Poems for Patricia's Angels

In Loving Memory of
Jeremy Don Long, 2/14/81 - 11/18/98
George Russell Aaron McIntosh II, 10/17/83 - 2/14/00
Jimmy Wayne Martin, 7/4/83 - 2/14/00
Baby Long, went to Heaven on 11/20/98
Baby Clark, went to Heaven on 11/20/03

Russell McIntosh at bat in 1997.

Listen To Your Children

Take a moment to listen today,
To what your children are trying to say,
Listen today, whatever you do,
Or they won't be there to listen to you,

Listen to their problems,
Listen for their needs,
Praise their smallest triumphs,
Praise every smallest deed,

Tolerate their chatter,
Amplify their laughter,
Find out what's the matter,
Find out what they're after,

But tell them that you love them,
Every single night,
And though you may scold them,
Make sure you hold them and tell them,
Everything's all right,

Take a moment to listen today,
To what your children are trying to say,
Listen today, whatever you do,
And they will come back,
And listen to you.

Somebody

Somebody said
it was all for the best,
that something was probably wrong.

Somebody said it was meant to be,
Different verse,
same miserable song.

Somebody said,
"You can have another!"
As if that would make it alright.

Somebody said
"It was not a real child."
Somebody's not very bright.

Somebody thinks it is helpful
To say when grieving should end.
Somebody shows their true colors.
Somebody isn't a friend.

But somebody said, "I'm sorry."
And sat quietly by my side.
And somebody shared my sorrow
And held my hand when I cried.

And somebody always listened
And called my lost baby by name.
And somebody understood
That I'd never again be the same.
~Unknown

Russell McIntosh in 1995.

By: A Indian Elder

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will be looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your sorrow, if you have been open by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from cause of further pain! I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own: if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human. It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!" It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children. It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not step back. It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls apart. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

This Indian Poem above reminds me of my son Russell. He was true to his Catholic Faith no matter what anyone else thought about it and he was true to himself his soul and to his family. He got up after losing friends like Jeremy and friends at school, he kept going. He stood with me in the fire and I hope I did the same for him. I knew what sustained him on the inside when all else was falling apart around us. He was faithful, Loyal and goodhearted. Would help people when they needed help usually only to their benefit.

Jeremy with his brother and sisters.

Jeremy talking on the phone with Mandy.

THE GIFT

I have a gift
I did not want this gift,
it meant suffering and pain
The pain because of love.
A love which had manifest itself in a child.
The child brought it's love to me
and asked for my love.
Sometimes I did not understand this.
Sometimes I was too busy to listen quietly to this love.
But the love was persistent, it was always there.
And one day the child died.
The love remained
This time the love came in other forms.
This time there were memories,
There was sadness and anquish,
And unbelievable pain.
One day a stranger came and stood with me.
The stranger said "I understand."
And did.
You see, the stranger had also been this way.
We talked and cried together.
The stranger became my my friend as no other had.
My friend said, "I am always here." and was.
One day I lifed my head
I noticed another grieving, gray and drawn with pain
I approached and spoke.
I touched and comforted.
I said"I will walk with you."
And I did.
I also had the gift.

Written by Joe Lawley
TCF Co-Founder
Coventry, England, 1969

Jimmy with a snake and even pretending to eat it, how silly he was!

Wish Me Courage

"Don't wish me happiness
I don't expect to be happy all the time...
It's gotten beyond that somehow.
Wish me courage and strength and a sense of humor.
I will need them all."
By Anne Morrow Lindbergh