grain

I learned from stones I stepped upon

Death does not a life erase

Some memories never multiply-

But knew ones leave their trace

If by chance in reading this

And still can't comprehend-

Take this thing for granted,

In faith-my road did bend

I could not move the mountains

Standing fast within my way

No more could I just shadow sit-

Wrestling rocks for light of day

In keeping time, the sad song-

Played well it's brutal part

For every beat I could not miss

Though half restored my heart...

As blood and bonds break free-the veil

Exchanging everything I know...

For eagles, though they rise on high

Begin with sparrow wings below...

And so it is my friends, and so it goes. If not for pain and sorrow, I would not wonder at all. I'd accept it all as it is and be forever neutralized by it. Oh, that would be the greatest sorrow ever-to blend, to gray-never to color or be colored. Many times I have been asked how I came up with my "calling" name-truewonder. I can say it now, tell it without hesitation.
After my Beau left this place, flew off like an eagle to a higher perch...I fell apart. Every piece of me shattered. I tried my level best to put me and my children back together.
 I could not.
There is no glue, no industrial strength epoxy that can mend a tattered soul.
So I wrote a letter to God.
(I had understood, all my life-that He was to look out for me, I prayed every day to Him. Sweetly I prayed, always fearful that I might say the wrong thing. I was more afraid of God (and that may not even be his name, I refer to him these days as The Big Weirdo) than I was hopeful of him. So-was it I who was so insincere? Were my prayers then in fact half truths? Yes. If one approaches anything or anyone out of fear-there is little sincerity there, only love is truly sincere- is real. So the letter I wrote God-the being who I had put all my trust into, my insincere prayers to-every night, without fail-I use to pray, to beg...

"Watch over my children, keep them safe, I pray they will always know how much they are loved. Amen."

I even made bargains with God - as I had one son off to war and one son in and out of a hospital-"please,please,please-do not test my faith, I cannot survive if I lose one, please I beg of you, do not test me on this. I'll be good as good can be." With fear, I prayed.)

In love, in bottomless anger, in total sincerity-my letter:

My god, my god, what have you done? How do I live? How dare I live? My Beau, my Beau is gone...I cannot go on. How do I go on??? Cannot do this. Why?????????????? God damn me to this hell and heaven is the same,


it is a true wonder I breathe at all.

That letter is shortened above...I screamed obscenities, I called names, I came undone-in words.
Haven't we all wondered, in our Sunday lessons-that even such thoughts, let alone words screamed out loud, written down... wouldn't we be struck dead??! After writing that, I was struck alive. For the first time in my life-I was sincere. I wanted to be struck dead, I wasn't fearful of hell, I was standing already so near for sure, no suicide for me- I put the barrel to my head with such blasphemy, I dared the God to bring me to a certain end. Instead- beginnings, right then. I did not get up and do a jig, understand- I merely crawled away. But the fire in my belly, the smallest of flames I can tell you-it grew a little brighter, for I could see it in my eyes- in my reflection. And those words, those god awful words-were the kindling.
I have been decent to folks all my life, and many have returned nothing but indecency, cruelty to me. And that's not OK by any margin, but it is what it is-I will still be decent, kind-period. Because I was made to be a true wonder, as are you. And we all have so much to learn and teach...but the kindling, the love-has to be sincere, from somewhere deep within or beyond- somehow the lessons need to be shared. Have to be shared, or what else is there? Fear. Doubt. Half truths. Hate. If that is your aim, your game-I'd just as soon you keep it to yourself. The world needs light. The world needs love, all you have-give it. In words, in song, in hugs, in gratitude-give it. The truest wonder of that giving-oh my!- the harvest you'll reap from that sowing-boundless.
Too many words today, I know. But all my life, I thought I was merely just here to get through life, to bear living. This day finds me overflowing, I can no more hold back the goodness than I can hold back the Mississippi. A mighty flood has sprung from this truewonder-over and out of my banks for sure.
Take care-