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Archive for May, 2010


Young children bound across

Fields of clover and wildflowers

Laughing

Leaping

Twirling

Holding close

Their brown parcel

Tied and taped

Simmering

strawberry jam

Hot

buttery bread

Calling them home

Kimberley Formosa © 2010

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Dedicated to Samuel.

I am me and

You are you

But we are we.

We are one

every time

Me and my shadow

go for a walk.

Me and my shadow.

You are in front

I am behind

I would have it

no other way

You greet first

With a great big smile

To all the passers-by

Dogs of every size

And children

Playing

Biking

Running

Laughing

You love shiny cars

and buses

and trucks

and all of the green

that is in our world

grasses and

trees and

bushes

I love the poppies at the end of the street

Great big orange poppies

dancing in the breeze

And the bush with the red tea roses

Hundreds and

hundreds of

red tea roses

I love the rose that

grows just for you

You can see it and

touch it and

smell it

Yes, we are one

Whether the sun is hanging over our sky east or west, casting our shadow right or left, I always find you quite intrigued with the shadow we portray.

me and my shadow

I look at the

cars and

trucks and

buses

with you

You look at the

flowers

with me

You are in front

I am behind

I love our shadow.

Kimberley Formosa © 2010

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We Keep Moving :: We Keep Moving – National Multiple Sclerosis Society.

Please, take a moment to meet and get to know my son Isaac’s, girlfriend Ashley. She is a strong and motivated young lady making a difference in our world.

Thank you Ashley!

Love you!!

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The Rose

My favorite and most intoxicating rose along the path of which I walk.

will bloom

a hundred times

The Violet

sweet and tender

The Buttercup

will sing its’ rhymes

While the Honeysuckle

Its’ sweet

nectar

Will so kindly

render

A fragrance

soothing to the soul

Thank you Father
So gracious, loving and kind

For the Iris

the Hyacinth

The Daffodil

and Tulip

Thank you Father
So caring, tender, and divine

For Apple Blossom

Hydrangea

The sweet and innocent beauty of a single Columbine blossom.

And the sweet delicate

Columbine

I praise You for your beauty
Displayed for all the world to see
You are wonderful
You are great
And with all my heart
I love You

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.” John 15:1

Kimberley Formosa © 2010

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“Never allow your beauty to escape this world unseen.”

Come into a world of quietness with me. Not into the quietness associated with peace, where you envision a placid lake with trees rustling their brightly colored autumn leaves and a blue sky that seems to envelope your very being. No, this world of quietness is much different. Years of silence and solitude sheltered this broken heart from any further pain and suffering. More than fifteen years had gone by without the slightest utterance of any kind from this 100-year-old woman, born and raised in Scotland. Come with me and tend to a garden, a garden of the heart, and watch what love and hope will grow there.

Oley had blue eyes as bright and clear as a fresh Scottish morning. Her white hair gently adorned her face. Her hands were always calmly folded in front of her. A pain was never moaned. A happy moment was never enjoyed. A question never asked or an answer never offered. A story never told of a childhood lived long ago. Possibly fear, or a painfully emotional situation kept her quiet. I can only imagine that it was something so great that hopelessness received the undue benefits and privileges of a sweet and tender heart ~ lost, seemingly forever. Oley was isolated in her own world of loneliness.

It is not a common characteristic to give more than what you have received. Oley was cared for physically, yet lacking greatly emotionally. For instance, if I gave you a tattered, worn, and unlabeled packet of seeds, what would you do with them? And as you shoved them into your pocket while thinking of how crazy I was, I added, “Oh! Those seeds are at least 15 years old.”

Would you be frustrated or possibly angry with me for giving you something so foolish and to think that you would even have the time to waste on something so insensible? Maybe you enjoy a good mystery and would go home and dig up a little bit of earth. Your effort may prove itself fruitless. Yet a great orange pumpkin may grow. Possibly a tall and happy sunflower lies in the palm of your hand. Your hands can work miracles if your heart tends to all that you do with love and patience.

I am not sure of how many people ever spoke to Oley in a way to touch her heart. I am afraid that through the years in that place there were not many to take the time to dig up a little earth. I spoke to Oley when I fed her and put her to bed at night. When I had her all tucked in, I would bend over and look into her eyes of blue through the side rail and say, “Goodnight Oley, I love you.”

After fifteen evenings of caring for Oley, after fifteen times of saying goodnight and I love you, an incredibly beautiful miracle occurred. Oley took her right hand and placed it on top of mine upon the side rail. Her cheeks began to quiver and her lips began to tremble and from her mouth came the crackliest voice you could ever imagine with the sweetest words in all of creation, “I love you, too.” Astonishment grabbed hold of me while I told Oley again and again with tears in my eyes and tears in her eyes, “Oh! Oley, I love you. I love you.”

When I could walk away from that moment I went to the nurses’ station to share with everyone what had happened. A very puzzled “What?” came forth from one of the aides and I repeated, “Oley spoke to me.” Everyone jumped out of their seats and ran down the hall. The nurse said as she hurried on her way to Oley’s room, “Oley doesn’t speak. It says that in her chart. I can show you.” I waited. A moment later the staff came out of her room just as amazed as I had been a few moments before.

Nobody knew why Oley stopped speaking. I am sure her caretakers questioned this issue at one point. Was it fear that brought silence into a world that needed to be reassured with love? Was it heartfelt pain that caused so much overwhelming grief that any joy for life was quietly subdued into a realm of complete isolation? Whatever the reason, Oley became unresponsive. The questions stopped being asked. Any therapy pursued was gradually relinquished. Through the years everyone seemed to accept the fact that Oley was mute.

After this wonder occurred, everyone began to talk with Oley and openly communicate their love to her, as she was now able to give back to them. It is not that they did not love her and take incredibly good care of her before; they just did not realize that they too could touch a quiet and lonely heart. There was a beautiful flower hidden in the depths of a weary soul. That old saying “Take time to smell the roses” is true. Some roses offer such a sweet perfume you long to drink of it.

Are you willing to love another without love being returned? Will you plant those seeds your crazy friend gave you that have sat in the bottom of your pocket? Get your hands dirty in the brown earth to plant a seed that you can only hope will grow. Realize that you possess beauty that can change the world you touch in a remarkable way. Also, please appreciate that in every face you behold, there is a soul that lies within, and at times, very deep within. You may need to dig through fear, anger, or pain, but the beauty that emerges will be amazing. Put your hands to kindness. Shower your words with love. Always believe. Always hope.

From that day forward, Oley spoke those beautiful words, “I love you.” The next word she spoke was “Goodnight.”

This is a based on a true story. ~Kimberley Formosa © 2010

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Believe


I am alive

today

living

and

breathing

My heart

beating

to look

into your eyes

and smile

to believe

in your dreams

and listen

to walk

that path

with you

in the heat

of the noon day

sun

when the winds and

rain

appear

to be

fearless

even on the

darkest

of nights

Long Overdue by Jennifer Greenfield

I am alive

today

to be a part of

Your day

Your life

Your love

Kimberley Formosa © 2010

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Rescued


Bred for income

without

care

love

or even a fair amount of

concern.

A mill of puppies.

Whose hands are stained with greed?

How many times have others been alarmed

and asked with uneasiness

“Where did you get him from?”

“He was rescued from a puppy mill.”

And once a solemn  and grave response…

“Oh, so they were going to throw him away.”

But here you are…

Tullamore Dew

Rescued

from the arms of animal

traitors.

They compromised your

health

love and

frivolity

Then they

planned on simply

discarding you

because

you

Tullamore Dew

are not perfect.

Well, I would like to take the opportunity

where my

pen

pours its’ ink

upon these pages to

tell the world

Just how lovely your

brown eyes are

I am so taken aback by the

waves of fur

on your

floppy ears

Your

paintbrush tail

is either

timidly wagging

between your legs

or quite

joyously beating

upon anything or

anyone

that has captured your

lavish attention

The kisses given and received

I wouldn’t trade for anything

You have done a

just and noble act

in stealing my

heart

Your

devout observance

of all the sounds and sights

of your new world lends itself to the

cutest

cocks and turns of your

head

My lap will never see another

cold day

with you around

Those mills

“ruined you”

and would have

eliminated you

for your many

imperfections.

But Tully

You have been rescued.

You are loved.

Livie Lady Photography

Tully

When you hobble over to me

I smile and pick you up

I hug you and

love you

And you

love me

right back.

I think

Tully

that maybe

You rescued me.

If you would like to read more about the tragedy of puppy mills, I would like to suggest “Saving Gracie” by Carol Bradley~how one dog escaped the shadowy world of American puppy mills.                                               http://carolbradley.com/

Kimberley Formosa © 2010

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