Tattered Edges and Fingerpringts

Tattered edges and fingerprints are the first thing that I see;
I hold in my hand, pictures so dear reflecting you and me.
Worn and torn, sprinkled with teardrop stains, these pictures with me go
Around the world and back again, through sunshine, rain or snow.

Tattered edges and fingerprints cover the one on the left,
The oldest of all, reflecting the most beautiful theft.
Stealing hearts of all that see timeless friendship in you and me,
Foam curlers, fleece jammies, and smiles, forever friends we will be.

Tattered edges and fingerprints create the most perfect frame
For our deep, brown, glistening eyes with just innocence to claim.
Our baby teeth smile so wide, reflecting on our little joys,
Games, movies, swimming and sleepovers, but not yet stinky boys.

Tattered edges and fingerprints and this time teardrop stains,
Accompany the one in the middle, a day not lived in vain.
Our bright smiles followed our tears, remembering a brother lost,
Holding tight to family and friends as Heaven's boundary was crossed.

Tattered edges and fingerprints in early stage to the right,
Much older then, than the ones on the left, but smiles just as bright.
Ringlets replace our curlers, long dresses replace our jammies,
A fun night filled with laughter and boys, moments you helped me seize. 

Tattered edges and fingerprints don't touch the one on the end
It portrays a recent time, a flat tire our plans did suspend.
Though our lips curve down, twinkling eyes radiate our laughter,
We found the spare, then with blank stares, wondered what to do after.

Tattered edges and fingerprints, display appreciation,
For good times had, hard times survived in this and other nations.
No longer children, innocence faded, dark eyes and bright smiles,
Will emanate and carry forth our friendship for miles and miles.

Tattered edges and fingerprints, the best part of these pictures,
Emblems of reflection, never being confined by strictures. 
In times of strife or loneliness, these pictures I hold in hand,
Portray the memories of you and me that will always stand.

True Valentine

John 3:16
For God
So loved the world
      that He gave His
     only
       begotten
      son so
         that whosoever
    believeth
        in Him shall
   Have everlasting life

This day comes every year, accompanied by the snow.  The windows are laced with thick layers of frost and the ground is sheltered by a blanket of white.  Each breath you take lingers in the air in a cloud of newly formed crystals.  The chill in the air encompasses us all turning our faces red and dry and our toes to sharp icicles.  We hope and pray for the sun, but even when it comes there is no reprieve.  Just enough light peaks through our frozen shield to keep away the darkest, coldest thoughts.  Its rays are seen but are not felt in this bitter time of year.  For the sun is on the other side and won't be back for quite some time.  It penetrates the surface of only one half at a time.  Now is not our turn, we only sit and freeze.  In this bitter agony we will wait for our sweet sunshine to return and melt away the ice. 
Harsh is the atmosphere and thick is the ice but on this day it seems as though its nothing short of paradise.  The storm in my heart that comes every year is raging more now than ever before.  No matter how sheltered, from the top to the bottom, I feel only the cold and nothing else.  A cage of ice has surrounded my heart and all forms of communication are down.  The rivers of blood that stream through my body have become thick and slow.  The ice stops their flow and leaves my heart there.  Alone and cold in that oppressive cage of ice, it starves and it freezes and begins to turn black.  My heart tries to reach through the windows of my soul.  But with every failed attempt that reach stretches farther away.  My eyes become glazed and weary fighting the storm within.  They seem to get darker with each day that passes by. 
Among the winter air there is a buzz humming of sweet and loving sentiments.  Expressions of love that hang frozen in the sky.  Hanging, drifting sentiments pouring raindrops of red and pink, hearts and roses, candy and chocolate onto the lovers below.  Everyone around seems to be showered with love and romance while I stand under my fierce cloud, pierced by freezing rain.  My gaze wanders and traces over all the lovers walking by.  But instead of love my eyes, hardened by the storm inside, see only loneliness.   A lover's romance is nothing short of a frigid reminder that it is not my turn.  Its not my turn to feel that warmth so I sit and freeze.  In this bitter agony I doubt my warm cloud of love will come and melt the wall around my heart.

This blizzard inside weakens my body and I feel the ice in my joints snap as I buckle to the ground.  While on my knees I offer a prayer as one last hope to find some warmth.   I beg and I plead for some sweet relief, for warmth and for sunshine and perhaps less grief.  On my knees down below I feel the ground soften.  The black ice around my eyes begins to melt and turns snow into rain as it pours down my cheeks.  This rain melts the snow in my mind and the ice in my veins and slowly but surely erodes the glacier that encompasses my heart.  With cleaner windows I can finally see, how much I've forgotten and how selfish I've been.  My cloud was only black because my vision was blurred, blurred by the ice that I put there myself.  But I can see now that I am never alone.  For my Father above loved me so dearly.  Even enough to send His son to die for me.  Not only to die but to teach and to comfort.  He taught of His gospel and of our loving Father.  He healed the sick, blind, and lepers and brought peace to the weary.  He knelt on his own as His body poured blood and He hung on that cross as His body poured life.  Down in the garden and up on that hill, every right to be hurt and every right to be sad He whispered a prayer for love and forgiveness though not for His own.  He offered that prayer for whom he bled, suffered, and died.  He offered that prayer for the ones that He loved.  That raging storm He endured, brought everlasting light.  If we seek Him and follow Him, He'll shine is light on us, offering warmth and reprieve form our own storms of grief. 
So I may not have a valentine who'll give me candy, flowers, or cards, but there are always two who give me so much more.  One gave His son and one gave His life.  They know me, they love me and their sun always shines.  They do not love only half at a time, but every part of everyone always and forever.  Even in the bitter agonies of cold and loneliness, their love shines through and will always come to melt away the ice. 


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