Heart Hope by Olga

  I walk the path often beside the sensory garden and see the plant stages during all seasons. After the winter, the pitiful little twigs are barren and lifeless next to the sign deeming it to be a rose bush. At that time it is difficult to determine if the shrub will bear leaves and flowers in the near future, but the label lets you know that there is hope for the dormant plant. And since I have passed the plant for many years, I have observed the rose bush in full bloom, coming back from its sleeping state. Christians too are labeled. It could be from the cross that hangs around your neck or the fish that rides on the back of the car or even the fact that you attend church. For some it is relatively easy to gaze upon their life with attitudes, actions and words and readily see the qualities and characteristics that represent the label. For others you look at the sign and question if it is really true, because if the label had not been there, it would have been hard to tell

We should have known something was wrong. Only one time out of the bed and into the den before settling down for the night should have provided us with a reason to check on Griffin, but we didn't until hours later. At eleven o'clock Margaret turned the doorknob, but it was locked. The old fashioned means of using a straightened clothes hanger produced no successful results. Neither did knocking forcefully on the door and shouting Griffin's name. Was he alright in there? We could tell from the living area that the light was on in his room, but there was no response of any sort. The last resort was to send Grumps over the railing of the deck, onto the roof to take off the screen and climb through the window. The miracle of the night is that for the first time in months, the window had been cracked open, by Margaret who is normally cold or the devised rescue plan would never have worked. Once through the window and the door opened, we figured out what had occ

Thomas was an early walker. He didn't want anything to do with crawling. Upright was his preference--standing, jumping or taking steps was the way he wanted to move. Because he started taking steps at 10 months it was all hands on deck to assist and make sure he didn't get hurt. First we would take turns holding his little chubby hands as he walked everywhere. Then two of us would sit on the floor several feet apart so he could practice within our reach. As he gained confidence he would toss our hands aside and venture off for a few unassisted steps. We were always close by to protect him just in case he lost his balance or stumbled. Now he is quite independent and we only have to watch out for hazards in his path. Even as an adult we have to sometimes be careful where we walk. During the winter months I am always diligently watching out for icy patches that might cause me to slip. And when walking in the snow I wear boots with deep treads to help stabilize my st