Our Book

I wrote to you in a small red journal

Its pages bound in leather and written upon with my ramblings

The occasional sentence was scribbled through because I did not know how to express-

myself or what we share in words

The journal made its way to you

Across an ocean

a time zone

a chapter of "us"  had been written-handed to you and then back to me

And the tears dried onto the lines, smearing the blue into the black ink

Now we share an apartment and a life

We share the ups and downs of this world we live in and the small one we have created

Daily we choose to learn more of the friends around us

Their names: Sacrifice, Respect, and Love

We have found that these three friends of ours are inseparable

One never leaves the other

All three must remain-as if stuck together like glue

As I have fallen lately

Become bruised and tired

You have picked me up and carried me

For every page written so far, this chapter has defined the beauty of true love

It has been through the downs that I have realized the blessing-

of you- of us-of the author of our story



"Every Little Bit Helps"

His face wasn't one that I would have noticed in a crowd, nor was it one that I would have felt the comfort to approach and strike up a conversation. His face matched his shirt in that they both were covered in dirt and grease. As I sat and stared at the man holding his makeshift sign made of cardboard, a black marker and string I found myself overwhelmed with questions. His sign simply read 'Every Little Bit Helps'. Those questions, as they fell into my mind as quickly as the rain was falling outside, moved me to tears.  "Who is this man?" "Why is he standing on the street?" "What does he need?" The question that seemed to whisper to me all on its own was, "What little bit am I doing to help?" I realized that this question not only applied to this homeless man, but it applied to everyone in need around me. Some needs aren't as obvious as the homeless man holding his sign on the corner in the pouring rain. No, but I suppose all of us have carried a sign at some point in our lives.  It may not have been made of cardboard or string, but it was there. We were waiting for someone to notice. A single mother - 'Every little bit helps.' The family in your neighborhood with five mouths to feed, but one small income- 'Every little bit helps.' The man known for "having it all together", but depressed beyond repair beneath the surface- 'Every little bit helps'. As I stared at the man's sign through my tears, I quickly found that the light had turned green and that my husband and I were driving away to our home.  Just like that, we had moved on and the man remained standing where he had been.  I would love to say that we turned around and gave the man a ride to a nearby restaurant and fed him and bought him clothes. We didn't. I vowed to not forget that man, though, and he is the reason that I am writing a blog that may be read by none, few, or hundreds.  I hope that by using the art of writing, that I may hold myself accountable to take notice of the signs around me. I want my tears to move me to action.  I want what I see in front of me to not disappear in my rearview mirror. Here is to opportunities that are to be taken and not passed up. Every little bit of love, compassion, sacrifice, grace, and giving what you can helps.'Every little bit helps'.