• My Poems

    Grandson, Summer {a #poem}

    The raspberries–your favorite–ripened after You’d gone, the sun’s August denouement Leaving a subtle ruby postscript like pendants Suspended on green-edged strands. Gentle tugs released the jewels between My fingers then traveled to my mouth. They were (almost) sweet and needed More time for sugaring. Had you been here To share the waning warm days’ treasure I could have held you, too, before you Grew into full fledged bloom, walking into The world seeking your own fruited fortune.

  • Made Things

    The Sound of Musing

    A thousand years ago when my children were growing up, their grandparents spoiled them by letting them stay up as late as they wanted when they went to visit their home in Southern California.   And when they stayed up late it was usually to watch ‘The Kids’….my children’s name for “The Sound of Music.” (Well, wouldn’t you call it that? After all, a captain with seven children…). When Grandma and Grandpa sold their home and began to travel in their motorhome, they equipped it with a TV and a VCR to watch movies on VHS (you can Google it). They’d park in front of our house in Fresno for…

  • Made Things

    Summer Snapshot-A Photo Essay

    I’ve not been very up close and personal with the family scrapbook-like sharing here in this space.  But since Jennifer Finding Heaven Ferguson asked……well, here’s how I was refreshed last weekend.  And praise Jesus it came just in the nick of time–it’s been a challenging summer. Forthwith The Collins Family Swimming and Burger King Adventure (with a little Julie Andrews thrown in at the end…you’ll see what I mean.) Crazy Grandpa (my husband Bill) with youngest grandson Luke. Hanan (too cool for school) in front. Abi to the left is a floating fish. My son Aaron is behind him with Peter in the air, and Courtney is trying to convince Paul it’s okay…

  • Poetry

    Watching Hanan See the World {a #poem}

                              Spider, bug, Ant and bee In my garden, At my knee. Provide a show For this young one, Eyes tuned tight In midday sun. He alone can see them move We pass so fast his dawdling proves Were we more still We’d find delight In this wee world Through child’s sight. Just a simple poem for my first grandson. Children delight in the simplest things.

  • Life in General

    Names Matter

        “Nana, do you have any kids?”   I am wedged on the couch between Abigail, 4 1/2 and Paul Silas, 2 1/2. We are reading a bedtime story. ‘Goodnight Moon’, no doubt; it is always ‘Goodnight Moon.’ “Well, Abi, I have two kids. One is your Auntie Leah and the other is your Papa.” “Oh.” (Maybe she wanted to know if there was anyone else in the house to play with besides her Grandpa and I…) I could tell by the sound of her voice  she had absolutely no idea what I just said. Paul, of course, was oblivious; he is after all, only 2-ish. (l to r) Hanan, Peter, Abigail and Paul…

  • Made Things

    The Song of Your Life

    Maybe you have a Life Verse, one Scripture that encapsulates your identity, from God’s voice to your ears. Mine is Psalm 45:1, “My tongue is the pen of a ready writer…), but what would be your song? When the service begins to celebrate your passing (which I am not doing any time soon, just for the record) will they know what to play? I’ve been considering this question more and more lately, as I approach my ‘twilight’ years. Without sounding a little weird, I think it’s wise to have something written down ahead of time so there are some directions and you have a little say-so in how things are done…

  • Poetry

    Neat Little Package{a #poem}

    I wrote this poem on the January day in 2003 when my first grandson, Hanan Samuel, was born.  This week he turned 9….I wanted to share this to honor him.                Your birth today unequivocally proved that science still can do nothing at explaining the miraculous. The day you came into the world the university physicists claimed to be pursuing an explanation of gravity. an unseen force, it defies definition actually They lamented that “it can’t exactly be pinned down” and “doesn’t act in a way that science can explain.” It has been said that “nothing important is completely explicable.**” Indeed, your miraculous birth…