Just had to share this image!
Aren’t these,
The cutest peas in the Pod …?
The sweetest Peas …?
May your day be blessed by utter heart-melt…
Month: May 2014
In Memoriam to The Fallen
In this evening and upcoming day of Memorial
As Israel remembers its fallen
As parents, siblings, loved ones weep and mourn:
Let it be the last day of new pain
Let there be
Please, oh God
No more war.
Anywhere.
No more dead, no more graves
No more maimed
No more grieving.
Let the bloodshed be ended.
Let the warmongering cease.
Let those who entice pain, find ways of words.
Let those who live hate, open hearts, make new doors.
There’s a way.
No more war.
We’re all people.
All someone’s baby, sibling, loved one, neighbor, friend
We all share more than what can divide us
We all hurt, love, hope, bleed.
No more violence.
There is no need.
Let there be
Hearts that open
Light to hold, hope to share, peace to mold.
Let there be
No more war.
As we weep for the fallen
As we remember what happened and wished that did not
As we tally the terrible price
The unnecessary ripping
Every death, every wounding
Agonises an ache in our hearts
A hole in our souls
Let there be
From now on
No more war.
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Gratitude
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Universality of Love
Today, I marvel at the universality
Of love.
At the way deep care connects us all.
And should. And can.
How it forms us.
How it spells the words of heart upon a child’s new soul.
How it breathes hope into desperation.
How it nourishes across languages and color, tradition, race, religion, state, connecting all.
How it writes upon the slate of birth
And opportunity.
How it shapes resilience to withstand strife and sorrow.
How it holds through thick and thin, through calm and turmoil.
Today, I marvel at the universality,
At the miracle.
Of love.
So utterly expected
So innately ordained
So perfectly humane
Yet so often bent by apathy, oblivion, ignorance, senseless hate, violence, disdain.
The very shock we feel at its absence
In itself speaks volumes
Of Love’s natural flow.
Its ingrained, spirit-sustaining need.
The bounty of fortitude and growth that it can seed.
Today,
I marvel at the awesome
Touching
Never mundane
Breathtakingly beautiful
Universality of love.
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Beautiful Like Me!
She came dancing up the stairs, ecstatic, barely able to contain her smile. And she was a sight to behold:
Pastel rainbow tutu skirt over purple denim and red t-shirt with a sparkly princess on it (and a few star stickers), pink tennis shoes (with rainbow laces), green and yellow polka-dot socks (with frilly tops), rainbow-loom bracelets on both wrists, three plastic beads necklaces (one with 1/2 inch hearts interspersed), five hair pins (with various glittery bits and in various states of sliding off), shimmery hair ties holding two droopy pigtails of dark brown corkscrew curls. A smile as wide as the ocean. And a periwinkle clutch, princess stamped and glitter splattered.
Joy incarnated.
She went directly to the long mirror, struck a pose. Her mother chuckled–the last thing her daughter looked at before leaving home was their mirror. The girl stops to admire her reflection in store windows, too.
“I’m so beautiful!” the little one noted in delight.
She was not referring to her features or her body–chubby cheeked, dimpled, lisping, and lovable all over. The beauty was in the gestalt effect of her composition. Hers is aesthetic enjoyment rather than self-adoration.
Her ensemble changes week to week, varied shades of glorious. Never her elation. The wells of her joy are bottomless, oh, the endless possibilities of pleasing presentations!
She’s a walking fashion statement. She’s as happy in oversize overalls and chunky boots (with sparkly necklaces and mismatched socks). No one would be surprised if she ends up an artist, designer, or otherwise eclectic. She’s her own being already. Absolutely comfortable in her skin. Contagiously delighting in her creations.
Yesterday, she twirled around before of my mirror. Swung her arms, touched her necklaces, straightened an errant rainbow lace, wrapped a ringlet around a finger. She grinned throughout.
“I’m so beautiful,” she sighed, satisfied, “I am beautiful like me!”
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King of the Red Train
A small boy today shared last night’s dream:
“I was the king of the red train. Red is the best. It was even more longer (sic) than the subway and another subway and another subway and it was going very fast like a cheetah and I wasn’t scared because I was the king of the red train.” (slowing to explain) “The king is the boss of the train and the whole country.” (picking up speed again) “And all the people were happy because the train was going so much fast (sic) and that’s very good. You know why?” (pausing, waiting for my query before continuing elatedly) … because they were going to get home before their ice cream melted!”
Na'ama Yehuda 
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