Count your Blessings

I just want to share that Jerry felt blessed in all circumstances.  I think this is his legacy, and I hope it will inspire you to count your blessings and give God the Glory.

BLESSED

When Jerry was sick, he acknowledged God as the One,

He was grateful for his life: “God’s will be done”,

“I am a blessed man”, he would say,

“I feel blessed in every way”,

If his legacy I could write,

I’d say he didn’t give up without a fight,

But fighting and acceptance for him went hand-in-hand,

His faith was deep and his courage was grand,

He did not get mad at God, or even ask why,

He didn’t feel sorry for himself nor did he cry,

He was a valiant warrior in his battle with cancer,

But he knew that only God held the right answer,

He said God wanted him to slow down and rest,

He did just that and that time was the best,

To spend time with his family was his greatest treasure,

A gift we had that was beautiful beyond measure,

In only 9 months he was gone from us here,

But without reservation, I know he is near,

I know he is in a better place according to God’s will,

I feel his presence sometimes when I’m very still,

I will never forget the inspiration he gave,

Because he was so incredibly brave.

Merry Christmas and a Blessed New Year to all of you in 2019.

Tammy Harvey

Courage Beyond Measure

Eat, Sleep, Fight Brain Cancer, Repeat

   

September 24, 2017- a life changing day,

Confusion and disorientation increased in a startling way,

Memory loss too, became a big concern,

A trip to the ER was necessary, to see what they’d discern,

One year ago, today, the diagnosis was made clear,

Early onset Alzheimer’s had been our worse fear,

But a cancerous brain tumor, considered terminal, was the finding,

It was like a tightly coiled spring quickly unwinding,

We weren’t prepared for it, but the prognosis was revealed,

We were willing to fight though; our fate was not sealed,

The next nine months after that day seems like a blur,

My otherwise healthy husband?  How could this occur?

The determination to survive was top priority,

We took our treatment plan from the top-notch authority,

Surgery was performed by the best brain surgeon on the east coast,

My husband was proud of that fact and would often times boast,

Radiation and chemotherapy, courage and hope,

We hung on tightly, even at the end of our rope,

The conventional treatment was not successful,

But my husband stayed incredibly peaceful,

He did not give up, but with all the strength he could muster,

Believed in God’s will, even though it was lack luster,

How does one react when given 3-6 months to live?

When time is running out, like sand in a broken sieve?

With grace, received from God, and faith in eternity,

He showed us all how to die with honor and dignity.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  9/27/18, one year from diagnosis, in remembrance of 9/24/2017

A Heavenly Perspective

Gone Too Soon

When people die young, how do we rationalize in our mind?

Stillborn babies and terminal toddlers:  their fate seems so unkind,

Even teenagers, not realizing their fragile mortality,

Recklessly contribute to their own fatality,

Death is a part of life; It is reality,

Without regard to personal spirituality,

When people die old, it is far more acceptable,

A long life lived; no one is skeptical,

The world is fallen; The Garden of Eden is gone,

This does explain why things go wrong,

Tragedy happens to everyone, the bad and the “good”,

Do any of us live like we really, truly should?

Are there degrees of evil?  Aren’t we all at fault?

Our nature is sinful; it’s the Lord we must exalt,

He took the burden of sin away, as far as east is from the west,

He knows all of our hearts, and His plan is always best,

When people die young, I think they are called to a higher purpose,

That is the only justification I have for what lies beneath the surface,

God spares them the agony of earthly trials and tribulation,

He prepares a room for them with holy consideration,

Isn’t it a reward to be called to Heaven, and leave this world so fast?

I’d say it is, for the glory and awe of Heaven is forever unsurpassed,

Selfishly, we don’t want our loved ones gone too soon,

And everyone is vulnerable; No one is immune,

It is so hard to see the Heavenly perspective, the eternal Shalom,

This world is just a temporary dwelling; it is not our actual home,

All our days are numbered, and tomorrow is not promised,

But when people die young, it really hurts, if I’m being honest.

Tammy Harvey

Written: 9/26/2018

Those were the Days...

Sand Island

When I was young, Sand Island was a place our family loved to go,

On Watts Bar Lake in Tennessee, by houseboat we went, with a ski boat in tow,

It took us a full day and a half to get there by water from Ft. Loudon Lake,

We would go through the locks at the dam, an adventurous trek to make,

It was summertime, usually July, when we spent our vacation there,

It was hot and all day long our bathing suits we would wear,

Sand Island was a small island several miles from a distant shore,

We pitched a tent on the sandy beach, but wait, there’s so much more,

We beached the houseboat and secured the front of it to a tree,

Dropped an anchor off the back just for more stability,

Our family always went together with the Murphys, our good friends,

Sometimes we’d stay for 2 whole weeks, always sad when it would end,

Other people did the same, so the island was not totally ours,

But it was “our island” to us, and every night we’d have blazing campfires,

I always stayed in the tent with the Murphys, while my family bedded down in the boat,

We each had a cot and for a mattress we’d use our blow-up float,

I could take off on my own and safely explore the entire island,

I would start at our campsite and walk the whole thing single-handed,

We would gather driftwood during the day for our nightly fireside time,

And with a flashlight, look for frogs… we created our own paradigm,

The frogs were tiny and called peepers, no bigger than a penny,

And they were fun to catch and release, there were so very many,

While at Sand Island, all of us youngsters learned to water ski,

We’d each take turns getting chances to try, before riding a board on our knees,

The sun was scorching, we’d get a good tan, sometimes a good burn,

But with so much fun in the sun, it was a hard lesson to learn,

I fondly think of Sand Island now, and would like to return sometime,

I’d like to take my grandchildren, pitch a tent and make our own paradigm.

Tammy Harvey   written: 1/31/2018

When All Else Fails

I should take a page from my own playbook and treat myself to a long, soaking hot bath.  Lord knows I need to relax.

You are in Hot Water (literally)

Relax your body and rest your mind,

Refresh your soul with solitude and peace you will find,

There are many ways to do this, but one I might suggest,

It helps me quite a lot when I’m feeling really stressed,

Fill the bathtub with water as hot as you can stand,

Test the temperature regularly with the back side of your hand,

Add your favorite liquid soap, and watch the bubbles grow,

Light lots of aromatic candles and enjoy the flames that glow,

Turn the lights off and step into the luxurious spa created,

For it is the end of a long day’s work, and you should be elated,

Let the water slowly soothe your tired legs and aching back,

Close your eyes and relish the darkness; it is almost totally black,

The candles’ scent gives your nose a whiff of fragrant perfume,

It is relaxing and restoring, there is silence in the room,

Fairly soon the water cools, and the soft, warm bed awaits,

Except for a therapeutic massage, nothing truly equates,

Take time to smell the roses and give yourself a treat,

It is amazing how a simple bath can cure your weary feet,

Now your muscles are relaxed, and you are drifting into sleep,

May all your dreams be sweet, until the annoying alarm goes beep,

Another day is dawning, and you are ready for an eventful day,

But if you had the choice to make, a hot bath is where you’d stay!

Tammy Harvey

Written: 9/28/18

Thinking of You

It was Thanksgiving Day of last year that Jerry decided to post his illness on Facebook.  He thought it an appropriate time to let others know.  

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.

Tree Memorial

A tree planted in memory of you,

What a thoughtful and caring thing to do,

My friends asked me what tree you liked best,

A pink dogwood, I said, you liked more than the rest,

They purchased a beautiful little pink dogwood tree,

And gave it lovingly to me,

It is planted in the backyard, and I already know,

The joy it will bring us as we watch it grow,

Together we put down roots and grew a family tree,

You and me, with our boys of three,

As the pink blooms open up in the middle of spring,

I will smile, think of you…what happiness it will bring!

A tree planted in memory of you,

What a thoughtful and caring thing to do.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  11/14/2018

Joy in your Heart

Don’t Miss the Joy

Is it me? Or does Christmas merchandising begin earlier and earlier every year?

Do they think we will forget to buy something?  Is that their fear?

I mean, the merchants skip over Thanksgiving like it doesn’t exist,

Why decorate the stores for Christmas in October?  Be patient! I insist!

Why not give each holiday it’s due?

Thanksgiving Day is important too,

We pause to give thanks for all of our blessings, and there are many,

We should do that every day because we have plenty,

Plenty, however, is never enough,

We have to go out and buy more stuff,

Christmas has lost it’s true meaning I fear,

Let’s put Christ back into Christmas this year,

It is a celebration of his birth after all,

It is not about presents or trips to the mall,

But we stress and we shop and we wrap and we hurry,

We take all the joy out of giving, but don’t worry,

It’s not too late to make a change,

Celebrate simply and simply celebrate may sound strange,

But simplicity is the key, I think,

For Christmas comes and goes away in a blink,

Enjoy the holidays with joy in your heart,

And don’t fret about what’s in your shopping cart!

Tammy Harvey

Written:  11/5/2018

Yard work is hard work

 Satisfaction Guaranteed

There is a certain gratification that arises when tending a lawn,

Yard work is hard work; it takes back-breaking brawn,

But when all the weeds are pulled and crabgrass is unseen,

When the dandelions are gone, and the grass is thick and green,

When the sidewalk and driveway are precisely edged,

And the bushes are uniformly hedged,

And the weeding-eating is completed,

Ever knowing the effort will need to be repeated,

Whether out of gardener’s pure joy or out of necessity,

You have curb appeal purchased by your own sweat equity,

The bulbs you planted back in the fall,

Surprise you in spring, like you did nothing at all,

The summer is dry, and the green turns to brown,

Water sprinklers are running all over town,

Then fall comes along with its own unique chore,

Raking or blowing leaves, and bagging them is in store,

In the winter, take respite, there’s not much to maintain,

This season is provided to keep the gardener sane,

If you’d rather do yard work as house work, like me,

Then roll up your sleeves, grab your gloves, prune a tree,

There is personal satisfaction in pulling those weeds,

And growing grass by spreading the seeds,

You are nurturing nature; Am I being convincing?

Are you grabbing your back? Is your face already wincing?

A certain gratification arises when tending a lawn,

But yard work is hard work, says the gardener, with a yawn!

Tammy Harvey

Written:  10/1/2018

You Can Take it from Me

Good Advice

Oprah says, “Turn your wounds into wisdom,

Grow through what you go through”,

I had to read that a time or two,

It is good advice, I must say,

Disappointments happen every day,

Some are huge and some quite small,

You can build a bridge or you can build a wall,

You can choose to use adversity to help you learn,

Wisdom grows from experiences, you’ll discern,

If you can take something bad that happens to you,

And turn it into a positive, that’s a huge break through,

Your spirits can rise and fall like the waves of the sea,

I know quite well; you can take it from me,

You may struggle to find the good in all,

But you must get up each time you fall,

Dust off yourself, and get back in the saddle,

The horse may be stubborn, but you’ll win the battle,

If you choose to see the glass always half full,

Your internal Ferdinand will grow into a powerful bull,

If you don’t want someone to feel sorry for you,

Then don’t feel sorry for yourself; it’s true,

Your wounds become wisdom if you just let them,

Inside the deep, dark mine is a precious gem.

Tammy Harvey

October 14, 2018

I'm a Senior

Every other Tuesday at the Senior Citizen Center in Cary a crowd gathers to partake in a game of chance...

B-I-N-G-O

Recently, I ventured to play Bingo at the local senior center,

It seemed like a good activity for the upcoming winter,

I did not realize how seriously the other participants took the game,

I was a newbie, inexperienced; my Bingo skills were lame,

Arriving early, snacks in hand, to procure their lucky seats,

Veterans of Bingo were prepared, like seasoned athletes,

The tables filled up quickly, the final headcount was a hundred and one,

I was probably the youngest at 58, and could tell it was going to be fun,

I chose to play 5 cards at once, to increase my chances to win,

While the veterans played more cards than that, to my ultimate chagrin,

Steadily each number rang out: I-18, B-10, N-33, 

I was getting the hang of it now, footloose and fancy-free,

But just as I thought I was going to be the winner,

Someone ELSE shouted “Bingo!”:  I was a beginner,

It is a game of luck, but there is skill involved,

You can’t miss a number or your victory is dissolved,

We played variations: postage stamp and picture frame,

Unheard of to me, but the result was the same,

Someone else would yell “Bingo” and we’d clear all our cards,

The winners, though, were gracious, nodding kind regards,

For two hours, the numbers continuously were called out,

It was a serious competition, and the seniors were devout,

I’ve played two events now, and always tasted defeat,

Still I enjoy being a senior, and will claim my "lucky" seat!

Tammy Harvey

Written:  9/13/2018

Rest in Peace

The Mill

The air is crisp like the peel of an apple that is tart,

The leaves are ablaze with color, like a priceless piece of art,

The air smells fresh, clean and clear,

October has arrived and fall is here,

The campsite is busy with family and friends alike,

Some are making breakfast, some are riding their bikes,

There is a hint of campfire smoke floating in the air,

There is a rush of excitement:  someone has spotted a bear,

A mama bear and her cubs eating chestnuts by the stream,

Spotted at dawn, by the mill, is a camper’s wildest dream,

Located at the midpoint of Cades Cove’s 11-mile loop,

The waterwheel turns slowly as each paddle takes a scoop,

The water in the trough flows silently to the wheel,

Although it is steadily moving, it is peaceful and surreal,

It is there I lay to rest the dust of the man I married,

The Great Smokey Mountains National Park is where he chose to be “buried”,

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, he returns to the land he admired,

An annual mountain camping trip is what he most desired,

Being close to God’s creation and communing with wildlife there,

Is renewing, invigorating- an experience beyond compare,

As I leave his remains, in his chosen resting place,

I can almost see the smile upon his happy face,

He will love residing here, a place of true tranquility,

While his soul resides in Heaven for all of   eternity.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  8/28/2018

Rest in Peace Jerry.

Curious?

What’s that?
I’m hearing a rapid knock, knock, knock, somewhere near,
It’s a unique sound to an untrained ear,
Is someone knocking at my door?
Driving a nail into the hardwood floor?
It is a hollow sound, like a percussion block,
Knock, knock, knock; knock, knock, knock, knock,
It almost sounds like the beat of a bongo drum,
Or the rapid fire of an automatic machine gun,
I look out my window in order to see,
A red-headed woodpecker drilling holes on the side of a tree,
I knew all along what caused this unusual noise,
But to peak your curiosity is one of my joys,
How would the poem read if I told you right away?
“I saw a red-headed woodpecker today”,
Well I did, and he was a sight to behold,
He was quite large, and he certainly was bold,
But I wonder still as I think back on his pecking,
Was it my hearing or his, he was wrecking?
Surely the loud noise would make his ears ache,
Or at least give him an excruciating headache,
And his beak took a pounding and did not break,
Maybe that is why his head is so red,
I’m so glad I saw him before he fled.

Tammy Harvey
Written: 2/11/2018

Keep Hope Alive

I wrote this on Jan 2, 2018 with a solid hope and confidence that Jerry's MRI on Jan 11 would show successful progress.  Unfortunately, that was not the case, and he was disqualified from the clinical trial.  He later would succumb to this horrible disease, but we still find hope.  Hope in knowing that he was a believer and is eternally in the presence of God.

Praying for a miracle

I believe in dreams come true,

I believe in miracles too,

I need a miracle, I need an answer,

My Jerry is battling brain cancer!

I never thought I’d be making that statement,

To hear it, I still am in amazement,

Life is unpredictably fragile, who knew?

My best friend would be battling breast cancer too,

My husband, an otherwise healthy, energetic man,

With so many hopes, and adventuresome plans,

Is currently fighting the fight of his life,

I am staying positive and being a hopeful wife,

He is incredibly courageous and has never complained,

His head though is foggy and his energy drained,

His medicines are many, but his side effects few,

We are certainly blessed that radiation is through,

With standard care complete, the next step is for sure,

An exciting new clinical trial that could offer a cure,

Pray with me now for success in this endeavor,

So, we can be free of brain cancer forever!

Tammy Harvey

Written:  1/2/2018

Play Me a Song Piano Man

This poem was inspired by the live piano music played in the open foyer of the bottom floor at the Duke Cancer Center. Starting around mid-morning, the pianist took his/her place, and the sound resonated throughout the open stairway. It could be heard from all four floors. The pianist was different each time, but the sound was so refreshing. Piano music is such a great addition to the ambiance. I am sure it promotes healing.

Piano Music
Fingers flowing gracefully across the ivory keys,
Pianists appear to play their instruments with such ease,
The piano makes a beautiful sound, each note is its very own,
But together the notes comprise a rich, unmistakable tone,
Two gifted hands performing together in perfect harmony,
I close my eyes; my mind drifts away to a place that’s totally free,
I am not musically inclined, but still, I am aware of this,
A piano instrumental is a source of soothing bliss,
I hear an old familiar song, as the hammers hit the strings,
I can’t describe what joyfulness the experience truly brings,
If only I could play myself, I’d play ‘til my heart’s content,
I would play “Somewhere Over the Rainbow, at a big event,
I’d wear a fancy ballgown with sequins to reflect the light,
I’d still be playing diligently until late into the night,
If I could play, I’d ask each listener for a particular request,
Then I’d play the songs they wanted; the ones they liked the best,
This is a fantasy I’ve created; sheet music is foreign to me,
But I do appreciate the artists who play so eloquently.

Tammy Harvey
Written: 5/3/18

Simply Elegant, Elegantly simple

The Doily

Handmade doily:  frilly, fancy, mimicking lace,

Giving the Victorian style to any space,

Placed deliberately; with a purpose in mind,

Many of these crocheted wonders were one-of-a-kind,

Protecting the furniture from china and glass,

Presenting an air of sophistication and class,

The doily, long forgotten, is quite special to me,

It is delicate, yet defending, like a mother’s love can be,

Hand-crafted, which makes it a true work of art,

Intricately patterned, bringing warmth to my heart,

What is my infatuation with this Victorian design?

I don’t know why, but it is a favorite of mine,

Aged and yellowed doilies of old,

Antiques, frequently bought and sold,

Now paper doilies have use for those who bake,

Nicely displaying the cookies or red velvet cake,

It just adds to the splendor;  It is all about presentation,

Simply elegant, elegantly simple –a quintessential decoration,

In the floral world, the doily found its place,

Wrapping stems of flowers with ultimate grace,

A tussie-mussie was bound by a doily traditionally,

With flowers speaking the language of love unconditionally,

The doily certainly has its place in history,

Why it fell out of vogue remains a mystery.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  9/7/2018

Juno Fall Fashion

If you don't know about Juno, read the poem posted on Jan 18, 2018.
Then on March 15, I posted Juno in her spring fashion attire.

Now that fall is approaching, Juno's hat has changed again.  She now is sporting a red Carolina Hurricanes toboggan cap.  Preseason Carolina Hockey begins TODAY!
On Oct 4, the Hurricanes hockey team of Raleigh will have their opening game of the 2018-19 season.  
She's a Caniac, and it's Bo-Time!!

GO CANES!

The "Omni"s of God

God is  all-present, all-knowing and all-powerful:  Omnipresent, Omniscient, Omnipotent.

This poem was inspired by a childhood memory I have of Oral Roberts coming on television each Sunday morning and opening his service with the same song: "Greater Is He."  

The lyrics I will never forget are:  

https://lyricstranslate.com/en/lanny-wolfe-greater-he-lyrics.html

"God is greater than the wisest men

Greater than the pow’r of sin

God is greater than the gates of hell

Greater than any tongue can tell

God is greater than the richest king

Greater than anything

He’s greater (greater), Greater (greater)

Greater (greater), Greater (greater)

Greater is He that is in me than he that is in the world."

 

The "Omni"s

Imagine, if you will, the tiniest speck of sand on the shore,

Imagine, the largest ocean, then enlarge it even more,

From the tiniest to the biggest, God has his fingerprint there,

He is in every crease and crevice; He is literally everywhere,

He is omnipresent, everywhere at the same time,

God has no bounds, and His presence is sublime,

God knows the number of stars in the sky,

He knows the answers when we wonder why,

God doesn’t reveal to us all of his reasons,

We have to live on faith through all of our seasons,

Our seasons in life will be harder to bear,

If we don’t rely on His loving care,

He is omniscient, all-knowing,

Our sanctification is continuously growing,

Past, present, future: God has the plan for us in mind,

Plans to prosper, not harm; to give hope and a future to mankind,

God is omnipotent too, all-powerful, strong,

Overcoming death, He righted all the wrong,

He created this world into being and can take it back at will,

He defeated the power of sin for us and loves us even still,

Many miracles He performed; He made the blind man see,

Always giving grace to us, He parted the Red Sea,

He walked on water; Turned water into wine,

Sent manna down from Heaven; I’m so glad He is mine!

He fed 5,000 people from 5 loaves and just one fish,

For you to know and trust this God is what I truly wish,

God strengthens us with His meekness,

His power is made perfect in our weakness,

Omnipresent, Omniscient, Omnipotent is our God,

Our God is an awesome God!

Tammy Harvey  Written:  9/11/2018

From Knoxville, TN to Durham, NC

This is a true story of a Greyhound Bus ride I took to get home from Tennessee in August 2015.  I only wish I could remember the bus driver's real name.

Command the Stage

The Greyhound Bus I took was quite the trip,

Our female bus driver ran a tight ship!

I sat a few rows from the front, because I felt safer up there,

I was traveling by myself and that was rare,

While boarding, our driver heard a man cursing in line,

“Step aside sir, there will be no profanity on this bus of mine,

Do you want to ride?... then you’d better clean up your act,

I will leave you standing right here", she said without tact,

She made her first announcement as we pulled out of the station,

It was going to be on her terms, definitely not a vacation,

She said: “Put your cellphones on silent”; we could feel her sense of urgency,

“Don’t speak to me while I’m driving unless it is a medical emergency,

“No standing or walking around unless you are using the bathroom,

“Take all of your trash off the bus when you leave; and no lotion or perfume,

Our first stop is Asheville, 125 miles away,

My name is Anita, have a nice day.”

The bus was dead quiet, you could hear a pin drop,

And it stayed that way until the first stop,

“Return to the bus in 15 minutes”, she said with a roar,

“Don’t light up your cigarette until you are far from the bus door”,

In Hickory, NC- passengers got out and a few new ones got in,

Which prompted Anita to give her announcement again,

At each of these stops, the same message was heard,

I could almost repeat it myself, word for word,

Statesville, Winston-Salem, and Greensboro, she announced, with force,

I was feeling very protected by Anita’s need to stay the course,

At some point along the way, someone’s cell phone rang out,

Without hesitation, Anita said with a shout:

 “Is yours the next stop?  Do you want it to be?”

“I will put you off this bus, just wait and see?’

She was a drill Sargent, for sure, in full control,

“You can’t let people walk all over you”, she said, that was her goal,

When you are a bus driver, you have to be tough,

You have to let the passengers know when enough is enough,

So many rules to enforce, it is quite demanding,

Yours is the stage and you must be commanding,

That’s what I learned from my Greyhound bus ride,

If I’m in a bus station, I want Anita by my side!

Tammy Harvey

Written: 4/23/2018

True Blue

Blue

Blue is the color that I think of when I think of you,

It was your favorite, any shade would do,

Not blue, like melancholy or sad,

But blue, like the blue IBM had,

Carolina blue, Duke blue, cobalt or teal,

Sapphire or turquoise, all have their own appeal,

I particularly liked the color of your sparkling blue eyes,

They were so bright, so lively, like summer skies,

Dancing with excitement almost all the time,

Your pupils were small, no larger than a dime,

I think it was the combination of your blue eyes and your smile,

That made others want to stop and talk to you a while,

Or maybe it was because you showed interest in all they would say,

“Let me ask you a question”; you were curious about their day,

You were genuinely interested in everyone else’s story,

Selfless and caring, you didn’t need the glory,

They knew it and liked just how that felt,

Thinking of your charm makes my heart truly melt,

If eyes are the window to your soul, as they say,

Your window was open, and it was a sunny day,

It was those welcoming eyes that shined so blue,

That made you a stranger to very few.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  8/22/2018

Poetry Defined

What is Poetry?

Poetry is the sparkle in the toddler’s eye,

The songbird’s song, and it’s need to fly,

It’s the emotion of the day, without fear,

It is the calm before the rainbows suddenly appear,

Poetry is the cork in the bottle that’s about to pop,

It is the bright red cherry sitting right on top,

Poetry is a solitude that has to be shared,

An inner dwelling of strength with nothing compared,

It is above judgement or critique,

It is what it is; the heart must speak,

The thoughts are genuine, individual and real,

Poetry expresses what I feel,

It’s a mirror to the soul, an image in time,

Which is why I like to write words in rhyme,

Poetry is the icing on the 7-tiered cake,

It is a work of art that anyone can make,

It is a painting done without the paint,

It is creativity without constraint,

A mood, a tone, like musical notes,

Transferable, much like famous quotes,

Poetry is the sparkle in a toddler’s eye,

The songbird’s song, and it’s need to fly.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  8/8/2018

Empty Cup

Numb

I seem to be in a writing lull,

My ideas:  they are quite dull,

I have writer’s block, I think it is called,

I am frustrated and very appalled,

I need to sharpen my poem-writing ax,

I need to split hairs, and that’s a fact,

I want to create, but my mind is hollow,

There are no instructions or recipe to follow,

Words generally flow like water from a well,

From my heart to my head, almost too fast to spell,

But nowadays I am speechless, muted: the well has run dry,

I can’t write my poetry, though I try, and I try,

It’s a gift that is wrapped and I’m ready to open it up,

I need to refill my imaginary cup,

It is healing to write, and I need to heal,

Numb is the word that describes how I feel.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  8/7/2018

You can't pour from an empty cup.

On a Speedway going Nowhere

Rambling On

I have so many thoughts inside my head,
So many words that could be said,
My mind is spinning like a child’s toy top,
I try to shape my thoughts, but the top won’t stop,
The perpetual motion keeps me from thinking clearly,
I need to sort out my words to express myself sincerely,
A racing mind puts me on a speedway track,
Running at high speed with no turning back,
It’s frustrating, exhausting, and highly confusing,
Almost laughable, but not at all amusing,
It’s the beginning of something that has no ending,
An infinity sign, a path I am not recommending,
When will the checkered flag wave? When will my mind come to rest?
My thoughts are going east, and my thoughts are going west,
If my mind were an egg, I’d say it is scrambled,
Thus, this poem has developed, where I have rambled and rambled.

Tammy Harvey
Written: 7/23/2018 

A Guest Poet (my Dad)

This poem was written by my Dad many years ago, but I still remember all the words.

The Lamplighter

I met a stranger in the night,

His light had failed to shine,

He passed, and lit his light from mine,

Then a storm came that night that shook the world about,

And when it all had ceased, it was my light that was out,

Back the stranger came, his lamp was glowing fine,

He had preserved his precious flame,

The lamp he lit was mine.

John Paschal 

A Small Token

God is in the Details

Even if you don’t know what to say,

Give some kindness away today,

The gesture can be very small,

A smile, a wave, anything at all,

It’s the little things that mean the most,

It’s not about you, no need to boast,

A nod, a thank-you, or have a nice day,

A small token of compassion goes a long way,

God is in the details, none too superfluous,

“Love one another as He first loved us”,

Random acts of kindness are too few and far between,

Kill your enemies with kindness, if you know what I mean,

It takes 10 positive remarks to negate one that is rude,

It’s all about your point of view and your attitude,

A nod, a thank-you, or have a nice day,

A small token of compassion goes a long way,

Empathy has enormous power,

It revives, like water to a wilting flower.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  6/12/2018

A Letter from Me

We had a Celebration of Life Service for my husband last Sunday, July 22, 2018.  We had a 20 min slideshow of wonderful photos, followed by a few words from family members.

I shared this poem with everyone.    

Dear Jerry,

Three days after you passed, I saw a wonderful sight,

On our backyard birdbath, a cardinal, red and bright,

Was he there by chance or purposefully visiting me?

As he took a long cool bath, I watched intently,

I think he was there to bring me gladness,

To give me comfort and hope, not sadness,

For you are rejoicing with the saints and never growing weary,

In a realm of great love and peace where everyone is cheery,

In the presence of God, your eternal resting place,

But I do miss that beautiful smile upon your bearded face,

Our lives changed tremendously in less than one full year,

God’s grace was sufficient, and your faith was stronger than fear,

I admired your courage and resolve, your testimony was known,

You said to me from your heart: “Sometimes God’s will is not our own”,

I’ll always remember those words; they were so profound,

As I picture you being you, on Heaven’s holy ground.

Love,

Tammy

A Tribute

My Husband

Jerry Ray Harvey, born 22 minutes after his identical twin Gerry Jay, on April 26, 1958 in Wahiawa, Oahu, was taken to his eternal heavenly home on June 25, 2018.

His sparkling blue eyes lit up his face like a Christmas tree.  His enthusiasm for life was apparent.  He was a doer, a hard-worker with determination to provide well for his family.  He was a ball of energy with a never-give-up attitude.  He was conservative, but freely giving of his time and talents.  His joy came from helping other people.  He rarely passed an opportunity to lend a hand when others needed help.  His never-tire, never-complain, never-sit-still style was endearing.  He worked diligently for IBM for 33 years.  His goal was to retire at 55 years old, and that he did in 2013.  He then pursued a life-long dream of becoming a truck driver.  His opportunity came with FedEx, who gave him the necessary training to drive an 18- wheel, tractor-trailer.  He embraced that job with the same joy and passion as he did with any other task he endeavored to try.  No job was too intimidating for him.  He was a fix-it-yourself guy and attempted to resolve problems of any kind for anyone.  

He considered himself blessed even through his struggle with aggressive brain cancer.  He kept a positive outlook, inspiring others with his peaceful spirit.

Jerry is survived by his wife of 33 years, Tammy P. Harvey, and their 3 sons, Thomas N. Harvey (Danielle), Theodore R. Harvey (Cassie), and Joshua C. Harvey and his parents, Theodore C. and Sharon K. Harvey of  Effingham, SC.  He also was a proud grandpa to Charles E. Harvey, (son to Ted & Cassie).

One Day at a Time (Blog on Pause)

This may be a good time for me to put my Blog on Pause.  My husband and I just celebrated 33 years of marriage, and he recently had his 60th Birthday.  He is now under Hospice care after battling brain cancer since Oct 2017.  I would encourage all of you to take to heart what this poem says and live in the present because you never know what the future holds.  Every day is a gift.

The “Present”

The future is upon us and soon it will be the past,

The time spent on earth travels much too fast,

From a tiny embryo to a small, helpless baby,

To an invincible teenager; to a middle-aged lady,

To a gray-haired grandmother; to a decrepit woman on a cane,

The whirlwind of life has such joy- with a portion of pain,

At first, we thought we would never make it to ten,

It seemed so long to wait for, back then,

But one year goes by these days in a speedy flash,

It is no longer a marathon, it’s a 50-yard dash,

As children, we dreamed of being grown,

And now we are, youth is a covetous milestone,

If we live in the present, we will always be content,

We won’t wonder where all the time just went,

As we are reaching 60, and our hair is turning gray,

We may sense the days are quickly slipping away,

But in truth, each day is a gift, no matter our age,

Our life is much like a book:  we just turn the next page,

Each page, each chapter has its own story to impart,

We have the need to read ahead, the ending before the start,

However, one day at a time is a good pace to set,

We won’t cross the bridge we haven’t gotten to yet,

No worries, no dread, no regret, and no fuss,

We will enjoy the “present” God has given to us.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  5/20/2018

T-Rex Arms

Monkey in the Middle

The last flight I took was to Raleigh, ‘NC’,

Southwest Airlines – no assigned seats and no baggage fee,

I was the last one to board, and there were two empty seats,

One in the first row- lots of room for my feet,

I chose that one as opposed to the empty one in the rear,

Getting off first was appealing, and the urgency to be seated was clear,

The gentleman in the window seat was, let’s say, a rather large man,

He took up his seat and part of mine, imagine this if you can,

He was sleeping soundly when I sat down; he took advantage of the wait,

We were all boarded now, but we hadn’t even left the gate!

In a comfortable position was he; his arms and legs were sprawling,

He was snoring like a freight train, and my skin was creepy crawling,

His arm draped over our shared armrest; his knee pressed into mine,

The aisle seat passenger next to me was probably 6 ft- nine,

I was monkey in the middle, with my elbows pressed together, and

my hands pushed under my chin,

When the flight attendant passed by me, she gave a little grin,

She served us drinks, he did not wake; and she did not disturb him,

I had a soda and a bag of nuts, but was not sure how I’d open them,

My Tyrannosaurus Rex arms were lacking any range of motion,

I was wedged in as tightly as an anchor in the bottom of the ocean,

Not a long flight from Nashville to Raleigh, but it seemed like it was to me,

It was comical, yet uncomfortable, I’m sure you would agree,

The loudly snoring man awoke as the wheels hit the runway,

He was oblivious to the entire flight, but maybe he’ll read this someday.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  4/21/2018