Rick brought home Sophie a treat…from the grocery store…and not for eating…not yet, anyway. :)

While Rick was putting up our Christmas lights Sunday afternoon, he spotted someone watching him…

Thanks for sharing this mantra, Jesse:

http://moonlightspiral.blogspot.com/2008/09/mantra-my-feet-connect-with-earth.html

Mantra
My Feet Connect With the Earth

My feet connect with the Earth.
I inhabit my personal space.
I am a distinct entity in rapport with the life around me.
My individuality emerges in the context of the larger environment.
I know where my place is in the world.
I can deal with life, with whatever shows up.
I am no pushover, my roots are deep.I am responsive, not rigid.
I can move in any direction at any time.
I can sense when something is not right for me.
I can say no or yes with clarity and conviction.
I can feel in my body all my experience and what I have learned.
I don’t need permission to take up space.
I can breath fully; I don’t have to shrink and apologize for being.
I can heartily expand and meet the world with joy.

My Creations www.earthmamahyde.etsy.com
Homeschool Blog www.spiralpathways.blogspot.com
Wild Woman Blog www.moonlightspiral.blogspot.com

By Kristie Burns
www.thedreamangels.com
www.EarthSchooling.com

‘Twas the night before Solstice
and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
not even our pet mouse

Knitted wool stockings
were hung with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas
soon would be there

The children were tucked
in organic cotton sheets,
The air filter blocking
pollution from the streets.

While mama stayed up
to make handmade gifts
I co-slept with the kids
and watched auras shift.

When out in the herb garden
arose such a clatter
I sprung out of our futon
to see what was the matter!

Away to the solar panels
I flew like a flash.
They took me hours to install,
I hoped they hadn’t crashed.

The crystals we’d laid out
to absorb the moonlight
Sparkled like fairydust
and blocked my sight.

When, what to my
wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh
without any reindeer.

At that moment I knew
that the little old man
Had received my last letter
so bold and so grand

Could you stop using reindeer?
Last year I wrote him,
And enclosed
with the note a PETA pin.

As he neared the house
in his all-wooden sleigh
I noticed it was powered
by wheatgrass and hay.

Ostheimer! Kinderkram!
Stockmar! Fair Trade!
Don’t bother landing
if the toys aren’t handmade!

“Hey Arriana,” I called
to my wife with chagrin,”
With that body mass
do you think he’s vegetarian?”

She paused only a moment
from her crafting and said,
“One moment dear!
I’m shaping this gol-darn Waldorf doll’s head!”

On our roof I strained
to hear the ole boy
But I’d recently
insulated it with soy.

So I drew in my hand
and was turning around,
When in through the front door
came St. Nick with a bound.

The Advent wreath
had caught in his hair
As I said, “Why in the world
did you enter from THERE?”

The soot in your chimney
contains poisons galore.
You should consider
the environment more.

But he was dressed in fur
from his head to his foot
So I said, “Look whose
talking about my soot!”

A bundle of felt he had
flung on his back.
“I hope you like handiwork,”
he said with a laugh.

His eyes – how they twinkled!
His dimples were treats!
His cheeks reminded me
of when I dye silk with beets.

He must be of the
choleric type I mused.
It’s a good thing with
lavender the stockings I infused.

With his fur boots
he slipped on the bamboo wood floor.
I offered him Arnica and
then closed the front door.

After all that I’d paid
to the energy company this year
I didn’t want one bit of
that cold air in here.

He had a broad face
and a little round belly
I asked him,
“Have you seen your naturopath lately?”

He was so chubby and plump
I worried for his health
But I laughed when I saw him
in spite of myself.

He spoke not a word,
but went straight to task,
Needle-felting dragons
and weaving a mask.

He knitted a pure cotton sweater
and two pairs of mittens,
Then picked up a knife
and carved 2 wood kittens.

He finger-knitted
an entire nativity scene.
With the most amazing skill
I’d ever seen!

When he sprang
from his seat on the floor and arose
I yelled, “Arianna – watch -
there he goes!”

With the unfinished doll
she was struggling to sew,
Arriana went to watch
him out the window.

And I heard him exclaim
as he drove out of sight!”
Arriana, my dear,
the stitches are too tight!”

It’s a Sunday evening, & my mother has been dead for two weeks, 1 day. I can’t believe that time has seemly sped up again. From the time I officially heard from my dad she passed, ’til the time we left to come back to Montréal, time seemed to stand still. What would feel like hours would only be minutes. Now time seems to be back at that steady where-did-the-week-go pace as we slowly fall into life’s normal routine again.

I look at the pile of envelopes on the floor. About 10 first class air mail envelopes, all addressed all over the world, but mostly going to family in the Philippines. I can’t help but think this is where it all began, some 36+ years ago. A letter in an envelope just like this starting the friendship & then the romance that would become my parent’s marriage after three years of correspondence across the world. Now, these letters sit here with the terrible news that she is no longer with us in body. I found this handful of addresses from relatives and it is the only way we can get word to them. I hate that it has taken me two weeks to sit down and write them. When my grandmother died in 2003, my mother got the news 6 weeks after her passing. It appears that this will be the same timing.

I am also filled with hope that this correspondence will help me get to know the family I do not know. I am lucky to be surrounded by the support of family on my father’s side but I have always had a longing to know the other side.

It has been a touch & go weekend for me emotionally. It doesn’t help that it has rained every Saturday since my mother’s passing. It is the little things that draw me to sadness. Like seeing her favourite treats at the Asian grocery store or hearing her favourite hymn at Mass today. Yet, I dream of her & that is very comforting. She is already sending me messages that way. But sometimes I wake from dreams and think, it was just a dream right? She is still here…

Yet, she is still here. I merely have to ask for her guidance, and I get it. The process, continues…

I was honoured to choose two of the readings for her funeral: Song of Songs 8:6-7 & Romans 6:3-9

Song of Songs 8:6-7
Place me like a seal over your heart,
Like a seal on your arm;
For love is as strong as death,
Its jealousy unyielding as the grave.
It burns like blazing fire,
Like a mighty flame.
Many waters cannot quench love;
Rivers cannot wash it away.
If one were to give
All the wealth of his house for love,
It would be utterly scorned.

Psalm 23
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Romans 6:3-9
do you not know that as many of us as were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death?
Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.
For if we have been united together in the likeness of His death, certainly we also shall be in the likeness of His resurrection,
knowing this, that our old man was crucified with Him, that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves of sin.
For he who has died has been freed from sin.
Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with Him,
knowing that Christ, having been raised from the dead, dies no more. Death no longer has dominion over Him.

John 6:51-59
I am the living bread which came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever; and the bread that I shall give is My flesh, which I shall give for the life of the world.”
The Jews therefore quarreled among themselves, saying, “How can this Man give us His flesh to eat?”
Then Jesus said to them, “Most assuredly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in you.
Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day.
For My flesh is food indeed,[a] and My blood is drink indeed.
He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in him.
As the living Father sent Me, and I live because of the Father, so he who feeds on Me will live because of Me.
This is the bread which came down from heaven—not as your fathers ate the manna, and are dead. He who eats this bread will live forever.”
These things He said in the synagogue as He taught in Capernaum.

As Long As you Remember Me

As long as you remember me,
my memory will live on.
My spirit will be there with you
at every breaking dawn.
I’ll sing to you through birds in spring
and whisper through the trees,
I’ll bring you gentle comfort
with a warm, caressing breeze.
As long as you remember me,
my love will fill your heart
and help to ease the sorrow
that you feel while we’re apart.
With thoughts of me,
perhaps you’ll see the wonder of each day,
the joy of sunlit afternoons,
and nature’s grand display.
As long as you remember me,
I always will be near
to lend you sweet tranquility
as night time stars appear.
The bond that we have shared will be
a link from me to you
to give you hope for brighter days
and strength to see you through.

Catalina Satentes Gador Cleveland
December 24, 1953- October 25, 2008

(This poem was included on a In Memory bookmark by one of her friends at church. I am not sure of the author, I am assuming her friend penned it. It is beautiful, regardless).



Catalina Gador “Lynn” Cleveland, age 54, Windsor, passed away on Saturday, October 25th, 2008, at the Hants Community Hospital, Windsor.
Born on December 24th, 1953, in Leyte, Phillipines, she was the daughter of the late Eutguiano and Crispina Gador.

Lynn had studied in Manila Institution of Technology, was a Telegraphist, and had attended Teachers College, all in the Phillipines. She was a member of St. John the Evangelist Church, Windsor, a member of the Catholic Womens League, and was an avid worker and supporter of the church. Lynn immigrated to Canada with her husband, in September 1976. She was a stay at home mother, a very devoted wife, mother and grandmother and will be sadly missed by her family and friends.

She is survived by her husband of 33 years, Jerone Elwood Cleveland; daughter, Leilani (Rick) Deveau, Montreal; sons, Lyndon Cleveland and Adrian Cleveland, both at home; granddaughter, Sophie Deveau; sister, Edna Gador, Phillipines; brother, Gabriel, Manila, Phillipines.

Besides her parents, Eutquiano and Crispina Gador; she was predeceased by sister, VicVic.

Visitation will be held 7-9 p.m. Monday, October 27th,; also, 2-4 and 7-9 p.m. Tuesday, October 28th, in Lindsay’s Windsor Funeral Home, 194 King Street, Windsor.

Funeral Mass will be held at 10 a.m. Wednesday, October 29th, 2008, in St. John the Evangelist Roman Catholic Church, 339 King Street, Windsor, with the Rev. Father Michael J. Walsh officiating. Interment will be in the St. John’s Roman Catholic Cemetery, Wiley Ave., Windsor.

Family flowers only,

donations in memory of Lynn may be made to:

St. John the Evangelist Roman Catholic Church

(Heating System Fund)