Create

They want me to create something pretty, something sweet. Ringing melodies to fill their rooms.A clean, clear stroke, one bow, and all these strings.Pushing, prying, and pulling on me.They want me to create,But it's not in me. This solumn sound these pure clean things.

Coffee Cups and Conversations

Do they seem to you to go hand in hand? For me there seems to be a strong tie between the two. If I were to ask you to coffee, I would certainly be seeking a conversation to accompany us. The coffee would simply be a means to an end. I would agree there are times when a good cup of coffee drank alone or in silence can be an end of it's own. I suppose these same thoughts could be transfered to a beer, cigar, or even an ocassional joint ( just kidding hope that made you smile), but tonight coffee is on my mind.



My favorite cup of coffee would not be based on it's flavore, but rather the conversation or atmosphere it was accompanied by. My earliest memories of coffee are not based upon taste either. I have strong memories of this liquid and they are from a time when I had never tasted coffee.



As a little girl I would wake up and go to mom and dad's room, pulling myself up and over the edge of their bed, I would make my way inbetween them and rest my head on Dad's shoulder. The smell of His steaming black coffee was unmistakable. Mom would have some creamer in her's, but Dad's was always a pure undiluted brew.



There was something I respected about that, but I couldn't bring myself to drink it down. Even to this day I find a black cup of coffee more honest than the creamy sweet cup I am drinking now.

Spinnin, Laughin, Dancin

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IXiRuSIXbns



Wonder who she is.



There once was a small girl in my life and she happened to be seven. I had hoped to have her as my sister one day, but she was taken some where else. I remember listening to this song with my mom, as she cried. You see her name was Alicia (the small girl) and she was startling to see. Something in the way she moved. Always a prance never a walk. She would make her way from place to place on her tip toes and then suddenly turn on her heals.



When I first met Alicia, her teeth were black and her hair was a few inches long. What would startle you is not the unusual appearance, but rather her beauty, her hunger for life, and her desire to love and be loved.

It was not something she had always had. Love had been stolen from her and she was robbed at a young age.

When the social workers found her, she was starving to death. In the literal sense, not the one that bratty little kids use " I'm starving to death Mom can we get some McDonald's?" It's simply not our reality, but it was hers. For many years she lived in this reality, so different from the one she sees now.

She was scripted into my life when my grandparents (Mimi and Papa) took her in as their foster child. She began to love she began to receive love. Love began to bear the burden of this small girl. She began see the world with eyes wide open.


Spinning, Laughing, Dancing......

Maybe we should try.

Are you starving to death?

1 COR. 7 "Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things"

More Than I Could Say.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oo9zo8JJcqk&feature=related

There is something frantic, that wrapped its-self around my unsuspecting mind this morning. When I looked in the mirror I half expected to see a reflection that was not my own. I feel I have the mind of middle aged brunette from the 60's. If my body followed suite I would have curlers in and crazy cat eye glasses.

A bit frightening, don't you think. Sure am glad my outside appearance doesn't suffer such a drastic change as my mind.

Things are settling down now. My startled-ness was a reaction to my sudden realization of how much I have to accomplish. It has slowly, over the past few hours sifted out into something quite good.

I think the word is motivation.

-Jonlyn

A Love That Runs Deep.

Today I sat in a small cabin. My grandparents bought it about a year ago, when they found out Papa's brain tumor had returned. We were told he had three months to live.

I remember the day Jenn called me. I was sitting in the Great Hall with Hannah Murphy and Ruth. They watched as my face melted into a blank stare devoid of the slightest emotion. I can still hear Ruth's voice ring out the question "Jonlyn, are you alright?" There was nothing I could say. I was hardly breathing much less forming sentences.

You see three months is a good amount of time to Cherish. The only problem, the thing that was wrenching at my heart was the fact that the next three months of my life were devoted to Covenant College in Lookout Mountain GA.

Today a year away from that place I talked with him. Thom Hughes, my wise grandfather. I learned a little more about his and Mimi's life. It has been a beautiful one to say the least. It has been inspiring....

-Jonlyn

*SMILE*

Refreshing........

Two Friends....

Cloves in the garden.........

Quiet Walks.....

Simple....

Telling wine.......

Lovely...

Cold songs...........

Lowen*Me

Sienna*Me

Did i tell you that I love her?

Are there really any words?

~Jonnie