His Hand in Mine

His Hand in Mine
John and I and our bride and groom hands

This hand that I’ve held for over 37 years.

Wrapped around mine, love pulsing through our fingers, sending our hearts surging with excitement.

How my insides lit on fire the first time I held your strong, soft hand. I didn’t want to ever let go.

I thought of this driving home last evening from our weekly date night. It was dark, we were both lost in our own thoughts, and then you reached across the console and took my hand in yours.

Still strong, but now callused and a bit rougher. Working hands that clearly show many years of pride in providing for our family.

The intense need of wanting to know I was “the one” when we first met to, now replaced with comfort, peace, acceptance and security. A different kind of love. One that has grown and evolved, through all the ups and downs…

To still wanting to hold hands. Still needing that connection.

That connection of tenderness that morphs as time continues to slip on by.

Time now closer to the end than the beginning makes each second the clock ticks even more precious.

Your hand in mine which is my rock.

The one that gently winds his fingers through mine and all that matters is this one, precious moment.

And these moments of love that flash through my mind each and every time your hand reaches for mine.

They are gifts of reminders and of never forgetting what matters most.

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Winding the Roads to Sacred Ground

Winding Roads to Sacred Grond
Holy Hill

The trees lining the winding roads in their glorious fall colors of brilliants – brilliant orange, brilliant red and brilliant yellow, were our guides as my best friend, Victoria and I drove to sacred ground in Washington county yesterday.

Adding to the sacredness of being in nature the soundtrack from On Golden Pond played in the background in the car lulling us into this connection of our souls that no words can even touch.

At one point of the soundtrack, the crescendo of melody, the trees ablaze in their spectacular color, I knew I was with my soul sister when we were both brought to tears from the glory of this beautiful world the creator made for us to enjoy.

I don’t consider myself particularly drawn to one religion, but I do believe in God. I also appreciate the many different symbols, narratives and sacred histories that work to help explain the meaning of life. I’m open to learning from each of them.

Our destination for our fall excursion is a destination many flock to in our area, and for visitors from far away too – Holy Hill – Basilica of the National Shrine of Mary.

I’ve never believed that one has to go to a church to believe in God or to have a relationship with the Divine.

But I must say that sitting in that Basilica yesterday in silence, with my best friend beside me, and the sky high ceilings, surrounded by exquisite, take-my-breath away stained glass windows, well, it was palpable.

After a few moments we walked quietly in contemplation to enter the prayer chapel with candles lit up and down either side of the outside aisles. Many were sitting in chairs with eyes closed, or gazing straight ahead at Mother Mary and child.

It was again deeply palpable. I wanted to weep, but didn’t. But what I understood was that no matter our religion or beliefs we all want the same thing. To deeply understand we are a part of something bigger, that we matter and that we are loved.

Walking the grounds, taking photos, and being in silence often with my dear friend was truly a meditation. One that made me appreciate even more this life that I have, the world that is before us, and the hope that we can all find peace within our hearts.

I posted photos of our day at Holy Hill in an album on Facebook. Come see.

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Honoring the Domestic Goddess Within

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Fall brings out the domestic Goddess in me.

And so does a new vacuum.

Seriously, I love to vacuum.

Friday I bought a middle-of-the-line Hoover. My other vacuum (not a Hoover) was fed up with the dog hair and rigorous workouts that I tend to put my vacuums through.

So off to the vacuum heaven my tired, old one went.

And in its place a shiny new red one with exciting new accessories to explore. Yesterday was the day to take it for a test drive and I don’t think my house and car knew what hit them. It was as if I was in a vacuum cleaning trance!

I don’t think there is an inch of my house that wasn’t touched and now I have this driving itch to take it for a whirl through my writing cottage.

But Kylie scattered to her kennel as she does when the “naughty” vacuum comes out. And Gidget, well, she goes from room to room. Wherever IT is, she is not.

The whirring sound echoed throughout our house and outside for a good part of the morning. And I noticed after vacuuming the screen door, my last place of attack for the day, that Gidget was in her bed only inches away.

She didn’t take off this time as she usually does with a “don’t come near me” look at the vacuum. Perhaps this vacuum and her will be friends…. or she was lulled to sleep from all that humming…or perhaps she was exhausted from trying to keep up with my vacuuming frenzy.

At any rate, I don’t know what exactly it is about Fall, but I love honoring the domestic Goddess in me.

Snuggling in close to my own surroundings, being with John and the dogs, making delicious dinners, fires in the woodstove, and tackling home projects… it is all very grounding.

A great sense of accomplishment and pride in home- maybe that’s what it is.

Home has always been so important to me. It’s where I feel most centered and where I welcome the domestic Goddess when she wishes to come out and play.

Each Goddess within us, so necessary to explore and honor when she presents herself.

And I do think that Vacuum Goddess is calling out again, so I best sign off and take her for a whirl through the walls of my writing cottage.

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