151. Prodigal

Probably not the best

Route that he could take

Instead of working hard and long

Destruction he did make

Irresponsible and lost

Goats ate better than he

And so he went back home again

Love set him free

150. The Hero's Fight

When heroes rise

They rule the day.

They fight the foe,

Don't run away.

They hack and leap

And swing and jump.

They fight the evil.

Win. Fist pump.

The world is safe

Another night.

They're ready for

Another fight.

But what of when

Our hero's old?

His muscles gone?

His story told?

What happens to 

the hero then,

When people say

"Remember when..."?

All heroes must

Grow old in time.

They cannot always 

stop the crime.

And though it's sad

To see them go.

We love them but 

It's time. We know.

But soon one more

Will come along.

And lead us in

Our fighting song.

New heroes rise

They rule the day.

They fight the foe,

Don't run away.

149. Boys Sounds

Trains go choo

Ghosts go boo

Cars go vroom

Drums go boom

148. The Stepmother

Cinderella wants to go to the ball. Of course I can't allow it, but I can't refuse her wish outright. The invitation was clear. Her name, there above even my own. I cannot overrule the prince's decree. But she must not leave the estate. No, it would ruin everything. If she goes, she is sure to tell of her servitude. I cannot risk that. She may be a worthless brat, but she is still mistress of this estate by law. So long as I live I will not let her take my place. 

She doesn't know, but she is one of the few. Sir Eccles was a monster. He tricked me out of what is rightfully mine. This land should be mine. This house should be mine. But no, he had to go and settle it all on his brat. And publicize it. The shame of it when the court announced that girl's name as his heir instead of mine. I flush even now at the thought of it. I was mortified. And then to find out I don't even follow on the event of her death -- what a terrible trick to play on me. 

So now I must keep up this pretense. The girl is a hermit, they think. She is mute and shy. Twice yearly they come to see that she still lives. They must come in the dead of night, I insist, so as not to send her into a fit. Oh, the trouble those visits cause. She cannot know, for she would speak and all would be lost. 

The drug is powerful. It does the work. Denise always complains that she finds cinders in her room for days afterward. But it is worth it to keep our position hear. 

But how do I keep her from the ball?

147. The Lightning Makes The Stars

When Earth was formed the sky was pure

The black held solid, The darkness sure.

The nights were calm, a quiet rest,

But blank could not bring happiness

The black of night caused friction deep

Amidst the sky that does not sleep.

An angry crack, a mighty ring,

Brought the first bright white lightning.

Across the sky the bolt arced wide

It split the heavens side to side.

It pierced the solid black of night

And where it struck, it left a light.

For out beyond the blackened space

A glorious light, a joyous place,

Lay waiting for the men of earth

To pass through life and second birth.

The anger of the skies brought fear

But those who saw the star gave cheer

For past the aches of chains and rope

They saw the peace. They lived with hope.

Each time the sky ripped loud and clear

A little star would then appear

For lightning broke the sky apart,

But left a star to lift the heart.

And now when lightning splits the sky

Don't shake with fear or sit and cry.

But think of all the light you see

Beyond the storm. God waits for thee.

146. The Maid

No one notices you when you are a servant. You are only there to do what the Royals find beneath them. That is no matter. They do not see what they do not want to see. And they do not want to see us. So we are invisible. But we are not blind.
I see Lady Gianette preparing for her betrothal. I see how she spends extra time at her mirror when Prince Edmond will be present. I see how she regards herself as the second lady of the palace. She thinks only the queen is above her.
She does not see what she does not want to see. She does not see the prince is indifferent to her. She does not see that he searches for another. She does not see that he wants more than her pretty gowns and her painted face. She does not see what this ball really was. And she does not see that he has found another to replace her.
But she will see it. They will not let her go blindly on.
The queen received the message today. "I have found her" was all the page said, but it was all the queen needed to hear. All the maids needed to hear. All I needed to hear. Lady Gianette will lose her place. I pity her. She knows nothing but her expectation to be queen. and now she will lose that. No doubt she will find some other suitor who will gladly wed her. Perhaps she will move on quickly.
Perhaps she will not. But this is Lady Gianette so she will.
She will not be blind for long.
I only hope she does not lay ruin for the new princess. And I hope that the princess will see.

145. Salute

Salute to the fallen

Salute to the free

Salute to the men

Who are braver than me

Salute to the sky

Salute to the ground

Salute to the water

And those underground

Salute to the fighter

Salute to the flier

Salute to the swimmer

The runner, the climber

Salute to the troops

Salute to the way

Salute to the freedom

Salute USA

144. What Do You Want From Life?

What do you want from the world today?

What do you want from life?

What will you ask from the Lord today?

Can he take away your strife?

If He takes your trials, how can you grow?

If He takes your doubts, how can you know?

How can you learn? Can you return? 

What do you want from life?

What do you want from the world today?

What do you want to see?

What will you ask from the Lord today?

Who do you want to be?

If you see with faith, how can you fail?

If you see with love, you can prevail.

What will you do? Who will you be?

What will you do with your life?

143. Carousel

Pony, pony, pony, frog

Pony, kitty, pony, dog

Pony, zebra, rabbit, hog

Ride the carousel through the fog

142. Dry At Last

The twelfth day 

The rain did cease

The little children 

were released

From walls and roof

The children ran

Free at last

To roam their land

To backyard grass

And trampolines

The little feet

Did scurry and swing

Warm shone the sun

The kids ran fast

They celebrate

It's dry at last

141. Hotdog Princess Dress

There once was a young princess who loved hotdogs. She would eat fried hotdogs for breakfast, boiled hotdogs for lunch (sometimes she let her chef include some macaroni and cheese) and roasted hotdogs for dinner. When she was really hungry, she would ask for hotdog pie for dessert. 

Whenever the princess visited the townspeople they would salute her with hotdogs-on-a-stick and offer her fresh-baked hotdog bread or cool hotdogs dipped in cheesesauce. Everybody loved the princess and the princess loved everybody (especially when they gave her hotdogs).

One day the princess was walking through the market, chewing on a steaming hotdog sandwich, when she spotted a new sign that said "Danny's Dandy Dresses: What Will You Wear?" The man standing next to the sign was yelling to the people passing by. "Danny can make a dress from anything! Yes, sir! Anything you name, Danny can make a dress from it. Silk? No problem. Wheat? No problem. Oak Leaves? No problem! Bring Danny your material and you will have the dress you have always desired!"

The princess was delighted. "Hotdogs!" She yelled to Danny the Dressmaker. "I want a dress made of hotdogs!"

Danny was taken aback. No one had ever asked for a dress made of hotdogs. "Dresses can't be made from hotdogs, silly girl," Danny laughed. He didn't know who she was, and he turned away to call for more customers.

The princess was very sad that she couldn't have a hotdog dress, and she began to cry. All the merchants around noticed the princess crying and were angry at the dressmaker for making their princess sad.

They circled around the dressmaker and told him to make a hotdog dress for the princess. "You said you could make s dress from anything," they said. "The princess asked for a hotdog dress, so you should make a hotdog princess dress for her."

The dressmaker was surprised. He didn't know she was the princess, but he didn't want to seem stupid so he pretended that he did. "The princess? Well of course I'm going to make her a hotdog princess dress. I was just testing your loyalty to your royalty. I will have the hotdog princess dress ready in three days," he declared.

Everybody cheered and the princess ran home to tell her parents.

On the morning of the third day the princess rushed from the palace to the market to find the dressmaker. The whole village was already there, anxious to see what Danny the Dressmaker had made for their princess.

When Danny opened the curtain to his shop, there was a beautiful brown princess gown hanging on the wall. It had a big skirt that poofed out in a wide circle, made with layers and layers of long hotdogs, each looped hotdog wider than the last. It had hotdog lace and hotdog buttons, and it even came with a matching hotdog hat. 

The princess was so excited that she immediately ran into the shop to try it on. Danny the dressmaker had done his job well. It fit the princess perfectly. She gave Danny a big hug and announced to the whole town that she loved her hotdog princess dress. 

After that, everybody wanted Danny to make dresses for them, too (but not out of dogs). Danny the Dressmaker became the most famous dressmaker in the kingdom. He travelled around the kingdom making dresses out of licorice and dresses out of caramel and dresses out of pasta. But every year on the Proncess's birthday he would always come back and make her a new hotdog princess dress.

140. The Dare

Sometimes at camp they're crazy

In daytime boys are lazy

And though their brains are hazy

They like a good dare.

And so they tend to ignore

The signs that they find a bore

And pass right through the gate door

That clearly says "beware."

They climb up to the hilltop

And look around when they stop

To see if any stray cop

Has followed them up there.

They've shoved him in a hamper,

The very youngest camper,

A screamer and a stamper,

Joe's quite easy to scare.

They run away. They're hiding.

Joe peaks out from the siding.

And here slipping and sliding

Comes a grumbly bear.

The poor boy starts to crying.

The campers laugh to dying 

For trickery and lying

The joke they all share.

The rain is simply pouring

Upon the grassy flooring.

The joke is getting boring

When lightning cuts the air.

Getting struck by lightning

They say is very frightening

But much like teeth whitening

The chance is very rare.

They say that when it strikes you

The power goes right through

And though it may delight you

You soon will miss your hair.

The bigger boys are shaken

Afraid their life's been taken.

But little Joe's not quakin'.

He screams out "Fair is fair."

The boys are all still livin'

They've asked him for forgivin'

"Only once you've given

Me everything you wear."

Back through the gates they're crawling

Some yelling, some are bawling.

For couselors Joe is calling

To see their bottoms bare.

Sometimes at camp they're crazy

In daytime boys are lazy

And though their brains are hazy

They like a good dare.

139. Not I, Said the Cat

Clarence the Cat was your usual barnyard cat. It was his job to protect the fields, the barn, and the house from rat and bird infestations. He did his job and he did it well. He was the best mouser in town. 

One morning Clarence was stalking a particularly clever rat through the grain fields. This rat had eluded capture several times and was beginning to be quite a nuisance. He had been chewing the bottoms of several stalks of wheat which was not good for the farmer. This morning, Clarence had spotted the rat nibbling on some wheat seeds that he had knocked to the ground. Clarence flattened himself to the ground and slowly approached his target. Just before he pounced a little red hen dashed over, squawking and flapping her wings. The startled rat scampered off. Clarence had lost him again. 

"Ooo, seeds!" The little red hen clucked loudly. "Who will help me plant these seeds?" She asked excitedly. 

Clarence was in no mood for the hen's games. "Not I," said the cat as he slunk away to find his prey again.

The seasons changed and with the harvest came Clarence's heaviest teaching load. Miss Florine had birthed four kittens to him that spring and now it was time to teach them to hunt. The rats came in greater numbers during harvest, eager to feast on the farmer's plentiful crops.

Clarence took his four students to the field and tried to teach them the basics of pouncing. Mittens and Tiger were ready to learn but JuJu and Hyperion only wanted to play. They chased each other around and jumped and clawed and tumbled about, knocking into their siblings and creating a fuss. 

"Calm down, you two. You need to listen to learn," Clarence called to them, but it only made them more eager to play. JuJu swatted at Clarence's tail and Hyperion pounced on him from behind and flattened his head to the ground. "See, Daddy? We're learning!" Hyperion grinned down at his father. 

Clarence was about to answer when the little red hen ran over and clucked "my wheat is ready. Who will help me cut the wheat?" She looked down at Clarence expectantly.

"Not I," said the cat as he rolled over and shook his son from him. "I'm a little busy at the moment." The little red hen clucked in anger at him and waddled off to find the dog.

"Daddy," asked Mittens softly, "why do the rats eat our food?" 

Clarence explained the rats' greedy habits to his kittens while simultaneously defending his backside from the rambunctious antics of Hyperion.

"Now, it's your turn," he told his kittens when he had pinned down his feisty boy. "You can't track a rat if you can't track me. You four close your eyes and count to twenty while I go hide. Whoever finds me first gets the first lick from the cream bowl tonight." The four kittens mewed with excitement and quickly ducked their heads to start counting.

Clarence dashed off and hid beneath the henhouse. He lay calmly waiting for his kittens to find him when the little red hen noisily rushed over to him. "Who will help me grind the wheat into flour? Who? Who?" She pecked at his fur as she flapped noisily around. 

"Not I," said the cat grumbling under his breath. "I'm busy."

"You lazy thing!" She squawked and she pecked him once more for good measure before she scurried off.

Clarence rolled his eyes at the hen and waited patiently. He watched from his shadowy hiding place as his kittens ran around the barnyard searching for him. He laughed each time Hyperion tripped over his own feet or JuJu or Mittens scared one of the ducks from their pond.

As Hyperion shot out of the doghouse, chased by two of the young, playful puppies Tiger chided softly "he's not very good at this, is he, Dad?"

Clarence's jumped to his feet and crashed into the henhouse above him. He hadn't even heard Tiger approach, but there he was lying calmly where Clarence had just been. The commotion from the hens above caught the attention of the other kittens and they came bounding over.

"Tiger wins," said Clarence, trying to slow his racing heart. "Well done. Now let's try you on some real rats."

Before they had all climbed out from under the henhouse the little red hen bustled up to them and planted herself firmly in front of Clarence.

"My flour is all ready. Who will help me make the flour into dough?" 

"Not I," said the cat. "The kittens are going on their first hunt."

"Cluck," said the little red hen, "I'll do it myself," and she entered the henhouse with ruffled feathers.

"Daddy," Mittens asked quietly, "why does the hen keep asking you to help? There are plenty of other hens to help her. And she has her chicks. And she doesn't really like us cats. And the farmer's wife always gives her bread anyway." 

Clarence smiled at his curious daughter and shook his head. "I don't know. But I do know the farmer won't like keeping us around if I don't teach you kittens how to hunt. Let's go," he said, and they raced off after the other kittens.

The farmer whistled a high pitch just as the sun was reaching the horizon. Clarence rounded up his kittens and they carried their trophies high as they made their way to the house for dinner. As they came out of the field, the little red hen was there waiting for them. 

"Who will help me bake my dough into bread?" the hen demanded. 

"Not I," said the cat wearily. "The farmer has called us in." He followed behind his kittens who were prancing about. As they walked up the steps to the farmhouse, each kitten dropped a small rat at the farmer's feet and mewed proudly. 

The farmer reached down and scratched Clarence behind the ears. "Good work, boy. You've done a fine job today."

The sky was dark by the time Clarence and Miss Florine snuck out of the farmhouse. The kittens had finally fallen asleep and Clarence wanted a chance to relax by the pond with his wife. He'd had a busy day and he was exhausted. As Miss Florine gently licked his face and ears, Clarence relaxed and was soon drifting off into a peaceful sleep. 

But the stillness of the night was broken by the sharp, angry clucking of the little red hen.

"Who will help me..." broke into Clarence's dream and he groaned. But tired as he was, the little red hen had been asking for help all day and he knew he should give help now that he was no longer busy.

"I will," said the cat. He got up to help, even though he hadn't heard what she was asking for help with this time. "What do you need?" he asked, but his voice was drowned out by the clambering noises of the other barnyard animals. 

"I will! I will!" they called as they raced past Clarence.

The little red hen threw her beak proudly into the air and yelled "no, you won't! I will do it myself!" And stalked back inside the henhouse.

Clarence sleepily turned back around and laid back down next to Miss Florine. "What was that about?" Asked Miss Florine. "Do you know what she wanted?"

"Not I," said the cat.

138. Being Mom

Being Mom is getting kissed.

Being Mom is the appointment I missed.

Being Mom is hugs and high fives.

Being Mom is peanut butter hives.

Being Mom is tucking her in.

Being Mom is letting him win.

Being Mom is painted nails.

Being Mom is cooking fails.

Being Mom is beating the nightmares.

Being Mom is conquering the snarled hairs.

Being Mom is running late.

Being Mom is wondering what he hate.

Being Mom is coughs and colds.

Being Mom is being bold.

Being Mom is paint in the rug.

Being Mom is giving a hug.

Being Mom is protecting from the storm.

Being Mom is keeping her warm.

Being Mom is what I do.

Being Mom is loving you.

137. Protected From The Storm

A building with a steeple tall

Protective door and sturdy wall

Shields us from the storm outside

While we safely here abide.

The lightning and the thunder crash.

The air is hot with heat and ash.

But safe inside these walls we wait

Until the rain and sleet abate.

These sacred was protect us when

We welcome our dear Savior in

And he will guide us with His arm

Around us through the raging storm.

136. Slippery.

Babies are like rats and snakes

They get out of the traps you make.

They slither and they slide around

They crawl and writhe upon the ground.

Try the block their way way and see

Just how slipp'ry they can be.

Try to stop them, if you dare.

You'll get beaten, fair and square.

135. Names

An exploration in naming through the last 50 years. 

Todd. Deborah.

Stephen. Pamela.

Gary. Donna.

Matthew. Amy.

Todd. Kelly.

Todd. Julie.

Todd. Karen.

Shawn. Heather.

Shawn. Julie.

Kenneth. Julie.

Andrew. Elizabeth.

Andrew. Christina.

Paul. Rebecca.

Jonathan. Lisa.

Justin. Kelly.

Charles. Kimberly.

Steven. Angela.

Steven. Rebecca.

Jeremy. Heather.

Jeffrey. Amy.

Jeffrey. Crystal.

Richard. Christina.

Jeremy. Melissa.

Adam. Megan.

Jacob. Megan.

Timothy. Nicole.

Alexander. Emily.

Thomas. Kayla.

Dylan. Lauren.

Jordan. Lauren.

Aaron. Kayla.

Christian. Rachel.

Thomas. Megan.

Kevin. Kayla.

Samuel. Kayla.

Kyle. Lauren.

Samuel. Alyssa.

Noah. Taylor.

Nathan. Alyssa.

Logan. Sarah.

Jose. Sarah.

Gabriel. Sophia.

Gabriel. Ashley.

Gabriel. Samantha.

Tyler. Addison.

Tyler Addison.

Jonathan. Elizabeth.

Nathan. Ella.

John. Ella.

Dylan. Sofia.

Luke. Sofia.

134. Guilty Pleasure

I've never really understood the term "guilty pleasure." I mean, I know what it means, but I've never really felt guilty about finding pleasure in something. They are opposite feelings. So I watched a dumb tv show? If I enjoyed it, why should I feel badly about that? So I ate three brownies after dinner? Why ruin that with guilt?

But now I get it.

I stopped nursing my son about two months ago for medical reasons. Though it was a good decision for us, I miss the cuddles that nursing brought. Thomas is a very active boy, which of course means that he doesn't like to sit still. Even when he's taking a bottle, unless he is dead tired, he'll be up and down and trying to crawl away, dragging the bottle with him. 

Fast forward to this week. My kids spent five days with my parents while my husband and I went on a cruise. It was my first time away from Thomas for any length of time. Since coming home, he hasn't quite forgiven me for leaving him. He's been ornery and needy and hasn't slept well. 

At about midnight last night he woke up and screamed and screamed and screamed. I finally went in to calm him (husband may have nudged me out of bed a bit) and he immediately reached for me to pick him up. 

Now, back before he slept through the night, Thomas would only go back down by nursing. I had tried just holding him, but he wouldn't have it. So I was a little nervous about what would happen here. 

I picked him up and he immediately threw his arms around my neck (a very recent development) and laid his horas on my should. He just sat there and hugged me for a few minutes. Here began my understanding of guilty pleasure. I have so missed the cuddles from him that I had a momentary gladness for his unhappiness. And then I felt guilty. But I was still a little bit glad. After a few minutes I sat down in the rocking chair and shifted Thomas so he was lying in my arms. As I rocked, he curled up and fell asleep, a lock of my hair clutched in his little fist. 

I sat there much longer than I needed to, because I was enjoying it so much. But I was also feeling that guilt again. I was wishing this could go on and on forever. I know that he will eventually forgive me and when that happens he won't want my hugs and cuddles anymore. So for the time being I will take advantage of my poor baby's fears and tears and guiltily enjoy this sorrowful pleasure.

133. The Stepmother - Turned Out

She should be thanking me for giving her such an opportunity. Time alone with the prince! There when she fainted. Visiting her every day to see how she recovers! I couldn't have planned it better. And how does she repay me? No gratitude. No thanks. No acknowledgement of my cunning. What an ungrateful brat I raised. How could she go so wrong? 

It must be that girl. Filling her head with useless stories and rot. If only I had turned her out of the house as soon as her father was gone. He outsmarted me there. I will never forgive him for it.

And now my own child turns me away as if everything I do isn't for her benefit. She'll never get ahead without my help. So be it. If she won't accept my help, she won't get it. Let her catch a marriage on her own. She'll have nothing from me. 

At least I still have one grateful child left. And I will see her lifted to the grandest heights. Let Cinderella have her cottage. We shall live in a palace.

132. Paper Airplanes

Paper airplanes in the sky

Flying far and flying high

Flying left and flying right

Through the day and through the night.

Though you think they're just for nerds,

People come to watch in herds.

Not a sport but even so,

How far can you make yours go?

131. Betrayed

Thomas and Jane spent the last five days with my parents while my husband and I went on a cruise. This was my first time apart from Thomas for longer than he sleeps at night in the nearly one year that he's been alive. 

My boy is a mama's boy through and through. He cries for anyone but me, my husband, and one friend. If I leave the room while he is with someone else, he melts down. Jane was nothing like this. From day one she has been happy with any and every person we have ever left her with.

Knowing the personalities of my children, what I expected when we picked them up today was squeals of delight from Thomas and happiness, but not really much more than usual, from Jane.

That didn't happen.

We walked into the room and Jane shot her little head into my knees. She sang "mommy" over and over again and jumped up and down while attempting to strangle me with her hugs. 

Thomas willingly was passed into the arms of his dad, and there he stayed. He wouldn't even look at me. I took him from my husband and he immediately started crying and reachng for his grandma.

A heart was never so quickly thrilled and subsequently demolished.

130. Money Changers

A few days ago my husband and I were in New Orleans. We had a few hours to kill so we decided to walk around for a bit and see what the city had to offer. As we wandered, we came across a large park. Down the side of the park were several painters selling their work. We were interested so we followed the path of artists and our walkway opened to a large open courtyard. At one side of the courtyard was the far end of the park we had followed. Just across from it stood a Cathedral. Though I am not Catholic, I truly appreciate the beauty and artistry that goes into these wonderful buildings. 

My first reaction as we stepped out into the courtyard was awe and excitement. It didn't take me long, though, to be distracted from this glorious tribute to God. Filling the courtyard were several types of street vendors loudly hawking their wares. There were usual trinket merchants that accompany many tourist attractions, but what really caught my attention was the street magicians and fortune tellers.

Now, I know that New Orleans is known for its connection with magic. And I'm not the type of person who is bothered by magic generally. I'm a huge Harry Potter fan. I enjoy watching stage magic. I like "The Princess and the Frog." But this was different.

What appalled me so much about these people was that they sat there on the steps of this holy building, this place dedicated to the powers of God, and tried to sell me this power. They dared take something sacred and twist and mar it for their own profit. And they did it right there. They chose that spot because it was well-traveled. They chose it because the people who visit a Cathedral believe in the power of God and the miracles it can perform. And they act as if they can use that power and provide those miracles.

I was sickened as I walked past them but as I entered and the doors of the cathedral closed behind me, the sounds of the vendors were cut off and peace surrounded us. We spent several minutes in the quiet reverence of the cathedral, listening to the hymns of devotion, looking at the beautiful artwork, and just taking in the peace and harmony that comes from worshipping in a sanctuary dedicated to God. By the time we left I had almost forgotten the chaos that waited outside the doors. I

 was so happily wrapped in the peaceful spirit of the sanctuary that opening the doors again felt like a physical blow. My peaceful moment was ruined in an instant and I felt immediately that I finally understood what the Savior must have felt when he came to the Holy Temple and found the money changers selling their goods for a profit. I can understand why he threw them out and overturned their tables. I can understand his anger. Because I was angry and I wanted to do the same. I wanted to run at the fortune tellers and the magicians and cry at them to leave the holy place. I wanted to send the vendors from the spot and wash the courtyard clean of the stink of their wares and their smoke and their drinking. I wanted to cry for the desecration and destruction of what must once have been a truly wondrous entrance to and exit from this lovely, spiritual place. 

I know that this is not what should be expected when visiting a church of God, but I also know that this is not a unique situation. I can only look forward to the day when the Savior comes again and this tragedy becomes no more.

129. Voyage

When all you see is vast and blue

There's nothing else for you to do

But stare and stare and state and stare

And wonder when you will get there.

You hope the stars will be your guide

When you sail the ocean wide.

The hea'nly compass leads the way

With moon at night and sun at day.

The freedom of the sea is clear

But with the freedom so comes fear

For there's no rescue there for you

If you should fail or lose your crew.

Some day again, it's journey's end,

You see the land. Your ailments mend.

A new life greets you when you land.

America: Let Freedom Stand.

128. Earth

If we were not native to Earth, would we settle here? Would we risk our lives and our children in a world with such varied and intense weather? Would we choose to live in the scorching desert of the Sahara or the bitter frost of Russia? Or would we simply write of Earth as uninhabitable? The sun burns too close. It creates cancer and changes the color of our skin. The ocean is water undrinkable. Tornados are too violent. Hurricanes and earthquakes are too destructive. The arctic is too cold. The deserts are too hot. Would we choose this planet as our home? 

127. Cruising

I hear a baby crying.

It isn't mine today.

I hear a toddler whining.

It isn't mine today.

I hear a crash of dishes.

It isn't mine today.

I feel the bed beneath me.

It isn't mine today.

126. Cairos

The mother came to my home on the seventh day to fetch little Denise. Seven days and she sent no word, no messenger, no concern. She knew her child was ill. Ella sent word after her collapse. Three days later when her mother had still not come, we moved Denise to my home where my wife and I could better care for her. 

Then on the seventh day, she simply came and expected her daughter to go home with her. Jenny refused her entrance at first, but it is not our place to keep a child from her mother. She came in with all her bustling fabrics and clinking jewels and demanded to see her daughter. I led her through to where Denise lay, still weak from her ordeal. I expected joy or excitement and maybe a little anger. 

There was nothing. 

Denise said nothing to her mother. Not a word. Not a glance. She just looked out the window, unmoving. The mother yelled. She screamed. She coaxed. She bribed. But Denise said nothing. The mother stayed less than an hour and then she was gone. And she never came back.

125. Tummy Trouble

Tummy trouble

Underneath

Makes me feel

Sick and weak

124. "Don't Drop Her"

My little brother, Josh, has never been great with babies. He wasn't even two when Steeny was born, and she was the last child. He had no real experience. Jane was a novelty to him. The first grandchild of our parents. The first real baby he'd ever been allowed to hold. 

That didn't stop his confidence, though. He threw her up over his shoulder and she gave a little three-month-old laugh. Steeny, mom, and I watched, enjoying the interaction. I wanted Jane to have an early memory with her uncle, so I took a video of the two of them playing together. 

Josh flipped her and spun a bit, putting on his "I'm the coolest dude" face. He was macho.

And then Jane drooled.

Teenage boys don't do well with drool. He shrieked a little and pulled Jane off his shoulder, trying to get away from the string of baby saliva. 

Amused at his concern (I had grown immune to the grossness that is drool) I jokingly told him not to drop her.

It wasn't even three seconds later that he did.

Lucky for Jane she was only a few inches off the ground when she twisted out of Josh's hands. 

Unluckily for Josh, we caught the whole thing on camera. It's been three years and he still won't hold another baby.

123. Righteous Immigration

Adam took his wife and left his Eden home.

Abraham left his father's house and struck out on his own. 

Moses left a kingdom for a promised land divine.

Lehi took his family from Jerusalem in time.

Alma left the courts of Noah to establish a city of right.

Brigham Young took the early Saints to settle with work and might.

Our reach into the Solar System grows longer every day.

If you are called to start anew, will you follow the way?

122. Saturday

Why is Saturday the best?

You can rest and rest and rest.

You can run and work and play.

You can swim on Saturday.

You can shop or build or clean.

You can do most anything.

For Saturday is when you can

Do what you want. Do it, man!

121. Who Can You Be?

Can you fly like a bird

With your wings and a tail?

Can you glide like a boat 

with your rudder and sail?

Can you swim in the sea

Like a fish or a whale?

Can you gleam in the sun 

Like gold hay in a bale?

Just be who you are

And you cannot fail.