Archive for January, 2010

The photo doesn’t do it justice, but I’ll post it anyway; because the Wolf Moon hung in the night sky, so close that I thought I could reach out and touch it. I tried, but it seemed that my expectations were a bit beyond my reach; so I just sat in its light on a brittle winter night and was drawn in by its beauty until the cold, alone, commanded my attention. I scurried in to warm myself by the fire and left the moon behind — or so I thought. What has become apparent in the last 24 hours is that although I failed to touch the moon, the moon did not fail to touch me.

I’ve always been a lover of moonlight, but in recent years, my relationship with that mirror in the sky has changed and grown until our friendship has become an intimate one. I suppose this is why I would be drawn outdoors in ten-degree weather with the hope of taking a picture and capturing the moment.  I understand now that there is a story to be told, and I will tell it to you soon.

This week has been a difficult one in our small community. A young teacher in Ivy’s school suddenly was gone — dying a week after being diagnosed with leukemia. These sorts of things shake folks all the way to their core. We don’t expect young people just to die. And so his fellow teachers, with their own mortality staring them right in the face, took on the task of comforting their students. Kids on the brink of entering adulthood have such wild emotions on a normal day that the loss of a teacher — the loss of their sense of immortality — unleashes a torrent of grief that is like no other. On Thursday it would have been Mr. Bender’s 35th birthday. The students, looking for a way to send birthday wishes, wore purple as a way of saying, “we remember.” ‘There is hope,’ I thought, when I heard of this gesture. What a kind sort of thing for our children to do! And I thought of the people I’ve loved who have gone before me, and I remembered the lessons I’ve learned from their passing. It is not our job to do something for the people who die. That is beyond our scope. It is our job to go on living and to teach our children how to sing in spite of their sadness. Goodbye, Mr. Bender. Your students will sing, because they will remember how much you loved life.

Only a couple of days ago, I was saying to my friend, Eileen, that we hadn’t had much rain or snow this winter. Well, we’ve had enough today to make up for months of dry weather! And here we are, still in January, and the temperature this morning was 57 degrees when I woke up at 5:30AM! What has me dancing in the rain? Well, for one thing, it’s kind of nice to have a little break from the brittle cold of winter. And then there’s that scent in the breeze. What is it? Spring! I know it’s not here to stay, but there’s just enough of the fresh smell of Spring today to remind us that winter won’t last forever. So dance away! Let the wind blow! Celebrate the seasons that remind us of how life is always changing. Dance!

“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.”

— Thich Nhat Hanh

You hear people all the time talking about having SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). They miss the light of summer, and some fall into depression during the short days of winter. We tend to look for warmth and light in the outside world; and if that is our perspective, I suppose winter comes up short. The beauty of winter is that it sends us inward. If we can get beneath our own skin, our own flesh and blood, our own emotional response to life, we can find the place within that holds the Light that is our essence. The journey to access this light is much easier during the cold, dark days of winter. We are less distracted then than at more colorful times of the year. Take a break from the cold winter and find that place deep inside your own being. Let the Light radiate! Share warmth in your touch! Let light pour out through your eyes and in your words and bring hope to all you meet. Let your Light shine!

That title is for my grandson, Oskar — he knows the book!

Last night was an awesome drum circle sponsored by Lehigh Valley Drum Circle! There must have been 70+ people there, and all the funds from the circles (3 during the day) and auctions and raffles went to support Step By Step, a local agency that provides transitional and life skills services to young adults. How often do you get to have a great time and do some good all wrapped up in one package? My hands are still buzzing! Good times!


Came down

Landing softly

Like dew

Like a whisper

Of hope

That made

The land sparkle

In silence

And Peace.

© Pamela Stead Jones 2010

Ivy Christina arrived on the planet! She landed between the blizzard and the snowstorm, and our lives have never been the same since that day. It’s hard to believe that the time has flown by so quickly, and that tiny, helpless baby is now a beautiful young teen. We love you , Ivy — you’ve changed our lives in so many ways! Happy Birthday!


Like falling rain

Brought life

To my soul.


Like night breeze

Brought life

To my spirit.


Like bread

Brought strength

To go on.


Like wealth


In my wake.

© Pamela Stead Jones 2010