Preparing for a Future Valentine

For those of my readers who are not personal friends of mine, you may find it interesting to know that I have never really been a poet. I tried to write a song or two that rhymed when I was little, and they were pretty laughable. As were most of the poems I wrote. I usually just stuck with "Roses are red, Violets are blue, etc" on my birthday cards, as that was about as good as it got. Side note: Violet's are not blue! They are purple. And the word Violet is also used as the color describing a rich shade of purple. Not bluish-purple. Straight up purple. But something interesting has happened in the last few months. My writing tastes have turned a little, and a few months ago I wrote the first poem that was anywhere near a success. Now, I am no Emily Dickinson, Robert Louis Stevenson, and certainly no Shakespeare. But I actually kept this poem instead of promptly burning it. Welcome His Kiss      Some may gain joy When it looks like rain But for me its the sun

I do not feel that it is fair to leave my readers in the dark on a very influential event in my life recently. I only hope that I can find the words to explain it with grace and dignity. Not something I have always been good at when I am in a place of pain.... The past 7 months were ones that I learned more and loved more than I think I have in the entire rest of my life. That may seem like a dramatic statement, but at this point in time I find it is the truth. But though I have learned much, and loved much, that chapter of my life has drawn to a close abruptly. And it is that abruptness of the loss of a dream that brings about grieving and will take time and God's grace to heal. "Which dream?" you may be asking. But I can't answer that just yet. First I want to tell you exactly what it was that God taught me in the past 7 months. I do that both so you do not leave this post depressed, and because I want you to keep reading. Sneaky author tactics, I know, but b