When I think of "home", one memory that comes to mind is the family farm where I grew up (in Allentown, NJ). I got to be on vacation last week at the beach with most of the family that I grew up with. I loved the farm when I was growing up, but when my parents moved from there several years ago is when I really began to appreciate it's beauty--the farmhouse, which was like a palace to me, the incredible gardens, the fields, the creek. It is so much a part of who I am. And as I grow and learn on my faith journey, that place--and specifically the bonds that were formed, the love that grew and flourished remind me that in many ways my authentic self, is that little girl with wide eyes of wonder and a quiet curiosity.
Over the next weeks, I'm going to share some poems I wrote a few years ago which are memories of that place, along with some I've written recently about how that beginning shaped me. I hope you enjoy taking the journey with me.
THE STORIES THE ASH TREE COULD TELL
If the ash tree could talk of all the secrets told there
Of who loved who and heartbreak, pain and tears
Of joyful laughter, of stories imagined, then sweetly shared
The solace and peace of the arms that held each heart
Climbing up to the top, or sitting on the lowest limbOr sprawled beneath the lush shade of that old friend
Where dreams were dreamed and promises kept
Where shouts of glee met quiet whispers in the night
Watching a family grow from toddler to grown
Of baseball, soccer and football games observed
Cheered each one by quietly waving the might branches
Leaves rustling in the word or catching a foul ball in his trunk
Hearing the explicit plan of each escapade to the creek
Who would build the raft, or race through cattails
Could a fort be built in the brush by the water?
Who would take the first sled ride down the hill?
Sharing the delight, then watching as each found a life of their own
Leaving...one by one...to explore new lands, bigger adventures
Yet knowing that his robust arms embrace each one well
Provided a strong foundation where values were born and lived
For just as he provided deep and loving protection from the world
His wisdom standing firm, yet giving room to grow and take flight
So that when the winds blow, the waves crash, the storm gathers
The roots and beauty of the tree dig in deeper, nurture more strongly
Revealing the splendor of the family he embraced for so long
His charge complete as the love that stands the test of time
Made a difference in the strength, depth and understanding of each one...
Oh the stories the ash tree could tell
THE SHOP
To My Hero, My Dad
I can still smell the smell
And hear the sounds
Of sawdust and oil
Of saws and hammers
The haven of my hero
Working intently
To fix something
Or to create something new
With precision and pride
Teaching what it was
To bring to life
A carefully laid plan
Still, I see the old jars and cans
Filled with every size nut and bolt
The chill of the workshop
Yet the warmth and peace of it
The smell of his pipe
The twinkle of his eye
The touch of his hardworking hands
The glow of him warm and bright smile
I can still see him standing there
Beginning the creation, working diligently
Passing wisdom from children to grandchildren--
The character of the man shining through
