With a Dieting Pledge

My Pledge

Being of sound mind within a body fat

I solemnly declare

to avoid the following foods, I swear:

Butter, gravy, and all sauces;

sugar in any form won't be my bosses;

apple pie topped with ice cream--

from now on

I'm aiming toward lean;

Chips and munchies 

and words like, "more--"

will be obliterated

from my kitchen store;

chocolate cookies,

including the batter,

is only going to make me fatter!

Health will be my final diet:

(I'll chew my carrots

and break the quiet;)

I can get through 

Monday just you wait and see;

Nutritionally 

there's going to be

a brand new me!

Written by 

Connie Nelson Ahlberg

 Too Long Ago!

A Mother's Voice

  

Doux Reves - French 

by Firmin Baes

Sweet Dreams - English

A Mother's Voice

Though there will be a day when each of us joins the angels

or forms a light beyond Venus; yet today, to call and

have you answer your phone, an ordinary thing,
you with quiet joy saying my name, even now I know,
 this ordinary thing, is most sacred--and cherished. 

By Connie Nelson Ahlberg

All Rights Reserved.

                                      

A Mother's Voice was written and given to my mother before she flew up. 

Take Heart: The Weeping Willow Comes

Willow tree with woodbine honeysuckle

by Roger Griffin

Signs of Spring

'Neath our last impatient days of spring, we wait for the sun. But yesterday I was

cheered by the beginnings of hanging green, hanging green on a weeping willow tree. It

cheered me all the way home. And the grass, too, held hope like open arms. 

A neighbor used to have a weeping willow tree. To me it marked her yard. But then it 

turned noisome with all the long branches lying about in needed of picking up. I forget 

what else was wrong with the tree. But one day the tree was gone and a garden in it's place.

Weeping willows, (or weeping "willahs" as they're pronounced in the South), have captivated me. Enough to push me to write:

Prayer of the Weeping Willow

A weeping willow is grand

because it has wept

where it stands,

turning experiential sorrow

into a seasoned grace;

Lord, bless this moistened face,

for these bows of grace

simply bend to honor Thee. 

I do know of people who have turned sorrow into grace. They become your mentors.