dandelions

I can, at last, publicly proclaim that I will be an aunt. and I think it is safe to say, though immodest, that I will be the greatest aunt to ever be an aunt. I was made for this. the little offspring will call me Auntie Meezy, or Auntie Snakie, and I shall make them weird, cultured, and loved. Truly though, I have long awaited this season of life, and I am so delighted at the honor of being an aunt.
I want Luke, Lauren, and Baby to move to Marion. I got a little megalomanious and tried everything in my power to make it happen. It didn't work (or hasn't yet at least), which goes to show how little power I have. I had to pray for God to humble me and lead those johnsies wherever they will serve Him best-- I had to pray that God would let His will be done even if it doesn't match my will, because His plans are higher than mine. So, I wrote a corny poem about it.

on letting go
I have a tendency to grab
onto fragile things
like stems of dandelion seeds
I hold them tightly
block the breeze
worry they'll be swept
from my tightly clenched fist

my crushing grip achieves
more damage than my fear
disfiguring the treasures
that I hold so dear
but when I allow the wind
to whip them from my hand
I watch them
spreading, rooting, flourishing

when I've let them be
I find them growing up all round me
little yellow jewels
the wind served well
that wouldn't have ever grown
if my hands had not let go