Why home is still here

Where we love is home,

home that our feet may leave,

but not our hearts. (Oliver Wendell Holmes)

The family comes to Norway

And they have become Norwegian. I think we will all be back one day.

Even when there are no grapes on the vine...

will I remember the sweetness of You.

My life with Rose

To know Rose is:



to know how to party in the music library.

To sew with the windows open until the sun comes up,

And jam until the sun goes down.

To be with Rose is:

like having a birthday party every day.

If you know Rose,

then you know Tony too.

And if you're lucky, you know them too:

To me, Rose is a walk in the woods,

a refreshment to the soul in every season.

Happy Birthday to my dear friend, Rose.

Poland is pink

A friend of mine says she sees people in color. I see places in color. Poland, you are pink.

Well, maybe you're only pink because I liked your pink church,

and your pink ballet school,

and one special friend who, if I too could see people in color, I would call pink. Thank you, Poland, for being Pink.

Maybe next time I am with you I can call you something more poetic like egg shell white, or sun-flower yellow. But for now, I like that you are a regular, beautiful pink.

Missing you.

I am missing you. So I send you this. Is it too simple? Do you not recognize Me here? Every day you walk here. Maybe today you will stop. To see Me.

"The worst we have done to God is to leave Him alone--why can't He return the compliment?"

-C.S. Lewis

What I love about you

Could I ever tire of you?





Impossible.