GOD COULD HAVE

God could have painted all of it
in simple black and white
Or gave us only color
of a golden sunlight

He could have made flowers with
no bloom or no scent
But He wanted us to know
they were heaven sent

He could have left the trees in the
state of winter
But instead he gave them leaves
to shade us from the weather

He could have made the sky
as dark as miner's coal
But instead he made it blue
with hues of kings gold

If you only look around and
consider it all
How can your heart say
there really is no God

©2010 Mikki Jo Howard

In Honor Of My Dear Mother

MOM

How wonderful it is to be reminded of special moments with you, Mom. The beauty of a sunrise reminds me of your love for God's beauty. A sunset reminds me of your beauty. An intricate woven dishcloth makes me think of your amazing talents of weaving and knitting and other primitive crafting. As simple and diverse come together to make a beautiful masterpiece, so was you my Mother, simple, yet intricately diverse, in your character, your love for family, your faith and your strength.
You had the gentleness of a newborn babe, and the courage of a highly decorated warrior. You were tender, but stern. You were tolerant and open-minded, but very opinionated. You were dedicated. You could be meek and mild mannered, but turn into a roaring lion when it came to your children.
When I hear a hymn I wish it was you singing. When I see a rainbow I wish you were standing next to me. When I pray I ask God to kiss you for me and tell you I love you. When I dream, I hope it is of you. When my grandbabies say something cute, I hope you hear. When I learn a new crochet stitch or knit a new pair of socks I want to say, "Look Mom!" I hope you see.
When spring boasts its new life and color, I hear your laughter. When fall blankets us with warm hues I see your eyes. When winter brings blowing snows, I feel your warmth. When the gentle summer evening brings a welcome breeze, I feel your breath upon my cheek.
The day you left I felt as if the world should cease to exist. I was shocked to see that birds still sang, flowers continued to bloom, and the sun still rose and set. But now I see beautiful reminders of you in each one, and I'm thankful for that.
I honor your memory today Mom, not because it's a special day, but because it's another day without you.
© 2010 Mikki Jo Howard

WHAT KIND OF MAN

WHAT KIND OF MAN

He missed his baby's birth
and the chance to hold her close
He missed her first words
but this is what he chose

He was nowhere near
when his son graduated
But a simple letter home
and the son was elated

An old woman grows more frail
as she offers one more prayer
She dies all alone
Her grand son isn't there

A young Mother struggles
with car and home repairs
Left all alone
with a burden she can't share

Still yet a husband sits
with his wife as they grieve
There son wasn't there
to fill the empty seat

What kind of man
could be so cruel
To abandon a loved one
why he must be a fool

What kind of man you ask
could live such a life
Our American Soldier is who
your freedom takes sacrifice

© 2010 Mikki Jo Howard

LOVE SONG

Holding close to my heart
the warmth of by gone days
Only letting go awhile
to glimpse Heaven's Gates.

Taking in the fragrant breeze
that dances with the oak
Sun upon my face so warm
I wander down the road.

Home is where my heart is
I long no more to roam
Only life's breath holds me
'Til God shall call me home.

Time is not my friend
for it holds me prisoner
Stealing precious moments
that could be spent with her.

Songbirds sing to me
a love song sweet
Telling me to rise
"Rise, to your feet!".

"Eternity awaits you friend"
the melody sang loud
"Come home my son,
she's waiting for you now."
©2010 Mikki Jo Howard

IN THE LORD'S BOSOM

IN THE LORD'S BOSOM

The road was winding and winding, my heart was beating faster. I was about to drive down the narrow road that my
Daddy used to walk down when he was a child living at the end of the holler, up a little creek, in the shelter of an Eastern Kentucky mountain.
My eyes couldn't take it all in fast enough. My throat had a knot in it the size of a baseball I believe. I felt the tears stinging my eyes as I blinked them away, because I didn't want to miss a single thing. It's still fresh in my mind, the beauty and the feeling that I had finally come full circle. I was back where I belonged. Where my heart had craved to be since I was a child. But I never understood it, til my feet stood in the fresh green thick clover on the bank of Frozen Creek in Knott County Kentucky. My heart was content. If ever I felt a need, a craving, something left undone or unsaid. Those emotions were all satisfied in that moment. I was home. I knew that this is where I was supposed to be. God had indeed marked this date on the calendar for me to be standing exactly where my feet were planted. As I stood and looked at those mountains around me, I felt a security that I'd never experienced before. I explained this to my Daddy and he said, "Yes honey, I know how you felt. Like you were cradled in the Lord's bosom." And yes, that's exactly how I felt.

Having never been here before it's funny how I felt like I had left something here, and I had this day came back to reclaim it. That feeling came from the deep bond I have with my Daddy, and my family roots that are still deep in the heart of these mountains. I know that who I am, began many years ago, with blood, sweat and tears here in the beloved mountains of Kentucky.
I've heard many stories from my Grandma, Grandpa and my Dad and Mom of their lives here. Precious stories of hard times, but happy times.
Many years ago, my family took the great Ship Mary and Ann from England to the Jamestown River to escape religious persecution. From there, two children were born. One a brave warrior, a man of honor who helped to attain my freedom during the Revolutionary War. The other, a kind and patient woman. They met, fell in love, had their own children, and eventually made their home in beloved Kentucky.
The more I have learned of my family and their past, the more I have learned about myself and who I am. And I am thankful for the sacrifices made. I can never repay the debt that I owe to those that went before me. But I have walked in the shadow of their precious footsteps, down a dusty winding road, that lovingly led me back home. Home truely is where the heart is.

© 2010 Mikki Jo Howard

DADDY'S HANDS

The path that lay ahead was insulated from strangers, and foreigners. At least for awhile.
The mountains wrapped around me like a security blanket,
I felt as if I was in the Lord's bosom, or my Mama's womb.
I would have objected if I'd known what the meaning of change would bring with it.
Many a loved one buried in these mines forever, for simply trying to
put food on the table. Sincerity was far from the coal company's heart, for
his heart was blacker than the coal that he stole from us.
Greed, selfishness, and the love of money was the root of our misfortune. The greed of the coal company and the love of it's money took a toll on the young man from Knott County Kentucky.
To furnish a young family man with a mining position, brought a crooked grin upon the coal company's
face. Months later, that young man aged far beyond his years, walks with a limp, is missing a
finger, and carries with him a cough that will carry him to his grave.
The crooked grin widens upon the face of the black hearted thief, as he watches the young
man limp down the dirt path heading home.
Greeted by his family, a smile almost erases the pain from the coal miner's tired and worn face.
Little hands reach up, holding the man's face between tiny palms.
The young man pulls the little hands to his lips,
gently kissing them. He made a promise to the black hearted thief, right then and there. "You
shall not dirty these little man's hands with your greed. By the grace of God, he shall not know
the sorrows and pain of a cold dark mine."
The young man kept his promise. Those little hands are today, calloused and worn after years
of their own hard work.
But never did they give up a dollar, to that black hearted thief.

© 2010 Mikki Jo Howard