am filled with grattitude.