They Are My Rock

My balding friend with the mischievous grin
Could yank his head away or kiss my chin.
The lady who would make puzzles all day long
Might come in scowling or snapping with the song.
The lover with “Sweetheart” forever on her lips
Could instead pout in her chair with hands on hips.
The artist who teases me and pokes at my side
Might ignore me, or mumble and grumble, or cry.
The schoolboy who loves to scheme, hide, and chase
Could raise a fist or slam a door in my face.
The giggler who picks flowers whenever they appear
Sometimes calls me a name my ears cringe to hear.
Moody and unpredictable as these friends may be,
They steady my world, like roots on a tree.
They are my rock, the foundation of my world.
As with spring petals, these friendships have unfurled,
Revealing to me a love deep and wide
These rocks keep me on land, regardless of the tide.

For Kyle and Heather

For Kyle, my big bro: "A different world cannot be built by indifferent people." –Horace Mann

For Heather: “A joyful spirit is evidence of a grateful heart.” – Maya Angelou

Faith.

I have faith that when I feel lost, I am truly finding my way.
I have faith that each time I give away a piece of myself, I gain a piece of another.
I have faith that for each moment of pain, there will be one of inexpressible joy.
I have faith that when today is difficult, I am learning something that will give me strength for tomorrow.
I have faith that every time my heart is broken, I grow stronger.
I have faith that though I may be brought down, I can bring myself back up.
I have faith that when I help someone, it can set off a chain reaction of generosity.
I have faith that all of eternity makes sense, even when this moment doesn’t.
I have faith that I can make things work for the good, though others may not.
I have faith that forgiveness is possible, even when the wounds are deep.
I have faith that faith will be enough, though I stumble and wander.
I have faith that faith will be enough.

Tennis Ball

I sit by the river for some time.
I see twigs, logs, and leaves roll past,
and also a tennis ball—
brown, waterlogged, mysterious.
When did it find its way to this river,
and where was its origin?
It has been traveling hundreds of miles,
many days and nights,
refusing to be caught up along
a bend or a bank.
It has seen one hundred and twelve houses and nineteen shacks.
It has seen at least a dozen swimming pools
and twice as many motor boats.
It has been brushed by two swimmers
and observed by forty-one sets of eyes
Forty-two with mine.
And I wonder:
if I waded into the water to join it,
what would I see?
What would see me?

Pottery

Today's craft comes with a history lesson:

Across Mobile Bay there used to be three kilns, built in the 1800s. They were located directly on the beach next to three natural cold springs, near the towns of Fairhope and Daphne. There was a conveyor belt from each kiln that ran directly to boats that would take the wares away to be sold. In 1960, a hurricane completely destroyed the kilns.
Today, along the beach where the kilns were located, pieces of pottery still collect along the shore shore. Our friend, Sean, was kind enough to show us the location of this treasure trove, and one night we made good use of headlamps as we collected a good number of pieces.
And so I bring you this:

The frame is from a local thrift store, and the colored stones are from the dollar store. The pottery is obviously the remnants of what was in the kilns when they were destroyed.

Now is the time

Now is not the time to dwell.
It is not the time to hold grudges, to exude bitterness, to clutch regret.
It is not the time to fear.
No.
It is a time to journey forth.
It is a time to renew, reflect, rejoice.
It is a time to energize, to analyze, to compromise, to prioritize, to improvise, to conceptualize, to recognize.
It is a time to dive in without hesitations, to swim against the current, to breathe beneath the surface.
It is a time to dream of possibility.
It is a time to listen to the soul.
It is a time to sit and know, a time to stand and step out.
It is a time to embrace life and to question assumptions.
It is a time to draw from what is important and to cast aside all that pulls us away.
It is a time for faith, peace, contemplations.
It is a time for understanding and growing.
It is a time for love.
It is a love that I cannot comprehend.

A Letter to my Past, Current, and Future Self, and All Those Like Me:

First, stand tall.
Do not stoop as if
bending under the weight
of bricks, or troubles, or
the world itself.
No—straighten your legs,
weary as they may be
from your glorious, uncertain travels.
Straighten your back,
hunched as it might have become
over the course of years and miles.
Straighten your neck,
though it wants to lean forward
for it carries the burden
of all you have seen and heard
and of all you have learned—
ten million lessons in all.
Stand tall.
Now look out, at all of
the unfathomable possibility.
Yes, you may see hardships
waiting up ahead,
and yes, you may see mountains
with cliffs too steep to tackle.
But look out, and know
that you will make it; you will survive.
As you look out
at all there is,
also look up
at all there might be.
Look up toward the heavens;
dare to dream of beauty.
Let your mind not be limited
by where you have traveled,
what you have seen,
who you have been.
Instead, embrace the possible.
Don’t be weighed down by stones of the past,
but let each of those ten million lessons
become a foothold for your journey.
How much you have learned!—
and yet.
How much you will learn
with the next breath you take
and the next dream you dream.
Stand tall,
Look out,
Look up.
And live.

A Thing of Value

When we first touch a thing of value—
A glass, a mirror, a jewel, a flower—
We are careful, gentle, hesitant.
We fear we might drop it break it;
We worry we will cause it harm
And it will lose its value.
But over time, as we handle it more,
As we recognize its strengths,
We feel freer to touch
With less care, less fear.
Over time we become confident
In the durability of this good
And we find some small joy
In no longer feeling the need to fret.
Until the day when our confidence
Somehow becomes overconfidence
And our overconfidence
Somehow becomes recklessness.
We break what was once durable,
What was once fragile.
And we lose this thing of value.
So, too, it seems, with our friendships.
So, too, it seems, with our hearts.