Tag: love

Little Love Poems

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Teacher TalesLeave a comment

Happy Valentine’s Day!  Maybe today is your favorite day of the year and you’re surrounded by chocolates and roses.

Maybe you’re spending today in your own good company, but you wish you could just pull the covers over your head and stay in bed until February 15th shows its face.

No matter what today looks like for you, I hope you find a way to show someone you care about that they’re loved.

And to get you in the mood, here are a few love poems written by my little ones.

Here’s one a little girl wrote for her mommy.

Marshmallow Hugs

Mom, you are as beautiful as a rose!

Your hugs feel like soft, soft marshmallows.

I love you more than the moonlight.

XOXO

I love you, Mom!

And a couple for sisters and brothers.

My Love Poem

You are as sweet as a rose.

I love you so much more than my dog.

Dear Brother,

Happy Valentine’s Day!

You are kind.

You are sweet as sugar.

I like you because you share with me and you help me read.

Last, but not least, here is my favorite poem written by a little boy to his dad.

My Love Poem

Your love is soft like a soft cloud.

I love you to the ocean.

You are handsome like a tiger.

I love you with joy.

I am so using that tiger line on my hubby tonight.  Happy Valentine’s Day!

Love Songs

On By Alicia McCauleyIn The Junk Drawer6 Comments

I’m a sucker for a good love song.  Love songs for your best beloved.  Love songs for your friends.  Love songs for your home.  Love songs for God.  I can’t get enough.  I just can’t help myself.  Here are a few I listen to over and over again.

“First Day of My Life” by Bright Eyes is a happy tune, the perfect driving song.  So, crank the windows down, grab the hand of a loved one and get ready to be giddy.  My two favorite lines are: “This is the first day of my life, swear I was born right in the door way.”  and “These things take forever, I especially am slow.”  You and me both.

“Have I Told You Lately?” by Van Morrison is a song I’ve loved for gazillions of years and will love for gazillions more.  I’m swooning just thinking of this song.  And the line that makes my heart do a little dance?  “For the morning sun in all its glory greets the day with hope and comfort, too.”  What a way to start the day, filled with hope and comfort.  Go listen to this one right now.  I will, too, and then we’ll meet back here, ok?

“Falling Slowly” by The Frames isn’t a happy-go-lucky kind of love song.  At all.  But for me it’s so tender in the wanting, wanting to pick up the broken pieces of a worn out, worn down, tattered love that’s worth saving.  The line that strikes me most is “Take this sinking boat and point it home, we’ve still got time.”

Next up is “You’re Beautiful” by Phil Wickham.  I saw him in concert, and if you can fathom it, his voice is even more pure in person.  Hard to believe, I know.  I love how big this song feels, how he sings about all the things in nature that remind him of God.  My favorite line is not the most complex line in the song, but the simplicity of it moves me.  “I see Your face.  You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful.”

You’re going to make fun of me for this next one, but I don’t care.  “Ice Cream” by Sarah McLachlan is on my love song playlist.  Anyone who knows me at all knows that I will give my right arm for ice cream.  And if it’s Slow Churned Moosetracks, I’ll give you my left arm, too.  Although it would be really hard to eat ice cream without any arms.  I digress.  When Sarah sings the line “Your love is better than ice cream, better than anything else that I’ve tried.”, I’m amazed because she gets it-she gets how much I love ice cream and how much I love my hubby.  I prefer the live version of this one because it seems like the audience is having so much fun singing along.

“Grandma’s Hands” by Bill Withers might seem like an odd choice to be on a list of love songs, but love takes many forms.  It’s got this great bluesy feel and when Bill Withers sings the line “Grandma’s hands used to clap in church on Sunday mornings.” I can picture my own grandmother’s hands clapping along to all those Baptist hymns.  And the last line “When I get to heaven, I’ll look for Grandma’s hands”, well, that one is so true, so raw that it leaves me aching for that day.

Friends, Peter Gabriel could sing the phonebook and I’d be smitten, so it’s no surprise that “In Your Eyes” is a favorite.  Right, ladies?  I don’t even mind that it’s riddled with 80’s synthesizer.  That’s how good this song is.  In fact, I don’t even have a favorite line in this song because the whole thing is all kinds of delicious.  Not to mention the added imagery of John Cusack standing outside the house with his boombox held overhead.  I love being a child of the 80’s.

“Close Your Eyes” by Jump, Little Children is another non-traditional love song.  It’s such a tender song from a father to his child.  It’s the lullaby that keeps me company in the wee hours of the morning when sleep is elusive.  The second best line is “Tell me the stars are made of tin and that they’re banging on the roof.”  Man, I wish I could write like that.  And the reassurance that “The sun will rise and keep your mind at ease.”, that one makes me yawn, close my eyes and relax back into the soft arms of a dream. Sadly there aren’t many videos out there of this song.  The one I linked to is the best one out there and it doesn’t even begin to do the song justice.  This one deserves a listen in iTunes.

And finally, finally here is my absolute favorite love song, “How He Loves” by David Crowder Band.  It expresses perfectly how in awe I am at the depth of God’s love.  I get chill bumps every time I hear it and when we sing it in church, I can barely choke back the sobs that bob in my throat.  My favorite line is “Heaven meets earth like an unforseen kiss and my heart turns violently inside of my chest, I don’t have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way that He loves us.”  Love that leaves no time, no space for to wallow in regrets?  Yes and amen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRzbeXK-BsI

Now it’s your turn.  What love songs do I need to add to my playlist?

Bike Love

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures8 Comments

February is a special month for me because not too many Februaries ago, my own little heart got a big fix.  And that big fix allows me to celebrate love in its purest form.  The purest form of love being bike love, of course.

This February I’m sending you a big bouquet of Valentine wishes.

I hope you find love in unexpected places.  I think you’ll be surprised where you find it if you take a moment to look.

Image from bikerumor.com

I hope you find a warm embrace in the arms of a loved one.  And that you take the time to hug them just a second or two longer than usual.

Image from fineartamerica.com

I hope you’ll be bold enough to let down your guard, to wear your heart on your sleeve.

I hope you write and receive many, many love notes.

Image from candycranks.com

And that each day you find something new to love.

Image from sp.life123.com

I hope you find comfort in love that has been around the block once or twice, love that has lasted, love that has lost a little of its sheen, love that has lost all the sharp edges, love that’s your soft place to fall.

Image from http://www.bargo.info

Whether you spend this Valentine’s Day with a few thousand of your closest friends

Image from http://www.bargo.info

Or in your own good company

Image from bikeblogs.org

Know this, I’m thankful you’re a part of my life.  I think this necklace best expresses my feelings for you.

Image from newyork.inetgiant.com

Happy February!  Now, go out and show your bike some love.

Black & White

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures7 Comments

A long time ago in a space that seems fuzzy and far away, before I owned a road bike or called myself a cyclist, my step-dad, Chris, used to take me mountain biking.  I use that term loosely because it’s not like I was hopping up boulders or screaming downhill, whipping through singletrack or anything.  I was riding mostly flat dirt trails on my mountain bike.

Often Chris would bring along his dog, Jack.  Jack was the blackest dog I’ve ever seen.  His coat was a glossy obsidian color and as he ran alongside us, his pink tongue would hang out.  His tongue had one black spot right in the middle.  In his more nimble days, Jack would get so excited about riding bikes that he would bite at our tires.  I would nudge him away with my foot, half smiling at his mischievous side.  Not that I could relate or anything.

As I tootled along the dusty trails, I tried, with varying amounts of success, not to get lost and not to crash.  Quite often I got separated from Chris and he’d send Jack to find me.  I was never afraid of being lost when I rode with Chris because I knew Jack would always come back for me.  As I stood befuddled as to which way to turn on a trail, Jack would lope up to me, his polka dot tongue waggling at me.  I would say “Hi, Jack.  Thanks for coming to get me.  Take me to Chris.”  And sure enough, Jack led me to Chris every time.  He was my own personal rescue dog.

Today Jack died.  And I am sad.  I know he was old and no longer spry enough to run rescue missions on the trails.  And I know he wasn’t even my dog.  But I am sad.  Sad that he will never nip at my tires or grin at me with his silly polka dot tongue.

I rode my bike to school today and in the late morning Terry dropped by my classroom with a bouquet of stark white roses.  When it came time to go home, I jimmied the bouquet into my backpack and strapped on my helmet.  The roses bumped against the back of my helmet as I pedaled up the hill home.  Every little bump seemed to release a new wave of fragrance into the air.  It was lovely.

As I inhaled the scent of the white roses, I thought of black Jack.  I thought of how grief is anything but black and white.  It is shades of gray, birthed from black sorrow and white joy stacked one upon the other, like crying and laughing in the same breath.

When I got home today, I plunged the roses into a vase of water.  A lone petal fell onto the counter.  I fingered its pale skin, grateful today for the juxtaposition of loss and love.  I stood in the kitchen and gave thanks that in my life there is more laughing than crying, more love than loss, more white than black.

Letter #6: Postcards From You

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Letters to Gramma4 Comments

Dear Gramma,

Last night I was enjoying the quiet of the wee morning hours.  I could hear Terry snoring in the bed as I sifted through a box of things my mom gave me.  There was a book of things I wrote in first grade that I can’t wait to share with my class.  There were cards from my first few birthdays.  I traced your signature on the cards you sent me and I traced Grandpa’s name, too.

Underneath the stack of birthday cards were items my mom brought back from your house, including the postcards you bought on our trip.  The backs of the postcards were blank and I sat in our office staring at their stark backs.  Tears welled in my eyes because those postcards will always be blank.  I sunk to the floor, wishing for your words to trace with my fingers.

I flipped the postcards over and ran my fingers across each glossy image of the places we’d been together.  It occurred to me that it was exactly three years ago to the day that you took me on that crazy bus tour for my birthday.  We had such a good time, didn’t we?  As I studied the postcards, I remembered the day we visited Novi Sad.  Do you remember when we stopped on that bridge and I asked you to take a picture of me with the beautiful buildings in the background?

You took this:

I asked if maybe you could take another picture.  One that captured the buildings and especially the clock tower in the background.

You lined the camera up carefully and took this:

I laughed and asked if you could possibly take another photo with the buildings in the background and preferably my entire head.

For a third time you lined the camera up really carefully and clicked the button, confident that you’d certainly got a good shot that time.  Do you remember how hard we laughed when we saw this?

And then our bus was leaving so we never did get a decent shot of that clock tower.  Gramma, you were so good at so many things, but you were an awful photographer.  Just awful.  And I’m so glad because each time I think of that bridge in Novi Sad, I remember how hard we laughed that day and how relieved you were when I banned you from taking photos for the rest of our trip.

Later that night, we ordered banana splits for dinner in the hotel bar.  The bar was closing and you asked the waiter to take our picture.  We ate and talked well into the wee hours of the morning.

Thank you for taking me on that trip.  And thank you for never sending those postcards to your friends.  Three years later they have come back to me, reminding me that the things we saw on our trip paled in comparison to the time we spent together.

Love,

Alicia