Here’s to unsung heroes –

those who do what they do with humility, dedication, and good humor –

Firefighters, emergency workers, military men and women, bus drivers,  policemen, store clerks, custodians, librarians,

maintenance workers, utility workers, construction workers,

secretaries, and bookkeepers –

you make everyone else’s lives a bit smoother.

Park rangers, road builders, road repairers, heavy equipment

operators, factory workers, engineers –

you keep things working for the rest of us.

Here’s to the teachers, child care workers, social workers,

psychologists, nurses, and guidance counselors –

you care, often when no one else does.

Who cares for you when you need it?

You have to take a bit of joy wherever you can find it.

So, with that in mind, I want to remember some  lighter moments

from the night before and the day of Mom’s funeral.

After the receiving of friends, we went to eat at Tom’s. Woodrow opened

his menu, looked at it for a bit, and said that he wanted number 1 – water.

Then on the morning of the service, I had to stop and put gas in my car –

I know I should have done it the night before, but it was late and I was tired, so…

I stopped in Puryear to fill my car with gas. As I was pulling back  onto the highway,

my phone rang. It was my sister-in-law telling me that Robert had forgotten his jacket

and he was going to stand by Highway 641 and flag me down so we could go ahead

to the funeral home as we had another hour of receiving friends before

we left for the graveside service. I asked where they were on 641 and was told

that they were over the rise! Well, if you know anything about 641, it is straight

as an arrow, and nothing but a series of dips and rises! So, I set off at about 70 mph, yes

we were running late, and just began looking as I topped each rise. Finally,

I topped the correct rise, and there was Robert waving his arms beside the road.

I stopped, he got in, and away we went!

Next, they were going to line up the cars  for the procession to Fort Donelson.

So, a young man came to get my “keys.” I asked if he knew how to drive a Prius. He

assured me that he did and had recently driven one. I handed over my key fob

and away he went. About ten minutes later, the same young man came back to ask me

to go help as they couldn’t get the brake released. I found out later that my nephew’s

wife and her mother were in the parking lot watching this unfold. There were 3 men

who tried to move my car. The ladies were laughing and said that it would probably take

only 1 woman. Right after those words came out of their mouths,  I walked out to

my car with instructions on how to release the brake so he could move my car. My car

was then moved into its rightful place behind the hearse.

Then on the way to the cemetery, I had the funny thought

that this was the only time that I wouldn’t have to worry about getting a speeding

ticket in Dover since the police escort was in front of me rather than behind me!

Later, as we were sitting under the canopy for the service, my grandson Woodrow, soon

to be 2, noticed the flower spray on Mom’s casket. He looked at me and repeated “pick it Grandma”,

“pick it” – he wanted a flower! During the service he was given a copy of the hymn we were

going to sing. He gave it to his Mama and said, “read it mama, read it.” At the end of the service,

after I “picked” him a daisy he said he wanted a pink one too. I then got him one of the pink

rosebuds. He took it from me and looked down at it and said, “Honey bee down in it.”

He and his Dad have been watching their honey bees this summer – he knows where they do

their work! By the way, there wasn’t really a honey bee “down in it” –  at least not right then!

Oh, and the minister had started a new medication that had her feeling dizzy, and at one point during the service she lost her footing a bit, and I was afraid she was going to fall.

Finally, during the service, my son, Will, and my nephew, Stewart – standing side by

side as pall bearers – (I know they were melting in their suits) had a hummingbird fly

up to them and all around them several times. It looked like it might land on them.

I bet Mom was in charge of that! Small bits of joy I’m sure my Mom was responsible

for. Small bits of joy to remember – something Mom would heartily approve of – for that

was her outlook on life.

Heavy gray skies surround ridges

Studded with burnished copper, gold, and russet –

Suddenly punctuated with an exclamation of

Luminous crimson, orange, and yellow and

Still alive with colors of autumn.

We hold our breaths anticipating

The last vestiges of color disappearing,

and being faced with the long dark

Black and white winter.

Trees dressed in finest electric colors

Will soon be bare and offer stark beauty.

From full color to black and white as

Leaves drip from branches like

Water drips from a faucet – slowly and steadily.

Once again time to appreciate the exquisite

Form of each and every branch – the very structure

That makes possible the shape and form

So extolled  and treasured.

Time leads me through life –

meandering as days pass.

Paths lead forward as on

a one way street – yet sometimes

turning me around as if defying

laws of man and nature.

Is this because I yearn for times

past not fully appreciated?

Yet  other times I look forward

to things I have planned, but

still unknown – unexplored –

as if anticipating something

marvelous. However, it is usually

in the humdrum, the everyday, that

I find surprising moments that fill me

with unexpected, startling joy.

Joy lurking in least expected places –

gifts waiting to be unwrapped.

As wind blows

leaves off trees

and swirls them

around me –

nature’s confetti –

I try to take in

the beauty,

the enormity,

the endless

blue of autumn

skies and brilliant

white cotton-like

billowy clouds.

So grateful

for autumn’s

allure and respite

from summer’s heat.

Curvy crescent moon

Lies gently on his back

Swallowing sparkly

Champagne night sky.

You know how you feel all happy inside?

Everything seems right in your world –

When all of a sudden a big place of

sadness opens up in you – you don’t

know where it came from or what

caused it – but, there is no mistaking –

gray clouds have moved in

and stolen your sunshine…

Sometimes I’m fire –

all molten heat and passion.

I can’t escape the burning.

Sometimes I’m  cotton –

soft and tender –

no rough edges.

Sometimes I’m steel –

tough as nails –

don’t mess with me.

Sometimes I’m silk –

smooth, gentle,

soothing to touch.

Sometimes I’m laughter –

clear, bright –

ringing through the air.

Sometimes I’m rain –

tears cut like razors –

washing hurt from my soul.

Sometimes I’m inside –

introspective, searching –

reflecting on life.

Sometimes I’m outside –

gregarious, outgoing –

socializing with all.

Sometimes I’m a mirror –

reflecting, parroting –

echoing all that I see.

Sometimes I’m knowledge –

curious, striving –

educating everyone.

But, seldom am I ice –

cold, hard, and

unyielding to the touch.

I have too much fire for that.