Here's a favorite poem to go with the season of gardening and in honor of my very own gardening guru, my hubby. ;-)
Hidden Timber
Hidden timber,
Bones of a flowerbed,
Limiting untamed growth;
Producing Flowers and Beauty;
Roots directed, and
Guided deep.
Hidden man,
Bones of the soul within,
Limiting untamed whim;
Producing Honor and Courage;
Strength directed, and
Guided deep.
--Zan Marie Steadham
April 5, 2009
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Here's a snip of what I've been writing for FRIENDLY FIRE this week:
“So, why did you discourage me when I wanted to help her?”
Her jaw tightened then she let out a sigh. “You’re not going to like this.”
I bit my lip. “Go on.”
Her
eyes glistened with tears. “You’re on your own. Tom’s not here any
more.” Her shoulders dropped. “I didn’t think you would be able to take
care of her by yourself. She’s not an angel, no matter how many times
you call her one.”
I stared at the dregs of my tea.
So.
That’s what she thought of me after decades of friendship. I thought
she respected me. But no. All she saw was weakness now that I was
without Tom.
Dragging
my gaze from the tea, I met her eyes. Flames of anger rose and I felt
my face heat. “Really? You think I’m so lost. After all this time—” My
voice shook and I turned from her as hot tears began to roll down my
face.
I rose and
headed for her back door. It would be a long time before I came back.
“Thanks for the tea, but I’ll leave your opinion of my abilities to help
Samantha with you.”
My hand was on the doorknob when she touched my shoulder. “Laura Grace, stay. Listen to me.”
“Why? So you can make me feel like an inconsequential nothing?” I turned the knob. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.”
“Why? So you can make me feel like an inconsequential nothing?” I turned the knob. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.”
I
was out of the door and halfway to my house, when she caught up with
me. “Laura Grace! I said you’re doing a wonderful job.” Her voice shook.
“You asked me why I discouraged you. I answered truthfully. Now, I know
better.”
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Have a safe and happy Fourth of July! ;-)