Author Archives: Mechelle Ritchie Foster

Almost A Riddle

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A circle is round

In fact, it is bound

To be round for as long as it exists

A circle cut in half

Is only half round as it once was

And as a circle, almost unrecognizable

You can no longer roll it about

A wheel? It just won’t do

Need a button or a dial?

It’s simply not for you.

When folded, almost triangular

No other circle quite so strange-ular

And devoid of its rounded pride

Is now a circle with three sides

Half of half a circle

Resembles a piece of pie

But it certainly doesn’t taste like one

Unless it was a pie, to begin with.

First Born

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It’s amazing how difficult it is to be firstborn

The second does not understand

They see privilege

Favoritism

Unfairness

Yet being firstborn comes with so much responsibility

It’s built-in

It’s part of the job

It looks like bossiness

But it’s protection

It looks like don’t wanna play

But it’s growing up

It looks like never share

But it’s longing for something

Anything that is exclusively yours

Firstborn means

Being in your own world sometimes

It means different teachers

Different friends

Different likes and dislikes

Different experiences

Different memories

It means moving at a different pace

Moving ahead

And eventually

It means leaving and not coming back

It’s not insensitive

It’s not uncaring

It’s just firstborn

A Picture’s Worth

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It has been said, “A picture is worth a thousand words” and yet I have always taken dozens of pictures to tell just one story. A birthday perhaps. A trip to the beach. Not to mention, Christmas. Christmas is in a photographic league of its own.

But these days, photographers edit their pictorial words even before they snap the shot; composing from contorted angles to capture only part of a subject or half a smile. The art has become much more concise. Fewer and fewer pixels are needed. Even so, I find the old adage still true.

Morning

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What a beautiful time

Morning

When light is just arriving

Oh the joyful certainty of sunrise

It will not stay dark forever

Genesis 8:22 “As long as the earth remains, there will be planting and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night.”

Psalm 30:5b “Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.”

Scripture is taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. All rights reserved.

Cookies In The Elevator

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Sometimes I take the stairs, but not today. I mean, it wasn’t like I didn’t need to take them. I had been sitting for hours; sitting and waiting. And with random people handing out free dessert, I needed the stairs today more than ever. Yes, there were times I stood, only to sit right back down again. I was greeting friends, old and new. Standing is almost exercise. And what about anticipation? Anticipation does excite the heart. Yes, we waited with much anticipation this morning; anticipation and joy. Joy was the other sweet treat distributed freely among us.

“Is she coming? Is it time?” “Almost. It’s taking a little longer than we expected,” he said. “It’s worth the wait,” I thought. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything!” I clutched my gift bag and smiled at the contents. Laughter and stories were shared; and then finally it was time.

“Are your cameras ready? Someone needs to get a video of this moment!” Someone? How about all of us?! With iCameras in hand, we silently huddled together straining for a glimpse of her. First came the husband in white and then her caregivers in blue. Then we saw her! “Yay!” we yelled. She almost didn’t see us. Her eyes were focused on one thing. She had been waiting for this moment. None of us will ever know how much. A few instructions were given and then she grabbed the rope; and moving it swiftly from side to side, she rang the bell! Yes. We heard it. We were standing there with her. But oh how it must have reverberated inside her. There were tears, of course. Tears of joy. Streams of victory and breaths of sweet release. Then one by one she hugged us all. She showed us her certificate of completion and her memorial bell. It didn’t ring very loudly- something she was determined to correct later. Then with one last look at her surroundings, in solidarity we walked toward the shiny, silver doors. All of us. And placing her in the center next to her little loves, we closed the doors, literally and figuratively; and ate cookies in the elevator.

For Shari. Thanking God she is now cancer free!