Death Has No Victory

Death Has No Victory

I still see the man who raised me when I look in my father’s eyes. At 86 years young, you can see in his face how much time has passed and how much life he has lived. Yet along with the years, Parkinson’s disease has slowly, but steadily, stolen even more strength from my father’s body. He walks with a symptomatic shuffle. His words are few and he is slow to express his thoughts. My father battles every day to accomplish the daily activities of life, yet when I look in his eyes, I still see the dad of my childhood. I still see the same eyes of love and welcome.

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Celebrating New Life

Celebrating New Life

4:43 am. The window is cracked and I can hear the sounds of baby birds chirping. It is an early alarm clock but one that puts a smile on my face. In a half foggy, semi-awake, slumber I started to think about a similar sound; the sound of little fuzzy yellow ducklings and then, of course, Easter. Easter thoughts bring me joy, so I don’t mind at all that it’s only 4:43 am. Don’t you just love when you are half awake and half asleep how your mind travels to the strangest places? I am grateful this morning that it wandered to such a happy place.

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