I love you

When was the last time you heard these words?  Perhaps it's been a little while since you've read them. 
I love you.

I love you because you are wonderful in every way.

Love and Good News

“If you hear a voice within you say ‘you cannot paint,’ then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.” ~Vincent Van Gogh

I hear a voice in my head, a voice which sounds like my voice. Who knows if it really comes from me?  There was once a homeless man who turned his life around by listening to that voice.  He believed the voice was God telling him everything.  He wrote a book and went on a tour, homeless no more.

Sometimes I listen to the voice just in case it might be divine inspiration. Yet, sometimes, like Van Gogh, I would like the voice to be quiet.   The voice is not usually telling me that I cannot do something, but rather that I must do too much.  The voice sends out a list like a train running by; fragments like boxcars clattering one after another.  It's a familiar sound.

Clickity clak, dog, dishes, laundry, vacuum, school lessons, get back to work, you are avoiding something important, feed the cat, more dishes, meal prep, clean up, sweep, omg the bathroom, ANTS!, laundry, exercise??? Huh? when will I get to do that alone? gosh the dust creeps back so fast, WEEDS! gosh the neighbors are going to hate me for all those dandelion seeds that drift in their yard, mow the lawn, geez when was the last time that boy washed his hair, fingernails? dinner, oh no! I forgot to take the meat out of the freezer.  dang it all, when can I have my dishwasher back, it's been almost a year and I am tired of the piles that accumulate all over, note to self, be kind when asking once again to get the thing fixed, whoops I wasn't very kind....



Then occasionally, when I am at peace an inspired, calm thought will drift in.  Sometimes these are insights or ideas that could only come from somewhere else.  Like the title of this post.  Love and Good News.


It's what the world needs more of.   It's what we're all surrounded in if we choose to see it.  It's what we can contribute to ourselves, our families, communities and the world.   If anyone were to ask what I write about, I want the answer to be love and good news.

Gems from the family photo archives

This is why we have to buy lots of socks!

Feeling snarly

Uncle Ken and  Elliot are inseparable

Emily...I miss her so much

My Valentine

I have a secret.  Well, it's not really a secret, but when writing about love, it feels as though I am revealing something hidden.  I didn't plan for this blog to be about so many different aspects of my life.  It was supposed to be about growing a business from scratch.  But as you can see, it is a sapling that will take years to bear fruit.
So, in the mean time, I might as well write about love.  Valentine's day has always been one of my favorite holidays.
Actually, that is a lie.
When I was a child it was one of my favorite holidays.  I loved eating chocolates and cupcakes with pink frosting.  I loved exchanging valentine cards at school.  It was my Grandma's birthday and every year we would eat a heart shaped cake to celebrate.
Valentine's day smelled like heavenly confections and was the perfect day for girls who love pink, purple or red construction paper hearts trimmed in lace doilies.
Then, the teen years hit and I felt exactly like Charlie Brown.
Luckily, it was still my Grandma's birthday so there was cake.  Cake and ice cream to numb the stark reality that romance was a figment of my imagination; a largely one sided affair.
Fast forward to my early thirties.
I am a newly single mom working at an apartment community.  My morning task is to collect cigarette butts and fast food bags from the parking lot. I weigh, at that time, 97 lbs.  (I had no idea how to obtain food stamps).   I dream of one day writing a book or opening my own garden center.  I plan to go back to college and finish my degree.  I start to hear my own thoughts in my head again.  It's a beautiful awakening.  I vow never to let any man share my room or my life again.  But while I'm picking the trash and putting it in the plastic blue bucket, some guy sitting in his car sees me.  He hears a voice inside his head that says,

"there goes your wife"


He shakes his head and thinks, "that was weird" and goes back to his morning routine.

Richard and Emily make sure I don't take life too seriously.

He's thoughtful and compassionate.  And I love those lips.

He's a teacher and a guide, his son's best friend and hero.

When I'm old, his hand is the one I want to be holding.

When we finally meet formally and have a first date, I have an experience that feels like I have jumped into an ocean full of interesting thoughts and beautifully expressed emotions.  After a month, I begin to feel God's love for me again.  After a year, I become a mom again.  After five years, we get married.  He supports me through college.  He loves my daughter.  He shines as a father to his son.  We travel.  We talk.  He believes in me.  He is the silent partner who's not exactly silent.  I'm so glad that he's vocal and expressive.  When I have a knot to untangle, he helps me work it out.  He's brilliant and handsome and affectionate.  And now, because I am aware of how a happy story can make the reader feel...I will stop there.  He knows how I feel about him.
I hope your Valentine's day is full of love, or at least cake and ice cream.