The power of words is amazing, but the power of love even more so! 

The First Sunday in Advent

ALMIGHTY God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life, in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the quick and [the]* dead, we may rise to the life immortal, through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, now and ever. Amen.

Family Memory's

 This may sound like a drippy beginning, I love my family! There a lot of fun, always ready for the true spirit of fun.  Now for the story which was printed of us in my Dad's company's newsletter.  I have changed the names in the article below.

What happens when you combine a group of children with a healthy interest in science, nature, and cooking with a group of adults who dare to step up to the plate for a team-building challenge?  Well, you get the G&TA Fear Factor Team, consuming chocolate- covered cicadas courtesy of Luis Gutierrez and his children (along with Mom’s gracious support).  And to think it all started with an article about a man in Chicago getting sick from eating too many cicadas!  As a result of this lively departmental conversation and the fact that Andrew Wright said he would eat a cicada if circumstances permitted …well, the rest is history.  A recipe book on cicadas sent home to Luis as a joke turned into something quite different when he brought in a tray of the chocolate-covered cicadas this week courtesy of Rachel, Benjamin, Alene, Mich, and Luis Jr., who wanted to show off their budding culinary skills, which included gathering the cicadas, boiling them, pulling of their little heads, legs and wings, and then roasting the tasty morsels before a dip in melted chocolate.  After consuming some of these chocolate delights for dessert, the children naturally wanted to share the results with the so-called “instigator” (Diana Smith). And since Diana has a memory like an elephant, she immediately recalled Andrew Wright advising of his dietary interest in cicadas, and as there were plenty of little “candies,” it was obvious that sharing was in order.  Andrew (upon observing the tray of enticing cicadas) immediately suggested a “team building” –voluntary, of course.  The cicadas were consumed with relish - just like on TV show Fear Factor –without the grand prize, of course.  Andrew did mention something about this becoming an annual event.  Guess we’ll have to wait another 17 years for a repeat of the cicada dish.

   Well that is part of the picture, but behind the scenes, there is more.  Number one, little Anna (not mentioned in the article above) loved picking up the little cicadas and putting them in the bucket and I did not.  However, I did help in all aspects of there making except the boiling.  I hid in my room.  We packaged them up very fancily in a little green and gold candy box.  Benjamin drew a cicada, cut it out and on this, we wrote for whom they were intended. I wish I had been there when the tasty little morsels were handed to Diana by my dad.  “Oh how sweet of the children,” and then “Why are you grinning?” and then “What are they?” Seven people consisted of the G&TA Fear Factor Team, and only one of them came back for seconds.  He liked them!  (Not including my dad, because he liked them too, actually everyone in my family did.)     

When it is Night

Awhile back, I wrote this poem and while far from great poetry, the words are still as poignant as in the day I wrote them.  The words shall speak if not the style.    

 

Sometime in the Night

Do you hear a little whisper
When your head is on your pillow?
Do you hear a little voice
Haunting you with tiny words,

Or little things you’ve done,

Until you toss in misery,

Regretting what you’ve said and done?

You wonder whether you should tell

And in the morning make amends.

You squelch as best you can the voice

And calm yourself, tomorrow is another day,

And stop your busy consciousness

That whispers sometime in the night.

In the hectic morning hours

And the rapid afternoon,

In the evening a chat or game,

Or a fanciful dream you weave

And the little voice is drowned,

In the multitude of other cares.

Forgotten the promise of last night,

But when again you seek your bed

And in the silence of the darkness

Comes again the lingering cry,

“Tomorrow,” you moan in agony

Let me sleep tonight in peace.

Persistent is the call, which pleads

Sometime in the night.