Rooted Hearts

  Yesterday, as is my practice each time I drive home from UIC, I stopped at the Maywood McDonalds to get a Diet Coke for the road. As I pulled into the parking lot, I spotted an elderly man. He was diminutive in stature and holding a sign that read; Please Help. Homeless. God Bless. I knew right then and there I would add to my order and buy him a bag of food. As I pulled around, I signaled for him to come over, so that I could hand it to him. It was hot and fresh, and smelled delicious. I was certainly excited to place it in his hands. As he approached me, I felt a nagging that I had to do more. But what? I didn't want to hand him cash, I really had nothing else. And then a voice inside of me grew louder, Give him your blanket. My blanket? How odd. Next to me in my tote was the blanket my dear high school friends had given me when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was adorned with pink ribbons, and probably one of the softest blankets I have ever had. I carried it ...

  Alone in the place which I dwell. My eyes give light to all around me, I dwell alone.  The trees of golden hue Grass that carpets miles and miles of beauty, boats floating aimlessly in the sea, Until the horizon swallows them from sight. Boughs of clouds dancing to their fancy, words come softly and crafted.  Angels sing a glory song and I recuse.  I'm not ready I beg, there's so very much to do, Joy to appreciate, love to impart. Beauty to embrace, footsteps to follow. Warm wind swirled about me, caressing my heart. My soul came alive,  leading me to a new day. I will carry that glory song, always listening, always thankful.