Category: Creating

Good-bye is hard to say

*sigh* Finalizing changes on what has been a gut-wrenching and dead-honest journey of the heart, inspired by words my father spoke to me almost 40 years ago, the recent death of my mother, and the changes these events have pressed upon me. God works in mysterious ways, I’ve heard it said, pursuing us in our brokenness with an unending passion for our souls, to all of which, I say a grateful amen.

Sweet Remnants of the Days…

My 98 YO mother passed on Mother’s Day. I’m still grieving.  As a tribute to her, I created these three little wall hangings from her fabric remnants, trims, and butterfly pins. The top one is mine- made from fabric Mom used to make me a peasant blouse in the early 1970’s. The red one, a gift for my older sister, features a small remnant of Mom’s kitchen curtain fabric from the 1960’s, and the blue one, a gift for my younger sister, is a medley of tiny remnants, but the center of the flower was a remnant of a blouse Mom had made for herself. Touching, cutting, sewing these little pieces of the past on the Singer Featherweight that Mom bought me in the early 1970’s breathed new life into my grieving soul. “Play nice together!”, I heard myself saying to the remnants, something I heard Mom say to me as a child when I wanted to fight with my little sister instead of play with her. It made me smile again, remembering…seems the possibilities could be endless for more smiles, when the box of Mom’s sweet remnants comes out to play…

Poor Man’s Fertilizer


“Poor man’s fertilizer,
Drifting down from someplace higher;
No soft or posh landing does it make,
But clicks and ticks,
To stick itself on branches bare
And grasses, where it waits…
Knowing soon the wind will change;
Spring’s first breath will give it aid
To take the path Creator-laid
And melt to regions netherly
Gathering there, collectively,
Seeping down through hard, brown earth
Immersing the languishing, still asleep, 
Tickling roots, enticing shoots
Both young and green
To shun the night, their winter’s grave
To rise and grow, to bloom and wave…
And when its nurturing work is done,
This fertilizer, a lowly sort,
No brags, no boasts, no long reports;
Its contribution made complete –
No commendations does it seek.
But humbly, it’s content to bring
A simple poor man’s gift to Spring.”  DDC 2018

Grace not wasted

New song finished and dedicated to a dear family member whose Christ-led life, on the brink of eternity these days, was a beacon of light for me…

How do you measure a life? Is it done by days, months, or years? Is it done by great accomplishments, monetary success, or number of friends?…For me, and from my perspective, the Apostle Paul said it best…”But God’s grace has made me what I am, and His grace to me was not wasted.”


“‘Mac’ has come home
From his doctor’s appointment,
But the mystery remains
(To our disappointment),
Though the works ‘Mac’ can do
Are still quite astounding,
For all our mail missing,
Sadly, there’s no accounting.


It’s a First-World dilemma
To be pondering such,
And as thoughts turn eternal
It won’t matter much;
So I’ll pray for a healing- 
For me, not our ‘Mac’;
For strength to let go,
And to never look back.


I’ll hope for Your goodness,
Trusting each step I take,
From glory to glory
Proves a measure of faith.
With more grace to be known,
And more lessons of Truth,
To You, I’m releasing 
The old for the new.”