How to Choose the Perfect Baby Memory Book - wikiHow

How to Choose the Perfect Baby Memory Book - wikiHow

Bread Crumbs

We all have times in our lives when we feel lost. I love the song by Cold Play, “Lost?”  He thinks of all kinds of reasons to justify why he isn’t, what he seems to be… alone, or lost… or hurt. Isn’t that what we all do?  I remember one thing I heard years ago– “You can’t separate yourself, and who you are… from what you do.”  So so true.  Although wouldn’t we love so, to DO things one way… but BE, something else… entirely.
We all have moments, or hours or days… some of us months and years… of losing sight of who we are, and what’s important. I was myself in a place of some confusion about my life… not long ago. And it led me to a place I have never been, and hope to never go again.  I found myself in this place, eternally… because I had absolutely no desire to leave it, at all. I didn’t want to feel hopeless, and yet there I sat… hopeless; and can I just tell you how hopelessness is without a doubt one of the worst feelings in the world?  I could look at myself, and know it wasn’t right… but I couldn’t help myself, and I had friends that would do anything for me… but I would reject them and dismiss their concerns.  I can remember moments when I would feel a glimmer of emotion, which I hadn’t shown in months. It felt good… and reminded me that I was human, and I still did care.  I described these moments as bread crumbs… tiny little fragments of hope, that can lead the lost… home.
Although I was raised in church, and am a poet and inspirational writer– and have always been faithful, and often heard the voice of God and certainly seen His hand in my life… my rebellious nature didn’t seem to befit the style of “church home” I found when we moved here a few years ago.  That’s a story for another day… let’s just say we hadn’t been to church, in a long LONG time…  And then, we went.  I was taken somewhat by force (not really)… not physically anyway…  but let’s just say, I didn’t really want to go.  So what happened?  Well of course… the sermon… was written for me
“There is no place you can go, and hide from God…”  and if THAT wasn’t enough… he went on to say … “and that’s a good thing!”   I thought of where I was at that moment, and where I had been… and for the first time in a long time… I probably gave ample thought, to where I was going.  And so I reflected for a moment, on the idea of bread crumbs…
We hide from God, unconsciously… out of depression, confusion…shame…
I began to wonder why I myself, had hidden from God– and why my heart had become so very hardened and calloused to those who love me the most, including Him.  Out of anger, I left God. Out of confusion I ran from God– out of depression, I hid from God.
And one day, I plucked a bread crumb from the ground– the tiniest morsel… nothing really, maybe a smile, or a few words of familiar reason or wisdom… that represented to me, a place in my life, or a conviction in my mind… that I once knew.
And as I crept out of hiding to procure the next potential proverbial crumb, I saw the sun peek through the darkness, and I felt for just one brief moment… the sun. I felt the warmth of that light– and I went back.  But there was a day when I came out for that crumb… and I stayed… a little longer, in the company and fellowship… of a dear friend who had known me my whole life.  And with the look, and a few simple words… she broke me, my harsh spirit and calloused heart…
And so it was, with only a bread crumb, I was saved from darkness– this time.
And the thought occurred to me now, how many times I might have seen a friend headed somewhere, and not recognized he was headed to a dark place. I wondered if ever I had been a bread crumb– and then I shutter at the thought I had once the chance to be… and didn’t lend myself to that cause.
I didn’t know it– but all that time, I truly was in hiding from the Lord. And it took the smallest thing–to bring pieces of me back. But so very many crumbs were dropped before me, and rejected…
I imagine if that friend had given up on me–and that one day, she’d have grown weary of my struggle, and not have been there…
I stand here before you, in the light…
Happy, forgiven restored… and grateful.
Thank you God, for the littlest things in life that we too often take for granted… and bless the bread crumbs, that to the naked eye are nothing more than harmless morsels of… something, anything, nothing–
They lead us home.

This is Love

Paint me a picture my love,
of love, and life... and hope

So that I might look at it,
and remember all that is right with the world
in my mind's eye
as we sleep

Paint me a picture...

of a moonlit sky and a long long stretch of beach...
with soggy sand paving a serene pathway,
to nowhere

Let there be stars...
the kind that fill the sky as far as the eye can see...
and a soft spot to lie beneath them,
with silence and still breath

A sunrise, fresh at the break of day,
with the dark cloak of night still slipping away
and upon the horizon, mountain peaks
to fill my eyes with suspense,
for the coming light
as not to see it, just any moment too early
I want to know it's coming... and wait

A spot nearest a humble little pond
that takes my breath
glassy, and glistening with a kiss from the morning sun...
warm, on my back... as I write,
and the day begins anew

A thunderous rainstorm.
and a dry place to watch,
and listen to the power of nature
and then...the glorious smell of spring, and new life
once the clouds have passed

The warmth of a fire,
and the glow of the flame
to warm our faces on a cold, quiet night--
the crackle of smoldering wood as the blaze takes it's last and final bow
in the otherwise still, eerie silence of the great outdoors

A trail of wildflowers,
a forest thick with the tallest trees in the world
that remind me, I am small... and insignificant, and humbled,
as I breath deep
an air that's fresh, and fragrant, and green

A choir, of children
their faces all aglow,
exuding a sense of hope, and a quiet power
a reverence for all that is good and pure in the world
and sinks my heart, with humility, and peace
sung in any language on earth

A valiant friend, who defends my honor
if he even on this day, is the last to stand,
in my name,
out of respect
to remind me that all I need, is one.

A fall afternoon,
a brisk, cool day
leaves that drift aimlessly to the ground
and the sound of them crunching beneath our feet
as we walk, slowly, to...
no place in particular, at all

A road not too long... between us
to see you, every day,
but long enough to miss you as I leave,
and on the way...
so that you look at me each time... and truly see me,
as if you grew hungry for my sight

A letter, of words... from your heart
that I can read again, and again
and savor in my soul as I would the last drink,
of water... that would ever touch my lips

This is love.
This is love, and life and hope...
to me.

Can you paint this, for me... my love?
And I shall look at it each day...
When I feel that my cup is full, and runneth over... with blessings,
or empty, and sad... that I have used the very last drop
to live.

I will see it,
and remember all that is right with the world.
I will not feel fragile,
but filled up... with the gravity of your presence
and the fullness of your love.

I imagine it now,
and I love it so...
I have cleared just the spot for such a painting...
in my soul.

"Sing to me beautiful, crazy world...the song of hope"

Here I sit perched high atop the world, in my thoughts. The water flows, the trees sway, and the clouds drift... aimlessly amid the heavens, as I await... what, I wonder-- might be the next great thing. For so many now, of my life's greats, seem dwarfed by the realization of my heart's fate. I have lived, and loved and lost-- And the greatest of these, sadly is what I have lost-- time, life, experiences, hopes, dreams, awakenings, inspiration, meaning... MEANING--the meaning of love, and life, and hope.

The dark cloak of ignorance has been ripped from my eyes, and the naive cloud of acceptance which once stood solid and rigid, has become dust that settles about me, where I exist in disbelief of my new found knowledge. I watch the cars drive below, and a man on a bike, as we take our breakfast on a tiny balcony in the sky on this, my new day--a dawning of destiny. A beautiful sunny morning, with just a bit of haze and a light breeze accompany my palette, as my life paints a vivid dream of what can now be... and my eyes well with tears as fate whispers to my ears-- "it has begun"--purpose, life... MY life...my soul fills with awe.

"I am sorry" I spoke in silence to my heart--that I had for so long believed in a piece of a thoughtful promise, and in the world--that failed me as the betrayal of a dear friend.
"Whisper!" I said to the song in my soul that grew louder and louder, as I felt a moment of passing guilt, for finding solace in my joy, while my discovery has and continues to cause others much grief.

I have left my life, my security, the version of happiness that I knew, and found favor with--and traded for judgment by those who loved me and those whom I loved, uncertainty, unfamiliarity... and abandoned reason for passion...

For the first time in my life, I struggle for certainty of life, but not love...
For the first time in my life, I truly worry about necessity, but not desire...
For the first time in my life, I KNOW LESS... than I do NOT KNOW...
and I have never been more sure, of anything in the world.

There are moments I hear the voice of reason and ponder the thought, if innocence although ignorance, wasn't a better option-- a life of being taken care of--in a place where things made sense. But I chose so late, a life of being cared for, and an age of uncertainty-- but with one important factor-- There would be only one certainty, but it would be that of MY choosing: that I would be free.

So sings my soul--the song of freedom. The joy and liberation of being me, is fresh on my lips and dripping from the places in my life now, where I have been and continue to choose to be. With my hands I touch the things that belong truly to me--that I care for and love. With my arms I hold them close, as if the very last memory of my life, being stolen from thought.

Sing to me, beautiful, crazy world-- the song of hope... that I do not know the future, but I do know my hopes for it, and the reality that I myself cling to each day the option of embracing or rejecting... anything I choose. So plays the song, of love and life and hope.
Play on, louder and louder... sweet, beautiful melody...
as I listen, and we dance.

Thanksgiving

I am not sure what made me grow to love Thanksgiving as I do now-- I recall a time when what we had planned for this holiday wasn't much of a concern to me at all. When we lived in Texas (prior to moving to Alexandria, VA) we spent most holidays with my family (from Texas). November never really looked much like fall in Dallas, Texas... to me. In fact, I can't say as I really knew what fall looked like at all, up close. When we moved to Virginia, I remember calling a friend to say "listen to this!" as I stepped through mounds of crispy fall leaves on the ground. It was so ...fall! Of course my friends there thought I was crazy, but truly I had never experienced such a thing. It was absolutely beautiful. And the crisp air would lead to trees of fire, as the leaves turned from green to orange and deep shades of red before they let go, and twirled through the air gracefully to the ground. It led me to actually spend some time thinking of fall. We planted mums, and bought cute scarecrows and everyone was talking of Thanksgiving. In Texas, when the air grew crisp... it was Christmas! This was a whole new concept for us Virginians. Todd's family usually drove down from Frankenmuth, Michigan--and his mother loved to take a drive and see the fall colors. We always had a nice time, but I can't say that my tiny townhouse kitchen ever really inspired me to whip up a turkey dinner... and it just seemed we needed more people, to be festive. (I watched too much Brady Bunch as a kid, I know.) Whatever it was, I don't know... but as I told Todd when he tried to sway me from cooking a turkey this year-- we had eaten turkey dinner in a box from the grocery store, for 5 years. Well, except for the year we went to Cracker Barrell. Now back in Texas with my family close, we had invited my dad's whole side of the family (about 23 people) all to our house for Thanksgiving. I was planning to cook, and looking forward to it, in fact. I bought Martha Stewart's new dvd I think called "Traditional Thanksgiving". I highly recommend it. I totally learned how to prepare and cook my Thanksgiving dinner, all from that dvd. Anyway-- I was in my element... decorating the tables, cooking... the whole works. And then the people started pouring in. We all love turkey and dressing... my personal favorite. But as the day went on, I realized that I was as hungry for the sounds of voices in a house full of people I loved... as I was for a Thanksgiving dinner I really hadn't had in almost 8 years, the last time we were all together. We talked and laughed, and played games... and my "little" cousin Berkley (now probably 30) played the guitar for us while we drank wine, and our little girls (5-8 years old) danced. I realized as I looked into my 80 year-old grandmother's eyes, while she directed the bread content in my stuffing... that what I was hungry for... was family. I closed my eyes on that day in a quiet moment... and thanked God for bringing all of us physically to the place where we had spent so many years in our hearts ... together.
Happy Thanksgiving :)

American Girl

I am sure it is living in Washington, DC that did it for my daughter...gave her the love for country that she has, I mean. Maybe it was experiencing September 11, 2001(AKA 9-11) and her 4th birthday. We thought the sky was falling. It was... aweful. It is tearful still, to remember it now. But I recall standing on the deck at the back of our townhouse, and seeing the F-14 fighter jets race across the sky. They were an absolutely frightening sight, and sound... powerful, and humbling. But also... as the fear set in, and life resumed in our "new normal" of high alert status in and around the District, we grew to love the sounds of our Airforce jets. They became a calming, and peaceful consolation, to the heavy hearts of our people. We knew someone was out there, taking care of us. And what a fantastic display of force, and pride... and the noise... well the noise of these mighty machines affixing a lid to the top of our beautiful city, was constant, and loud. Especially when you consider that all other commercial air traffic was suspended indefinitely. We heard them all throughout the day, and night. Grace and I would point to them in the sky, and with great pride welling up in both of us for this amazing country we are SO blessed to live in... we would talk about our soldiers, and their job to defend us. We felt safe... well, as safe as we could.

Or, maybe it was living just miles from the National Mall, and monuments of our past wars. Maybe it was walking through the Korean Conflit Memorial, and looking into the stone faces of the soldiers on the front lines... and in a whisper, talking of how scared they must have been, and yet they perservered... and of course there was finally and long overdue, the World War II Memorial. Maybe it was seeing vetrans beckoned to this beautiful belated thank you card from our nation... and kneeling before the fountains, they would cry. Maybe this...
It could have been trips to the White House...
Or maybe even the CIA...where thousands work every day to keep us safe--and give up their own identities in the process, for nothing other than a love for country...
But for some reason, my daughter loves America... more than most children her age.
I was at her school this week to volunteer in the classroom. The kids during lunch started a little "raise your hand if you..." game. They are all sweet kids, and they were talking nice and quiet, and asking silly questions like "raise your had if you like vegetables..." Until, one little boy said, "raise your hand if you hate America." MY HEART SANK. Well, if you knew me... you'd all be taking a deep gasp of air right now... I decided to listen first. He went on to say that he loved England because something about he thought his family was British... yeah whatever. Anyway, another little girl whose family was originally from a different country chimed in with "I don't like America because I am really from somewhere else." I couldn't believe it. All in all 3 children out of 18, seemingly had no love or loyalty for their country at all. "What is possibly being said at home, by these parents?!" I said to myself, and to Lisa--another mom next to me who was equally as shocked as I, I think. In this moment, before I spoke to the children... I was sad. I was sad for my Uncle Hugh, a WW II veteran who passed away just months before the completion of the monument dedicated to his war. When I was little, if we were really good, (and begged enough) he would pull out a little box that contained all of his war memories. I will never forget it... It made me sad for even our founding fathers, who dreamed of a place their children could be, and be totally free--as we are. I imagine the dreams they must have had, before they made the long journey to begin anew. I think of Arlington, and remember walking through the silence... rows and rows of souls sacrificed... so that somebody's kid could think NOTHING of saying "boo America" in a 2nd grade classroom without recourse. Boo to YOU... I say to the parent who speaks of America at home in front of your children with ANYTHING but pride, and gratitude in your heart. Boo to YOU, for not instilling in YOUR child, the love for a country many work and risk their lives for every day, to secure the freedoms we so enjoy, and depend on... and take simply for granted.
You would absolutely never have heard these comments from children in Alexandria, VA, where we moved recently from. Texas is what I lovingly refer to as the "peace bubble." I love my home state, and I am so proud of this state (where I did spend my childhood and much of my adult life). But it is fact, that we here are far removed from much of the reality of life in our country. Everyone here for the most part is a willing participant in the conservative Bible belt that buckles up the south. You don't find many different cultures, and religions here-- and therefore we really don't have to work very hard to understand why we even believe the way we do. We are seldom if EVER tested on viewpoints--because everyone is just like you! (or they keep their mouths shut). Our nation's eyes are rarely on this part of the country, because we are predictable...always predictable. Am I complaining? No, not really... but I just feel that we are too sheltered from the world around us sometimes. I talk constantly about DC, and the trials living there brought us... because those trials led always to a deep awakening of something greater than ourselves. It led us to step outside of a comfortable spot, and imagine a different perspective. Of course it brought us back to who we were... and WHY we believed as we did. But the point is when we came back, we CELEBRATED who we are... and amazingly, APPRECIATED where another might be, as well.
To little Sarah, who said "I don't like America, because I am not from here..." I say that Sarah, you are here now. You ARE an American. We embrase you, and love you, BECAUSE you are not from here... and WANTED to be. Your parents here could be everything they ever dreamed of... they were both educated in American Universities, and are both doctors today! Yea America! I say! Because we will take you, and believe in your dreams... and you can be ANYTHING.
I wish I could take all of the children, and their parents to our Nation's beautiful capital. I wish I could show them everything I have seen. I wish I could take them to the places that have made Grace and me feel so humbled, and proud. I wish I could show each of them, what it really means to be an American...to me. I wish they could experience what we have...and know... what we know. I wish it meant more...
Grace's school had a Grandparents celebration in which they honored the veterans in the audience, etc. Each of the classes practiced and performed a special song for the event. Grace came home the day before and said, "Mommy, the 3rd grade was practicing America the Beautiful today... and it really touched my heart." (deep long sigh) I am so glad.
God bless America... and my little American girl.

Journey Through Time

We took our daughter trick-or-treating this year in our new neighborhood, in our new town, in our new state... with our new friends. (We have only 2 I think at this point). As we walked around from house to house and waited on the girls to reach each doorstep and dash to the next, I had that feeling in my soul that a profound moment was coming, in my heart.
I thought about last Halloween, 2004. We were at our little townhouse community in beautiful Alexandria, VA. And with a host of friends, and tons of kids, we strolled through the entire neighborhood, with a glass of red wine :) We were talking politics of course. Just moments away from the capital of this amazing country, and days from one of the most controversial elections in our history... just about everyone had an opinion and was willing to give it, if they hadn't until then. Earlier that day, my 3 best friends had run the Marine Marathon in downtown D.C. and I, not one to be much affected by peer pressure to join the insanity, arranged a little pep rally with the dads, and kids. Grace's best friend Emma made a card for her mom (my dearest friend, Paula) which read, " I love you mom... I hope you won." It still brings tears to my eyes... We miss Emma so much. She didn't understand that running a marathon, and finishing... WAS winning, for 3 average moms who one day over a cocktail on a girls weekend in Georgetown decided they wanted to do something great. I was so proud... I am STILL so proud.
My mind's eye took me back for some reason, on this journey through time...remembering where we were at, what we were doing...each year seemed like just mere days before this very moment. It led me to wonder if time would always travel so swiftly. I imagined one day, when Grace would be calling me, to tell me of trick-or-treating with HER daughter...like I phoned my mother that evening. And I realized that time...is cruel. I am afraid of few things... truly afraid...but one would be time. I know that memory is such a blessing, and I love thinking about the places we have been, and the people we have loved. But I am terrified of looking back one day, and finding my daughter is all grown up... and time has passed me by. I am so busy... and everyone I talk to every day is "so busy..." and sometimes when I find I am shewing away the people I love, so that I can finish "this one thing..." that leads always to ten more... when I snap out of it I grab my little Gracey, and I hold her in my arms. I hug her and kiss her, and sometimes I even still hold her. It becomes more awkward each time, as she grows taller and taller. I know pretty soon, her body won't fit between my shoulders and my waist...and that worse yet, someday she won't even want me to hold her any more... now THAT is sad.
I think in a way, that is why I am so passionate about my business. Because time is cruel...and we simply won't recall all of the moments that make us laugh, or smile...or cry. At the moment it is everything, but days quickly turn to weeks and months...and years. And suddenly the details are sketchy at best. Grace's little girl or boy will one day want to know that she was a "pretty witch" for Halloween this year, or that when she was 2 she cooked Winney the Pooh in her plastic frying pan (poor Winney), or that when she saw sunlight coming through the window, she would step on it, or jump over it...it was a fun game. Life moves so quickly. I suppose it takes a monumental occasion to make us stop and recall, that very moment in history... I did that tonight.
I realize of course, that I have lost the anti-sappy people by now, possibly some if not all :) But my thought is simply to slow down, and really take inventory on the things in life that really matter. I keep a couple of special things near my dressing table that I try to look at every so often. One of them is a card from my grandmother. It is addressed to my dorm room in college, and I saved the envelope. As I torture myself, and read the card... I imagine what I was doing in my life at that moment, when I received it initially. In the card, my precious Grandma Compton (who has since gone to be with the Lord) said to me "Tasha, I love you and think about you all the time. Some time, call me collect... when you have lots of time, and feel lonely." It is one of my greatest regrets... that I didn't call. I remember this, when I think of time... and the people I love. I realize that one's wealth should truly be measured by the people we have loved, and those who have loved us. I am reminded that life is too precious to muttle through being "busy" and detached emotionally from the only things that do truly matter.
I hope everyone who does celebrate Halloween had a wonderful time. And I hope your stroll around the neighborhood took you on a journey through time as it did me.
Happy Halloween ;)

Being Truly Happy

As many of you may know, Posey Park (and me and my family) have just undergone quite a major move across the country. I was raised in Texas, and as a Native Texan, I have always been proud of my home state. The people are nice, the stars are bright (it's not just a song, it's true!), and the air ... especially in Dallas where I consider my adult "home" ... the air just has a certain smell. I missed the smell of the air in Dallas when we moved from there 5 years ago, to Washington DC. I missed the muggy summers, and the look of the suburban homes there. I missed friends... some who had children, that were my daughter's dearest and first friends. I hated DC at first. It seemed that the people were rude, and rushed and unfriendly, and service at restaurants and even grocery stores was poor. Everything was expensive. But... there were trees, and the picturesque views of the history of our beautiful nation, close enough to touch. I love politics, and knew if I didn't make one friend during our stay in that area, at least I would enjoy the atmosphere of seeing the political machine in action. (Which I did.) Well, of course as time went by, fate was so kind as to allow us to make the most wonderful friends we will ever know in our lives. We lived steps from one another, in a townhouse community in Alexandria, VA, just miles from DC. 3 out of our 4 families were looking at transfers after a few years. We knew that our time together would not be forever... but it would most certainly be fun, and as we have now come to know... unforgettable. But in my quiet hour, in my inner most thoughts... Texas was still home. I just knew I wanted to go "home" at some point. 5 years later, we were given that opportunity, and seized it. Our friends moved within a few weeks of us... to opposite coasts. We were the first to go. It was hard to be the first. But, we were "home" in Texas... and this was going to feel like a long, deep sigh... I kept telling myself. But it never came. My heart beat so heavy since the day we moved into our new house... it wasn't home at all. I missed DC. I would see news coverage of the White House or the Supreme Court, and hold back tears. Silly... I know. But just the thought of that beautiful, magestic city... too far to drive to, made me really sad. I feel now, as I did before, when we moved there. I feel as though I didn't know how happy I really was, how good life really was there. We had wonderful friends (although they moved too)... I wonder how much time I wasted thinking of tomorrow... when "today" I had the dearest friends I would ever know, within walking distance. I am sickened by the thought that I spent a moment, not appreciating everything around me...but I know now that I did. I guess what I am saying, is that I learned something... something I have probably learned before now, but forgotten. Something... so valuable that it could spare heartache, bring joy, and cause one to live a fuller life... the concept of simply learning to recognize when we are truly happy. Sound simple? Try it today. Try living one day, without imagining yourself at a different place in life... or maybe wondering "what if..." you'd have done this or that, or moved there instead. Have you ever just sat really still in a quiet moment, and said to yourself... "I am truly happy."??? I think I had, and it lasted just about that... a moment. It is human nature to set goals, and unfortunately it is also human nature to set new ones before we get a chance to realize that we have reached the one before. I am a happy person, and I have always been quite philosophical about life in general... realizing that life is short, and always trying to appreciate every day. But like many, I think I always have my eye on the prize, and unfortunately it is always a few steps from where I stand. I know now that I loved DC, but moreso I love the "idea" of that time in my life. I will look back on that day, with fond memories, that I will never forget. But starting today, I am really going to try to see the moment I am living... instead of peering constantly over the horizon, to tomorrow. I heard once about a man who rode trains... he rode one to get to the other, and the next, and so on... constantly looking ahead to the next train stop. When he got to the end, he realized his trip was over... and in this particular scenario, the train ride was his life. He was so busy looking for the next stop, that he never enjoyed the ride. I don't know about you, but time moves too quickly as it is. I couldn't bear the thought of wasting years of my life or my little girl's... wishing I was at another place in time. I resolve today to enjoy this day, and this moment... and be thankful. I am truly... happy... today, right now... exactly where I am. May you be today... truly happy. And even better... may you know it. This may be the greatest and most ambitious hope... of all.