Bouquet of Life

This is a work in progress, but I occasionally get inspired by country music lyrics and try to write my own. I appreciate your comments. I hope you like it. Witt




Our life together has been a garden.

We started out with just a chunk of land,

like two very different individuals

who needed tending,

and then we sowed some seed and watched it grow.



For nearly twenty years now it has yielded many things

A mixture of toil and tears but somehow it began to show

what the power of love and a whole lot of prayer

can do for two lonely souls like us.



So today I look upon this garden as our bouquet of life

and I thank God we’re still together.

After all we’ve been through it is clear

That we are still stronger together

than we would ever be apart.

So here’s my shoulder for you to cry on

and here’s the best of me; my heart.



Honey I know our life is still a struggle,

and there is no way to put a value on strife.

When the good Lord has seen us through and through,

like the storm in Spring time and the Winter blues;

as the flowers lay dormant beneath the fallen snow,

they know that better days will come in Summer.

And yes, they will wither in the Fall

just as it has always been for countless generations;

every life and every soul will visit the seasons

and wind up behind heaven’s doors.



So let us now gather from this garden

all the hopes and dreams we shared

and put them in a vase upon a table;

like a fine bouquet of flowers show,

and continue on as we are able.

With God all things are possible

and our garden will always grow.

Just the Floor Guy

This entry comes in light of a situation that cost me my full time job. I felt compelled to share it after I visited a web site called "Sacred Space." The daily prayers and meditations that are offered are a great resource if time and prayer are difficult or constrained. I found Holy Thursdays reading and thoughts on prayer to be especailly helpful in light of my job situation. I realized that in order to move on in my life and become the person I was meant to be, that I have to make small gradual changes over time in order to avoid what happened. Prayer is an essential element of this process as well. Enjoy and have a blessed Easter season! Witt

I came in through the back door night after night, probably without you even being aware of my presence. I gathered the tools of my trade; broom, bucket, mop and went about the tedium that housekeepers are accustomed. I followed a precise routine of dust mopping, gathering up the remnants of a days’ activity and scrubbed away the dirt and scuff marks that accumulate over the course of time. Having done this, I began to put back the shine that was once there before so many passing feet had dulled the surface beneath them. I carefully guided the buffing machine across the well trafficked areas and then surveyed the results. I then moved on to the remaining areas in which I was charged to repeat the process all over again.


There were times when you may have noticed my displeasure at the deep scratches or the excess dirt that was left in the hours before I came in to do my work. You may also have witnessed my concern for the well being of a resident who seemed restless and unable to sleep or crying out in the darkness for a hand to reach out and comfort them. More often than not, you probably noticed the times when I was not so silent and purposefully made my presence known. Know this, that everything I did while performing these duties was a reflection of the servant; employee in today’s terms. Though paid to perform such tasks, I took great pride in my work and found a deeper meaning to the mundane routine. I often took a moment to silently pray for the struggling resident or aide or nurse whose situation was troubling or difficult to deal with. On more than one occasion I found myself praying outside the room of a dying resident or one who had recently passed.

It was at these times that the simple humility of my job took on a whole new meaning; one of a higher purpose, to show compassion. Though I regret some of my actions in this world with a disdainful eye and would certainly take them back if I could, I still cannot forget the humble servant who tried his very best to set an example for others to follow. While I may have forgotten this humble mission during a moment of utter distress, I still pray for those who only saw the worst in me and have called me “a monster” in their private conversations. For this I do not hold a grudge or wish any harm or malice, only that you pray for me and I for you that we may find better ways to be humble servants and examples of love and compassion for others to follow. Take care and Go with God my friends. Now you know me for who I truly am instead of “just the floor guy.”

Update

I apologize for not keeping up to date these past few months, but things have gotten hectic in my life. I was trying to finish a bachelors in English Literature, but it appears that is on hold with only 35 credit hours remaining. I regret having gone through Grand Canyon University, but I cannot do anything about it now. I hate the fact that it always comes down to money and red tape. Whether I go on or not is still as up in the air as my life has gone. I am happy for those who make enough money that the economy does not seem to affect them. We're still paying off a trip to Disney World from 2008! The fact remains that my future is unclear, my kids' future as well, but my wife drives on in spite of the burden I have placed on her shoulders. It must be hell to live with a perpetual wonderer.

Diving in the Stream

The following poem is an experiment using stream of consciousness, emotion and reality. Often, I am confronted with situations that confound me or stir feelings that I don't know how to deal with. I try so hard to give the semblance of control in my life, but I have none. I just can't seem to let go and realize I am going nowhere on my own initiative. The only conclusion to draw from is that God knows where we are going and we must do our best to ride the waves as best we can until we reach the other shore. One hint: I work at a nursing home. And so, here goes...

Where did my thoughts go?

Caught between the walls of asylum and old age;

angered by the senseless monotony of it all.


Where does their patience come from?

Wiping up the remnants of incontinence;

saddened by the tragedy and cruelty of life.


What chain of events has led to this cross-road?

Tears, laughter and apathy confound;

hopeful that God must have a hand in this reasoning.


How do I continue on this journey?

Traveling without a map or clear course of action;

anxious for subtle signs of roses and mere coincidence.


Who will provide answers within?

Searching for meaning beside a faithful companion;

loving more dearly than ever before.


11/17/11

October Rose

It came quite by surprise

A single solitary rose

One October day

Fledgling bud

Orphaned

From the growth of thorns

To blossom splendidly fragrant

Through autumn frost

Surviving incorrupt

Reminding

The love of God prevails

In spite of weather

Wind or rain

To emerge

Undaunted

Teaching us all a lesson

To have faith unceasing

Despite hard times

Frantic troubles

Abiding

In something higher than ourselves

Beyond our feeble understanding

In greater things

To ponder

Love.

- D. Wittler 11/4/11



The story behind this poem and photo is real. Times have been tough for me and my family these past weeks. Like many folks we have felt the affects of a down economy and the loss of income. A week or so ago my wife prayed for a sign of hope, and low and behold a rose started to bloom on our rose bush. A single pink rose! In eleven years we have never had a blossom appear this late in the year; and only one!
It has stood several frosty mornings and is still in tact. I went outside tonight and took a picture. It became the inspiration for the poem. God Bless and hope for all.
Keep the faith!

Journal of a Middle Child

Day: 17956

To whom it may concern;

Isn’t it great to know that one seemingly negative thing that you have done can erase all of the positives you have created; that all of the smiles you have shown are wiped away with just one frown? It is the story of my life…

I am sick to death of the game; it is without purpose and it is not fun. It must be the invention of some cruel being that shall remain hidden behind the guise of evil till the end of all we know is upon us and he shall be revealed. What will we see; perhaps ourselves or some once beautiful face corrupted by want, desire and every other form of vile repugnant quest to feed our inner child. From whence does this darkness come?

Some have pondered the origins of the soul; others the nature of man in relation to the natural forces all around him. Still, others have merely existed to feed and work and sleep according to the mandates of a time clock and punch card. What then remains on the final day when labor ceases and one faces the inevitable arm chair and bed pan of old age? He then becomes the work of others who are slaves to the same task master. What a cruel world when all one sees is despair played out like a merry-go-round; it cycles like the moon in phase and rushes shoreward and back in some lunar phenomena. How I pity the stars fixed in an enormous vacuum of space destined to glow and die over countless millennia; their only legacy is but a memory seen from a light year’s distance from earth and beyond. Must I go on? It has been twenty four hours and the tide of energy has turned again to find me here alone once more. It feels like a numbing cold within my brain as I press the keys one finger at a time.

Torn in All Directions

Sorry for the late post my friends, I have not been myself of late and I grow more tired by the month. I'm just not sure if I can keep this up. I am not happy with this short cut style of on-line education that I have taken on through Grand Canyon University. No guarantees that a degree in English literature will bear fruit, but at least I acknowledged the gift God gave me and maybe that is all  I needed to come to terms with in my life. I can say I am wanting to exit gracefully into that good night. If only it were that easy. The best and worst are yet to come, this I know for sure. And so my offering to the writing ghosts that haunt my soul tonight.... may they rest in peace until tomorrow.


Tonight finds this weary soul pushed to the brink of writing by caffeine. My life, so full yet is lacking. What does this mean? Like some impoverished monk I work and serve the causes of family life and the future of boys, all at the peril and sacrifice of the love of my life. When did things get so complicated? I am drowning in the fight to stay afloat and the desire to change the hearts and minds of those so conditioned to single mindedness. Why can’t they see the view from the mountain top like I envision in my heart’s desires? They choose to ignore or by force of habit look straight through me as if I never existed. Am I a renaissance man in modern times or just a soul prepared for the next great leap of faith? I would gladly welcome death today if at once I could take in the entire lineage of my faith and past lives. How I long for that mansion of many rooms in which my heavenly father resides. But alas, I have trails to trod, rivers to bridge and sons to raise, papers to write and some uncertain future to face. What great triumphs, challenges, trials and tribulations wait? Lord only knows my fate. Good night.