Opening Eyes




		WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 The Heart" July 25, 2001 Volume 1, Issue 28 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com -------------------------------------------------------- By subscription only! Welcome to your next issue of "WRITE 2 THE HEART" You are receiving this FREE newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded it to you. Unsubscribe instructions appear at the end of this newsletter. To subscribe send a blank email to: subscribe@write2theheart.com ----------------------------------------------------- Freely forward this ezine to as many people as you wish, just remember to send the entire issue. ----------------------------------------------------- Do you have a story you would like to share with our readers? We are looking for new writers. To submit, send your original story as an email along with a few sentences about yourself to: moderator@write2theheart.com Remember to keep it family friendly. ------------------------------------------------------- Today Rose shares a story of an awakening moment in her life. Aren't those moments best shared? ------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------- Opening My Eyes By: Rose Wade- Schambach --------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------- As part of my new millennium resolutions, I had resolved to spend more quality time with my children. That resolution was given the acid test today when my eight year old daughter Hannah wanted to ride bikes on the new walking trail near our house. My mind frantically searched to scrounge up a viable excuse to not make the excursion. I came up empty. We packed a meager lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches and Little Debbie snack cakes. Little Debbie and I go way back. There have not been very many setbacks in life that she has not comforted me through. Maybe today she would again provide the strength I needed. And so we embarked on our journey with a slight cool in the air under a cloudless azure sky and a huge amount of reckless abandon. Our dog Scout joined us as a traveling companion. After we actually got underway, and my trepidation began to subside, I realized something. Far too many times, I had allowed a pot roast in the oven; clothes that needed folding or a television rerun that screamed to be watched the second time cheat me from doing these kinds of things. We rode for quite a ways until our legs became tired and our lunch cried out to be eaten. And so we stopped at one of the picnic tables that still sported new smooth lumber not yet seasoned from too many rains and a relentless sun. We unpacked our bounty. These things I discovered all over again: I discovered how a simple ham and cheese sandwich can taste like a feast when eaten out in the brisk air after exercise. (Or was it just the company I was keeping?) I discovered that my senses seemed heightened out here in the open. My ears took in a symphony of sounds like the random rustling of leaves up in the treetops and the rhythmic cadence of Scout's panting. For the first time in a long time my eyes opened wide to the sights around me. Not just the vivid sky and pleasant landscape of trees and grass, but of the wonder before me. My little girl, so breathtakingly beautiful and innocent. I drank in her flawless complexion, her clear blue-gray eyes under a fringe of dark lashes. I noticed her unique wheat- colored hair and even her crooked front teeth that would require braces in a few years. How long had it been since I really gazed at her? And then we talked to each other. I mean, REALLY talked. Not just the hurried communications that occurred between us in a household where males outnumbered us. We gabbed and giggled like only two females can. Somewhere along the line, our conversation transformed from staccato sounding remarks to a song. Then we started swapping stories. I told her stories about her Great Grandmother Sarah Jane, half Choctaw Indian who rode bareback in the Honey Island Swamp and a little girl I once knew who was eight years old too but not always very brave. (How did she know I was talking about myself?) Then as she shared with me all her eight-year-old fears and secrets, I really listened. And I think right then and there I almost felt the approval of a nearby angel. Today, I realized that I was given several priceless gifts. A chance to open my eyes and look around and peer past the blinders. A chance to spend time with a beautiful young woman who will only be eight years old one time. A time to open up the portals of my heart and let out pent-up fears from long ago. A chance to savor life for just a little while. And should you happen to be on the bike trails next Saturday, you will be sure to recognize me. I'll be the one with my eyes wide open. I think even Little Debbie would approve! Rose Wade-Schambach schwadeton @ yahoo.com -------------------------------------------------------- Rose wears many hats these days. In addition to her "busting at the seams" household of blending twelve children (her six and his six), she teaches creative writing and works as a student services advisor at a technical college near her home in Marietta, Georgia. She is also currently writing a book of some of her adventures and enjoys bargain hunting, especially when she and her best friend Cheryl get together! -------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------- FROM OUR READERS --------------------------------------------------------- That we would all pray to be used by God! Thanks Pat for reminding us. Jill ***** Short but sweet, good advice, loved your newsletter. Dave --------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner --------------------------------------------------------- Ever since Chris and Nicole told me they were coming home in November, I have been looking forward to Christmas with growing excitement. This will be the first Christmas with all four grandsons, sons and daughter-in-laws together. I love stuffing stockings and have been picking up stocking stuffers every time I see some cute little thing. I got to looking at all I bought the other day and I am going to have to change from stockings to Christmas barrels. I know I can stencil names and designs on them; how do I display them on the mantel? God Bless Cheryl --------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 2001 Write 2 The Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual authors or copyright owners. ------------------------------------------------------------ All subscriptions sent to your email free of charge.