Heaven's New Angel - Crystal Michelle Fallin

I will always Love you baby girl!  You are a part of my heart.  You were a beautiful free spirit that always walked to the beat of your own drum.  Heaven has a new angel tonight.  I know you are with your grandma at heaven's eastern gate. She said she would meet you there someday.  You are now in God's loving care. 

Loving Memory

Crystal Michelle Fallin

June 19, 1984 -August 18, 2019

Plants in the Mist

The plant grows in the mist and under clouds as truly as under sunshine." 

--William Ellery Channing

Like the seed that has lain in the ground all winter, in spring it will begin its springtime dance into new life.  One who is higher than I leads me through this dark land.  I am moved along in steady and unseen ways into new life.

Healing After Loss

Martha W. Hickman

The Moment of Creation

Beavers take dead branches, sticks, twigs and leaves and create a new purpose and breathe life into the decaying wood and debris. They are engineers as well as artists in gathering and building these structures. Creation is recycled and the beaver dams provide shelter and become a home for their young. 


Creating works of art fulfills you and is a positive uplifting outlet for your emotions.  Whatever the wounds that have to be healed, it is the moment of creation that assures us that all is well and that we are still in tune with nature and our surroundings. Creating something like a journal, poem, a drawing or painting, a splendid photograph helps me to work through grief and connects me back to something I enjoy. Photography is my artistic outlet and creating images of nature into wall art, cards, albums and blogging is my therapy. Like the beaver, I recycle nature into my own artistic creations.

Footprints On the Sands of Time: A Life's Journey

 Footprints on the Sands of Time - A Life Journey of Mary Lee Smith Brown

I made a photo journal of my mom's Life Journey.  The link above will connect you to the book on Shutterfly and you can review the entire book.  Click on the book image and then click full screen.  Since it is 106 pages, it will take a few moments to come up.  You can play it as a slide show or individual pages.  Enjoy!

 

Rhythm of a flowing River

"But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
By Alfred Tennyson


I am renewed and refresh every time I visit the forest, mountains, rivers, and wildlife.  There is a rhythm of hope in every sound of nature. Nature's rhythm is music to my heart.

The Earth is My Sister

"The earth is my sister.  I love her daily grace, her silent daring, and how loved I am."  The cycle of the seasons is alive with the promise of rebirth.  Creation is a mystery and so is death.  But there are promises, that we are the children of God.  "In Life as in death, we draw our power from the same source." 
Quote:  Martha W. Hickman, Healing After Loss

My mother loved the cycle of the seasons.  She knew about the death and rebirth of her garden and flowers every year.  She nurtured and watered her flowers daily. She had faith and believed in God's promises of everlasting life for those who believe in him.

Monts-Valin National Park

"The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes.  So is everyone who is born of the Spirit.  John 3:8

The Trees

The Trees


by Phillip Larkin


The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.


Is it that they are born again
And we grow old?  No, they de too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.


Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

Mary Lee Smith-Brown with her granddaughter Angela in Cherokee County, Ga.  She loved the Smoky Mountains.  She had Cherokee Indian ancestors, Augusta Cole and Mourning Brown who lived in the Great Smoky Mountains of North Carolina.

"Mary Hillhouse Flowers" Greeting Cards

I love photography and my mom loved gardening and growing flowers.  I am doing a project connecting our mother-daughter love through photography.  I have designed a greeting card collection featuring the flowers from my mom's garden "Mary Hillhouse Flowers".  The collection consists of 8 5"x7"photo cards featuring three flowers on the front.  I also designed notecards featuring her day lilies. They are being printed by Shutterfly and I am also printing my own photo cards. Several years ago, I had greeting cards professionally printed as a gift to her featuring her flowers and she was very proud of her cards and she loved sending cards to family and friends.  During her battle with pancreatic cancer, I sent her cards of encouragement with her favorite flowers.

 

A photo of her watering her flowers and garden beds.  She took loving care of her flowers and the yard was full of blooms and birds.

Hymn to the Night

Hymn to the Night

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I heard the trailing garments of the night

Sweep through her marble halls!

I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light

From the celestial walls!

I felt her presence by its spell of might,

Stoop o'er me from above

The calm, majestic presence of the Night,

As of the one I love.

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight,

The manifold, soft chimes,

That fill the haunted chambers of the Night,

Like some old poet's rhymes.

From the cool cisterns of the midnight air

My spirit drank repose;

The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,--

From those deep cisterns flows.

O' holy Night from thee I learn to bear

What man has borne before!

Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care

And they complain no more.

Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer!

Descend with broad-winged flight,

The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair,

The best-beloved Night!

In Loving Memory

Mary Lee Smith-Brown

Angels in My Mother's Garden

In my mother's garden were Red Cardinals that enjoyed the fruits of her labor.  My mom said if you see a Red Cardinal then you are seeing an angel.

My Grief is like a River

Grief Is Like a River

by Cynthia G. Kelly

My grief is like a river, 

I have to let it flow,

But I myself determine

just where the banks will go.

Some days the current takes me

 in waves of guilt and pain,

But there are always quiet pools

where I can rest again.

I crash on rocks of anger--

My faith seems faint indeed,

But there are other swimmers

Who know that what I need

Are loving hands to hold me

When the waters are too swift,

And someone kind to listen

When I just seem to drift.

Grief's river is a process

Of relinquishing the past

By swimming in Hope's channels

I'll reach the shore at last.

Neither Height nor Depth will Separate Us

 


 


"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Romans 8:38-39 NIV

He will wipe away every tear

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

Revelation 21:4 (NIV)

Grands-Jardins National Park

1 Corinthians 13:2

If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.