THE PRICE OF LOVE

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

                                                   A gift left to the world.

An inheritance worth more than gold and jewels.

Each benefactor will testify, with their life and courage,

                                             to the woman  they called Mom.

Each will stand tall and give support to me

and each other,

                         because that is who we 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......

                                 get on with it.

Until than I will unfold the memories

and celebrate the living and loving what we shared.

I will 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 who knew her.

Grief never ends...but changes over time.

Grief is a passage,

                            not a place to live.

Grief is not a sign of weakness,

                                                  not a lack of faith.

Grief is the price of love.

It Is Not I

It is not but God, the Spirit

                                              bellowing through

me.

    pushing,                                      tossing,

proding.

Un relentless.

Gentle as a whisper on a child's cheek

Awesome as a windmill drawing water from the

dirt.

Lifting.                      sailing

Carried toward a new and glorious place and

time.

                                       I must bow to His call..

even for a time.

A sacred spear of life in total turmoil with itself...

         needs a carver to chisel down the layers

                                                   of grief and misunderstandings.

         Can I be the chisel or am I that which is to be

                                                                                  chiseled?

Crack me open.......

          Help me  to find the perfect  peace that comes from

                                                                                            Knowing God.

Fill me with passion and presence

              so I overflow with

                                           a need to embrace the Spirit.

                                                       and spill that embrace into the world.

Three Angels stand at the door...

     Hope in a place that is hopeless.

           Hunger in a world that is filled.

                 Love that joins hands

                                                   across the borders.

I embrace....I become..
                               .I am the tear on God's dear cheek.

I have no choice but to listen....
                                                   .I am because God is.

Love Comes When Love Comes

In a world so big and a life so short,
                                                     Love comes.
Sometimes with careful calculations.
Sometimes with a sudden stroke of God's hand.
It fills you with Holy Presence and
it lifts you to a place filled with clouds and clarity.
Butterflies and symphonies bubble up
                        until you think you can hold no more.
Reason and focus seem to float away
             only to return to guide you unto
a Being .......that soon blends in one accord.
When all else fails,    love fills my heart.
                      God knows what God knows.
                                       Love comes when love comes.

One Holy love is more than we deserve...
           yet second chances come and fill the soul again.

How can you find space to hold her love
            in a heart so full and filled with past love.
How can she stand next to you,
            without standing in the shadows of love past.

Hearts are made to beat and fill,
              filling you with life and love,
never overflowing ....always growing..
⁰ò
Second chance love stands tall and casts her own shadows.
A shadow not to block the past love but to point to future love
and fulfill a promise.
A promise .... to keep on.
                                      To keep on going.
                                                       To keep on going on.
and to honor the Life Love with a life worth living,

God calls you to love,
             each moment precious and never promised.
Embrace love,
                     Embrace life
                                         Embrace loving.
                           because love comes
                                                             when love comes.
                                  and second chance love is a gift from God.
                           

Beautiful Written For Maedbh Duignan my good Irish Friend

 

 

 

Beautiful                                      Stephen J. Jeffries

 

Like a tiny seed,

gently pressed beneath the rich black earth,

we lie patiently waiting for the chance to touch the sunlight;

waiting to be the beautiful child of God's imagination.

 

Seeping silently into each pour and fibur of our  soul,

you touch us , gently at first,

like a father carresses his babies brow,

than tighter to reassure our worth and

force our bud to sprout into the sky,

reaching for our potiential

reaching above the relm of possibilities.

 

We are born into beauty .

But beauty ceases to exist without

the eye's reflection  proclaiming to our soul

 "you are beautiful"

 

 

The rules of beauty only help to

color and coat that reflection

causing us to soon forget  our worth,

soon blossoms fall and wither to the ground,

forgetting what it meant to be loved and to love.

 

Recall our everchanging beauty, proclaim it!

Declare it with word and deed ! So that we

may continue to sprout and blossom toward

the sacred sunlite and someday reach the heart of God.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.