Some of Life's Kettle Corn

by Della Metcalf

  Garbage Man

  The garbage truck came by today

  Making all its noise

  Taking out the junk of life

  Trash and broken toys

  I really like the garbage truck

  The huge machine of steel

  With two strong arms to lift the stuff

  One Worker at the wheel

  There comes a time to throw it out

  The garbage in our can

  Stuff that doesn’t need to stay

  Removed by Garbage Man

  It makes you feel much better

  As the big truck rolls away

  Taking trash in any weather

  Stuff that shouldn’t stay

  Spirit’s Age

  Being youngest was my fate

  I always felt I had to wait

  For school to start and when it did

  Well there I was, the shortest kid

  I had to wait for hand-me-downs

  Not often did I go to town

  I sensed inferiority

  It seemed to have a hold on me

  Even at the lesson’s start

  I didn’t notice I was smart

  That I was leading in the class

  I thought that I was always last!

  It took some time to understand

  The mind and heart make up the man

  At no time was I ever less

  My gauges changed to measure “best”

  Life will turn from page to page

  It’s wise to grow in spirit’s age

  Let virtues be your self esteem

  The part of you that can’t be seen

  Chocolate and Troy

  My hand is still a little sore from cutting the bed sheet in half as Jeffrey hung from the door hinge in the hall yesterday. I hope the boss approves of the paperwork.

  He is one of the many manipulative, narcissistic, borderline, passive aggressive types we deal with every day. Some of the patients say he “has a little sugar in his tank.”

  Reviewing the tape gave the security guys a good laugh. Stealing a laugh from tragedy seems to help us stay sane at the locked forensic unit full of half witted inmates hoping to avoid real jail time. They have been deemed “incompetent” to stand trial, so we get them for several months.

  Some of the staff is just like Jeffrey simply wearing scrubs as they sit inside the nurse’s station with its locked doors and impenetrable glass windows. They just have a slightly tighter grip on their transparency.

  Me, I like to be out of the nurse’s station around the inmates. I hope their lives aren’t doomed. I know their charges aren’t heinous, hell I’ve done most everything they got caught doing. It could be true the thought, “only the stupid ones get caught.” Being bipolar and/or psychotic can’t help either. They’re young and still have a chance. I love to bring out their talents and motivate them.

  I’m off today after three twelve hour shifts and I’m exhausted. I slept through a tornado last night. Looking through windows I see tree trunks and limbs all over the yard.

  I feel guilty I must not have heard mom calling for me during the storm. The baby monitor cut off. Her bedroom is downstairs cluttered with elderly support paraphernalia. She is short of breath, tightly gripping her walker as she is determined to reach the lift recliner (her pajamas hanging as she has lost weight). Her brows are bent under mussed up grey hair. She is angry at the sitters, the “necklace,” the bad foot and the oxygen tubing. She is angry about her fading balance, the itching skin rash and her fleeting mind.

  “You call them and make them pick that so-called emergency box up! It yelled ‘power off’ all night long!” She sits in the recliner frustrated that the buttons don’t work while the power is out.

  I light the kerosene heater. I agree with her. I apologize for not hearing her call for me. She watches as I head to the kitchen to prepare what I can for breakfast and her pills.

  “Mom, let me rub lotion on your skin.”

  “My nurse is back.” Her voice has softened. She emanates gratefulness.

  “Yes!” I say, as a gentle massage of warm lotion eases her frail and tired body.

  She falls asleep in the recliner. I cover her with her fuzzy blanket.

  Tears roll down my cheeks. I sit with my back to mom so if she wakes she won’t see. I wipe my face and neck in lonely silence.

  It’s time to eat some chocolate and text my brother, Troy. He reminds me that living a life of purpose and meaning is not always easy. He praises me and I am ready for whatever comes next.

  Shelly the Hermit Crab

  Dad took me to “Crabby Farms”

  I thought she was amazing

  Her pointed tiny monstrous arms

  So many they were caging

  A porous metal box with sand

  Driftwood to rest her belly

  I watched her drag a shell around

  And soon her name was Shelly

  “She’ll need another home soon”

  My dear father said to me

  Her family, food and sand dune

  Were all just by the sea!

  Shelly didn’t seem to mind

  Spending time with me

  Because she was a friend of mine

  I had to set her free

  Mans Port in the Storm

  The ship was rocked by the waves of want and need. The captain stood at the mast considering options. The uncertainty of navigation through the blowing unpredictable winds was very real. He knew what he wanted and what he needed for him to live his fullest life. He could see the distant lights from several villages on land. Although he had prepared, he was apprehensive about his situation at sea in “the playground of ports.”

  The earliest hours of day were dangerous and unsure. A storm was eminent. Only a few light houses could guide him to safety. He was exhausted for his journey had been a long one. Only God knew his true heart and his ideal place to live in love and peace. So the man asked Him, “Where is my perfect port in this storm?”

  God replied, “Trust me. Be patient. You will see.” The sea began to rage. In no time, crests were washing over his deck; the ship seemed no match for the ocean’s mood.

  The captain shouted, “Dear God I prepared! I set out to arrive where I should! Which port do You lead me too! We are taking on water! I am so tired.”

  A deafening clap of lighting pierced the starboard side. It burned violently as the ship headed in the direction of the land. The Captain’s order to abandon ship was unheard by the crew due to the fury of the storm. He could barely see through the uncertainty of his situation. Despite the loss of control, he made courageous and faithful efforts to accept the guidance of a majestic lighthouse. By nothing less than a miracle, he drifted beside a rocky wall of protection. The anchors were lowered as the rains reduced the fire to smoking cinders.

  Just after dawn, the countryside was illuminated and warmed by the beautiful sun. The placid sea waters were surrounded by playful seagulls near green lands where all his needs would be met. He found all and more of what he wanted. With a humble heart, the Captain took several minutes to meditate upon his Lord with praise and gratitude, for he had found his beautiful port in the storm.

  I Did My Best

  After days of restlessness, Mom had not moved for several hours. She lay on her side in the hospital bed provided by the hospice agency. Her breathing was regular, however slow. She continued waiting to hear the voice of her oldest daughter. Grace finally called at noon. I explained to Grace Mom’s condition. I put the phone on “speaker” and held it near our mother. Grace’s voice was trembling. It was clear she was tearful as she spoke.

  “I saw Dad, Mom. He was standing in a field of light, surrounded by tall, golden, wavy wheat.” Her voice broke and sounded wet. “He was sm-smilin
g. There was brightness all around him. He was holding Biscuit and Biscuit’s tail was wagging. He told me, ‘Tell your mother I’m waiting for her.’” Grace sucked up air. Her cracking voice continued, “Mom it was so real. He’s waiting for you Mom. Go, be with Dad. I love you Mom!” I praised and thanked my sister. We ended the call.

  I returned to Mother’s side and said, “I know you’d hug me if you could. Grace is right. Go be with Dad.” Tears rolled down my face as I held her bluish hand. I caressed her shoulder and back. I softly kissed her forehead. “I’m going to miss you but you go, go be with Dad.”

  While her eyes were closed, Mom took just a few more breaths before she stopped breathing. She had struggled with cardiac disease becoming weaker by the day for several months. She suffered through “episodes” that caused faster decline in the last weeks. My mother had been reduced to total dependency in the last days.

  There were times she seemed impatient. I did as much as I could to be helpful and a source of comfort. There were days we were both exhausted. I made a few mistakes and beat myself up for them. Caring for mom was one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done. I thought I was up to the task and ready for anything. There were times I realized what I said or did may not have been ideal. I decided I wouldn’t get to be perfect until I got my own set of wings and that I had simply done my best. I also realized that mom compassionately understood me even while she was unable to clearly express her appreciation. She was making the transition to the heavens. Mom told me days before, “For us, ‘I’m sorry’ goes without saying.” It was an honor to be with her then. I carried with me the knowing that I would hold her again in light and in love where mistakes do not exist.

  Rainbow of Tears

  Tears of laughter crystal clear

  Light brown tears for when I fear

  Orange and red tears when I’m mad

  Indigo blue tears when I’m sad

  Fading pink tears turn from blue

  When I am truly missing you

  When I feel compassion call

  Golden silver tears will fall

  Many reasons for to cry

  Reflected in the rainbow sky

  The Spider

  The spider crawled up to the door

  Creeping closer as I eyed

  The little pest upon the floor

  He is not allowed inside

  I stepped on him outside my door

  I tried to make it quick

  A twinge of guilt he was no more

  He lay dead as a stick

  Arachnid got too close to home

  What if the spider bites?

  Or so he wouldn’t be alone

  Brought rats and snakes and mites!

  I don’t mess with hornet’s nest

  Nor play with baby bear

  The lion’s den I leave to rest

  I dare not go in there!

  Nature has a way I find

  Sometimes it don’t seem kind

  I’ll stay out of their house

  If they’ll stay out of mine!

  If Tears Could Talk

  I await your next call as I am every ready for you. Made by messages from your heart and mind, I rest silently stored in unseen places. I am eager to arrive when you are very hurt, humored, relieved or feeling any extreme emotion (the “Dictionary of Emotions” is huge).

  Please learn not to be embarrassed by me; after all you are a human being. I am warm, soft and easily wiped away. Consider me your droplet friend who protects you from insanity. On the subject of protection, I will be there in times of exposure to toxic fumes or frigid weather or when a bug lands in your eye. I know you need to see so I am looking out for you (no pun intended)!

  You and I unite ensuring you are able to express the crescendo of your feelings. Do let me out! I know you try to hold me back sometimes because you fear appearing vulnerable or you are trying to protect someone. I get that, but every time I am on my way, I feel you needing me, even if for only a moment. I apologize for the redness in your eyes. I might get in your nose or roll down your face. Oh, and for some, sorry about the make-up. I clean things up. I feel very special because God is keeping track of every time you and I get together.

  Silence

  The sound between the tick the tock

  We’re waiting for the pin to drop

  Silence gives the place to go

  Where thoughts are born so that we know

  Silence is a precious prize

  Yes we have ears and we have eyes

  As sounds outside are heard

  Silence mentions not a work

  Without a sound externally

  We listen to the heart

  A mother’s love maternally

  A sleeping baby’s start

  Silence has a gift to bring

  If you look for some of it

  Your ears may ring, ring-a-ling

  You haven’t noticed it!

  Just sit still, don’t move a muscle

  Hear only sounds inside your head

  Forget about your heavy bustle

  Listen to God instead

  So be a silent seeker bro,

  Consider it a treasure

  Silence teaches us to grow

  Silence is a pleasure

  Metamorphosis

  From mumbling words to talking

  From sippy cups to walking

  Riding bikes and running

  Jokes, frogs and cunning

  Ma Ma’s soup, a hot grilled cheese

  Bandages on your skinned knees

  Dressing up for fancy dates

  Crushes, kisses, choosing mates

  Learning from mistakes we’ve made

  Too much sun we find the shade

  See the flower as it blooms

  Butterflies leave their cocoons

  We start out green like tiny seeds

  Some of us amidst the weeds

  You can thrive and grow to be

  The highest bloom upon a tree!

  Faith

  Faith is one of the most commonly used words in theology. It promises nothing. It is disturbing that many people are factual with more confidence in probability. Faith is the sideline cheerleader for uncertainty during times we are concerned and focused on the outcome of diverse circumstances. Faith is defined as, “believing in things unseen.” It is a soft and mysteriously silent word we are attracted to. At times, it is overused or misused; it implies things will go our way if we have it. Faith will change your life by experiencing it but I must explain it is a spiritual word.

  There is a recipe for faith: Understand it is a belief in things unseen. It is synonymous with trusting confidence. Faith is a form of letting go and letting God. You should add a dash of hope to it.

  Faith has changed my life because I believe in what the heavens tell me. Faith never lets me down. I may have to be patient, but the correct outcome or circumstance presents itself time and time again because I trust in God’s ways. I’m peacefully affected by faith because I know that things will be as they are supposed to be. Faith truly replaces stress and worry. Every experience in life teaches. Have faith that your lessons are from God and make the effort to understand them.

  However unclear the purpose of our challenge may be, we try. Faith is a gift to those of us who seek: “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and his righteousness. And all these things shall be added unto you. Hallelujah!” That means, look for the lessons of God. With faith in your life you will sooner or later understand the lessons and exclaim, “Hurray!”

  McConnell Hall

  Driving through the hellish traffic

  North of Dallas, like a Maverick

  My young man, you left the nest

  We both knew you’d do your best

 
Solid painted bricks for walls

  Narrow stairways, smelly halls

  A desk, a bed, a window square

  I knew I had to leave you there

  Later when the settling done

  You learned so much and you had fun

  Your “signature,” if you will

  Cans piled high on window sill

  You made it big the challenge won

  Now the doctor is my son

  Looking back at it all

  It started at McConnell Hall

  Andy Pike and the Gentle Man

  Andy Pike was sixty four

  His wife, she passed away

  No one knocked upon his door

  The children couldn’t stay

  Andy cook? too big a feat!

  He didn’t have the skill

  He hardly had desire to eat

  He barely had the will

  A gentle man across the hall

  So Andy Pike would eat

  Picked up his phone and made a call

  For meals with greens and meat

  The gentle man knocked on the door

  (He volunteered each day)

  Apartment number twenty four

  Where Mr. Pike did stay

  The door crept open cautiously

  Old hands and peeping eyes

  The gentle man stood thoughtfully

  With hamburgers and fries

  Beginning of a brotherhood

  The men began to talk

  Conversation very good

  They went for morning walks

  Friendship has a special way

  A gift from God to give us more

  A buddy gift on any day

  Go ahead! Open your door!

  Sweethearts

  Grandpa’s eyes were blue and small, I sat upon his lap

  He said to me, “I sang this song to Grandma where she sat.

  ‘Let me call you sweetheart I’m in love with you…’”

  His eyes, they filled with tears of love then I was crying too