Dublin in the Fall

When Joyce and I traveled to Dublin a few years ago, we had no idea the impact it would have on our lives.  The sense of connection with our past and the history of our ancestors is beyond belief.  My mom always remind me of my Irish roots  and when we traveled there it was as much for her as it was for us.  History and blood connects us all.





Dublin in the Fall

I am far away

                        In the city by the sea.

Touch my heart,

                        grip my soul

my blood knows

                              that it is home.

Deep orange hues,

                                yellow reds

frame the ancient buildings tall.

Gentle smiles,........ stories tall

gave me sense of place and time.

Fiddle............. harp,

                                 songs of yore

echoed sounds that made me stomp

                                                 made me tap.

Made me yearn for mothers lap

                       Hearing stories of parents passed.

How they left their home and trees

                           Never to see the falling leaves

Never to touch the soil of birth.

Blood is home, blood is back

                                 standing on the roots of life

crunching leaves that fill the air

                                       the same stones that filled their path

the same moon that shined their night

Touch my heart

                                     fill my soul

My blood knows that it is home.

　

　

　

　

　

　
　

The Price Of Love

 This poem was written during a time of grief for Richard, a great friend.  As he told me of  Diana's last days in hospice after a long battle with cancer, I imagined what those moments might be like. The love devotion and dedication that they shared can only be a gift from God.  As it is near the anniversary of Diana's  death, The grief remains but the love and hope and celebration of her faith and courage shines through.  



The Price of Love                                        Stephen J. Jeffries

My head cradled on her breast,

trying to sleep with one eye open,

                                     one closed.

I felt every labored breath

as she struggled to hang on

one more hour,

              one more second..

I told her it was ok to go,

                        ok to reach up to heaven

                                                          and touch the hand of God.

But I lied,

                                                                                     it was not ok.

It took every fiber of my being to even think of her not being in my life.

Memories kept flooding my eyes and filling them with tears.

Tears of joy for all the living we shared.

All the moments that now can not be taken from us.

Lying on the beach with nothing

                              but our passion to shield us from the brilliant sunlight.
We became one, ...........one in love........... and one in God.

Our love and our loving was quickly followed by our children.

One by one becoming the

                                  building blocks of our family,

cementing our love for each other and for those little people that

                                                                             God blessed us with.

As legacy's go, they will live on to be her legacy,

                                                                a gift left to the world.

                  An inheritance worth more that gold and jewels.

Each will testify with their life and courage of the woman that they called Mom.

                 Each will stand tall and give support to me

                                             and to each other because that is who they are.

I can not promise

that I will ever quit grieving for the love of my life,

                              but...... the day will come when I will hear her small voice

insisting that I move on

                                                                                   and get on with it.

Until than I will unfold the memories

                                    and celebrate the living and loving that we shared

and try to give back the courage and

                                                the loving heart that filled her breast

and surrounded her life and spilled over into mine

                                                                 and to those that knew her.

Grief never ends....but changes with time.

                                                          Grief is a passage,
not a place to build a home.


Grief is not a sign of weakness,

                                           not a lack of faith.

                                                                        Grief is the price of love.

　

　

　

The Last Walk

This poem was written soon after the death of a good friends wife after an 18 year struggle with cancer.  As he told me about his last walk before she passed I tried to imagine the feelings and the moment.  Grieving is a journey and this is how I move through grief. I hope this might help someone else move on in that journey.


The Last Walk                                                               Stephen J. Jeffries               
 

The sky surrounds us
                                with the glow of an early autumn sunset.

I feel the wind to our backs

                               as we stepped gently down the gravel road.

The winter chill had began to set and made our steps a little quicker

                                                     quicker maybe but not anxious

                                                                                        to hurry our time together.

These times were the great times.

These times when we did not have to share our selves

                                                                         with the world,

only with each other.

Some times it was a quiet time.

The only noise was that of an occastional passing truck or tractor

                                                  or the crunch of leaves beneath our feet.

Years of marriage,......... of loving,........... gave us the freedom of silence.

No need for small talk or nervous chatter.

There was comfort in our silent tongue.

                                                 Comfort knowing the shared thoughts

                                                     and the shared love did not require words.

But words came.

                                                                                                                           The children,

and all the many blessings they have given and how their lives will be a tribute to our love,

                                                                                                                           filled our hearts.

Our love will live forever in their hearts and lives

                                                                             and in that of their children.

As we clasp hands,

not knowing that this would be our last walk down this winding country road,

I felt the spark and the spirit

                                           that had carried us to this place.

It felt like the breath of God upon our

                                                      shoulders and neck,

                                                                                   lifting us up.

We knew God and God knew us

                                                                                             and peace filled us.

We never talked that night about endings,

or the possibilities of life and sickness.

We did not know this was the last walk,

                                                            or should we have.

Walking and living should always be as if it was the last time.

As if our fragle lives might end this moment.

not living in sadness,

                                                                                   but living in the joy of loving.

We only get one chance to hold each other in our hearts.

To live like tomorrow may never come.

To walk each day as if it is your last walk together.

                                                                                                              She is gone now.

Gone now from the pains of this world.

                                              But not gone from the love.

One day I will be able to walk that rockie country road again,

                                                                                    this time with only God by my side,

God and the spirit of my loving wife.

It will be hard but I know her hand will still caress mine

                                                as I walk shoulder to shoulder down the winding roads of life.

Her thoughts and mine will still shout to the heavens

WHAT A BLESSING OUR LOVE CONTINUES TO BE !
 
Live your love like the road you are on

                                                                                                is your first together.

Live your life like the road,

                                where ever it is headed,

                                                                                                                                  is the last.


　

Letter from a Grandmother to Christine

I was going through some of my Mom's , Marie Jeffries's journals and found this poem she wrote to my niece Christine Paddock. It still rings very true for all the people she loved. TO Christine With Love: Live each day to the fullest. Get the most from each hour, each day, and each age of your life. Then you can look forward with confidence and back without regrets. Be yourself - but be your best self. Dare to be different and to follow your own star. And don't be afraid to be happy. Enjoy what is beautiful. Love with all your heart and soul. Believe that those you love, love you. Forget what have done for your friends and remember what they have done for you. Disregard what the world owes you, and concentrate on what you owe the world. When you are faced with a decision, make that decision as wisely as possible-than forget it. The moment of absolute certainty never arrives. Above all remember that God helps those who help themselves. Act as if everything depended on you, and pray as if everything depended upon God. Your Grandmother

A Trip to the Warehouse

First of all, I am sharing this story not because I want a pat on the back or a reason to feel good about myself. I just want my friends to know a little bit about the human condition and what other people are experiencing in the world today right here where we live. Anyone who knows me , knows that I am a volunteer and board member of Changing Footprints, an all volunteer non profit that seeks to collect and distribute shoes to those in need here at home and around the world. Being involved with this organization is one of the best things I have done in my life and I thank Maureen Leisure, the founder and my Rushville High School classmate, for inviting me to be involved. I am a delivery person. I don't make light of what I do. Anyone could do it but without a delivery person donating, collecting sorting and boxing would be a useless process. So I like being even a small part of the process. I am also always looking for new groups to collect shoes and to volunteer and sort shoes. A year or so ago a church youth group, called The Rock, from New Palestine came to me and wanted to collect shoes in New Palestine High School. Of course I was thrilled. That was over a year ago and they are still collecting shoes. Last year they decided they wanted to do more. So I invited them to come to our warehouse and sort shoes. After a while of trying to find a date at the same time we had shoes to sort, we decided to take a group down to Rushville this last Sunday. I said we had to make sure we had shoes, as most times shoes come in. are sorted and go out pretty quickly. The needs are great and currently we have a hard time supplying all the shoes that are ask for. I decided to take a friend of mine from church with me. His name is Michael and he is homeless. Michael has been a regular in Cumberland First Baptist for several years now. When he first came and I found out he was sleeping on the street and often eating out of dumpster, I was very very sad and concerned as to how help him. I am still concerned but I have gotten past the tears. Michael has become a friend over the time I have known him. I was not sure when I ask him how he would respond. He said yes and after lunch we started our trip to New Palestine. I don't think he had been in the country for a while. He kept remarking on the little towns that you could almost miss if you blinked. On our ride down, he repeated several times that his homelessness was not relevant to who he was. He was not a homeless man, he was a man and a friend that happened to be homeless. I told him, the group of young people, were mostly strangers to me, and I did not expect him to say or do anything. I did not want to make him uncomfortable or feel out of place. I mostly wanted to show off our warehouse which we have recently rehabbed and show him a little about how it worked. If I know anything about Michael it is that he is a strong advocate for the plight of the homeless. He stands up for himself and for others, hoping to change the way the homeless in Indianapolis are treated and how they are viewed. From what he said , he was not one of those people that always had his hand out for money. He has learned the system and gets food stamps and an "Obama Phone". A friend gives him money for a bus pass so he can come to the eastside to our church. If you were to give him money, he would probably use it to help someone else with food or a bus pass. When we have a church dinner, sure he will take leftovers back "home" with him. But he would also be the first there to take down tables or to wash dishes. He is always willing to give back whether it is ringing the bell on Sunday to call us to worship or with projects in church. I would never attempt to tell Michaels story and how he was forced to live on the streets. But I do realize that his story is not a lot different and that I know a great number of people, myself included, could easily become homeless and be forced on the streets just as he has. Michael did not share with the young people as I had hoped he might. Maybe another time. He is pretty quiet and I am not sure many of the kids did not even knew he was homeless. Michael picked out shoes, not for himself but for several of his friends. I had just taken him shoes a few weeks back. The interesting thing is when helping him pick out shoes in a warehouse full of shoes, there were only a couple of pair that he thought would work. They need to be able to take the weather and not be too flashy. He needed one more pair for his friend Kirt but they required Velcro because he was unable to bend over and tie his shoes. We did not find them yet. This was a good day. This was what Changing Footprints is all about. The enthusiasm and energy that the youth and their leaders brought to the warehouse gave me hope that our mission would continue to thrive and grow and help those in need. This was a good day. I got to know Michael a little better and hopefully come a little closer to understanding his situation. When I finally had to drive Michael back downtown Indianapolis and drop him off, I will admit to some tears. He told me to drop him off in a parking lot across from Military Park where he stays. He than carried his belongings to an area of bushes to hide them so he could go into Marsh and use their Wi-Fi for the rest of the evening. I learned when he is not at a store using their Wi-Fi, he is at the public library on Facebook or studying genealogy. He is a genius when working with genealogy. I have also strongly suggested on several occasions that he record his story on paper. I know I am interested and I am sure many others are too. I hope introducing you to Michael will somehow put a face of the homeless issue in our community and around the world. Michael is just one of many who deal with homelessness in our community. True he is probably not typical but he represents many all with faces and lives and sometimes families. I feel like Changing Footprints does its share in helping but it will take much much more. Our tagline has always been "we are changing the world two feet at a time" Every action we take, every shoe we collect or person we help may seem insignificant but it all will help and together we can live in the way Christ taught us to live.