There was ice and snow for two whole days. đ¤Śââď¸
~Toni Armenta aandrukaitis
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It looks like our winter storm is over for now, but it ainât over til the fat lady sings. OK, Iâm not even going to go there. đ¤Śââď¸đś Itâs been a good week, with good food, fine friends, and many blessings. Happy Monday.
Well, itâs the day after Christmas, and itâs mostly been merry
But, with all of this Covid, itâs kind of been scary.
Weâre trying to keep safe, staying home, and not dwell
But, this has been more like the Christmas from hell.
~Toni Armenta Andrukaitis
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âLet your child be the torch of truth and they shall shine over the entirety of the human society brightening even the darkest corners.â â Abhijit Naskar
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I didnât go to Mass today because of the new Covid outbreak, warnings and. Scary stuff going on, so I watched Mass on Facebook from my Church in McKinney. It was kind of nice, felt like home.
Todayâs Gospel was the story of Jesus being found in the temple when He was only 12. His parents were frantic looking for Him. He answered that He was in His Fatherâs house.
Holy Gospel of Jesus Christ according to Saint Luke 2,41-52.
Each year Jesus’ parents went to Jerusalem for the feast of Passover, and when he was twelve years old, they went up according to festival custom. After they had completed its days, as they were returning, the boy Jesus remained behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Thinking that he was in the caravan, they journeyed for a day and looked for him among their relatives and acquaintances, but not finding him, they returned to Jerusalem to look for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions, and all who heard him were astounded at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him, they were astonished, and his mother said to him, “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.” And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” But they did not understand what he said to them. He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things in her heart. And Jesus advanced (in) wisdom and age and favor before God and man.
My take on it… Even though Mary and Joseph were worried about Jesus, He was not concerned because He felt like that is where He was supposed to be, learning and asking questions. Sometimes our own children are much wiser than we can imagine. Itâs good to listen to them sometimes.
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The rest of my day was pretty quiet. The aftermath of Christmas presents, and wrappings, and playing and food had set into calm. All that preparation for just one day.
The sun popped out for a while and Saint Francis was catching a few rays out in the backyard.The girls bundled up and Mommy went out and played with them a while, I went for a nice long walk and got around 5,000 steps in.
I hope you had a delightful day after Christmas, too.
Three years ago today, a beautiful memory and miracle worth repeating. I was in Chicago with my family, making arrangement and preparing for the memorial service for my sweet angel mother. This miracle from Mom needs to be shared again.
AS ONLY ANGELS CAN
If you donât believe in angels
Iâm here to say itâs true
There are angels up in heaven
Theyâre watching over you,
So, I asked my angel mother
I whispered in her ear
When you get up there in heaven
Please show us you are near.
If only you could send a sign
As only angels can
We will know youâre safe in heaven
And that you have a plan.
To watch and guard us every day
Youâll guide us from above
So, you left two lucky pennies
Beneath your painting, signed with love.
~Toni Armenta Andrukaitis
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This is a true story of faith and love and angels. As my sweet mother grew weaker and less alert, my sister and I would talk to her and sing to her. I prayed the rosary out loud to comfort Mom during her final days in hospice. One of the last things I whispered in her ear was, âPlease Mom, when you get up to heaven, could you show us a sign that youâre OK, that there really is a heaven? I know if anyone could do it, you could. I know youâll always be my guardian angel.â
Weâve done a lot of crying since Mom passed away last week, but today, the crying was a celebration. Mom left us a sign. Those of you who know me, you already know that I believe in lucky pennies. They always appear out of nowhere when I need them most. I always look up to heaven and say, âThank you.â
This afternoon, my sister and I went out for some lunch. Weâve spent days and days sorting and reminiscing and making arrangements and crying, Itâs been a whirlwind, so it was good to get out of the house for a little while. My sister said, âLetâs go to the library so I can vote. They have early voting, and we can return Momâs audio-books.â
Well, early voting hadnât started yet, so we just returned the books and got a bit teary-eyed, because Mom loved the library and all the people. She had donated her very large âCinco de Mayoâ painting to the library several years ago. It takes up an entire wall on the second floor. When I asked my sister if she needed any books or videos while we were there, she said, âNot really, letâs just go home.â Then I said, âShould we go upstairs and see Momâs mural before we go?â Of course, we needed to do that.
The elevator opened and we walked ever so slowly towards the mural.
There on the bench, right beneath her painting, were two lucky pennies from heaven. We both burst into tears as I blurted out, âHereâs our sign. I asked Mom to send us a sign. Here it is! Two pennies, not just one. What are the chances that they would be here waiting for us today, right beneath her painting?â
I hadnât told my sister the story about asking Mom to send us a sign right before she passed away, until that moment. If she didnât believe in angels before, Iâm pretty sure she does now. We both knew Mom was an angel here on earth, but now, we both know that sheâs up in heaven. She gave us a sign.
Thanks Mom.
So, for todayâs Gospel according to Mark… Jesus was in the dessert for 40 days, tested by Satan. He was with wild beast, attended by angels. After Johnâs arrest, Jesus appears in Galilee, proclaiming The Good News, the reign of God is at hand.
My take on it… there will always be temptations by Satan, but if we remain faithful and strong, we will be honoring God and the Good News. We will be attended by angels.
I feel fortunate to be guided by angels here on earth, right now. Amen
Happy Sunday, my friends. I hope you believe in Angels too.
âThree years ago today, another lovely angel was greeted at the gates of heaven.â-Toni Armenta Andrukaitis
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I wrote this poem three years ago when my amazing mother went to heaven. Itâs a bitter-sweet memory and tribute to the kindest woman that ever walked the earth. I know she smiles down on me every day, and does her best to keep me out of trouble. (Itâs a tough job, but sheâs been known to perform miracles before.) LOVE YOU MOMâ¤ď¸
MY ANGEL MOTHER
Thereâs another angel in heaven
Today her soul took wing
Sheâs up in heaven dancing
While the other angels sing
All were waiting for her
Their arms stretched open wide
To greet my angel mother
There on the other side.
~Toni Armenta Andrukaitis
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Words cannot express the extreme sadness nor the joy that heaven has found a new angel.
Love you Mom.
A short video of my sweet angel mother and her beautiful smile and laughing eyes……
Modern storytellers are the descendants of an immense and ancient community of holy people, troubadours, bards, griots, cantadoras, cantors, traveling poets, bums, hags and crazy people. – Clarissa Pinkola Estes
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Normally, my Thursday is my Quarantined Karaoke Thursday post, but when I was checking Facebook today, I saw my old story about Tommy the wandering troubadour. No one has seen him around McKinney for a few years. I sure hope he is O.K. and singing, laughing and making new friends. (Tommy singing “Homeward Bound,” below. Check out the YouTube video. Has anyone seen Tommy?)
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TOMMY AND MABLE
Tommy sat on the cold metal bench outside a little coffee shop in downtown McKinney. His raspy muffled voice crooned a soft country song, while aged yet agile fingers strummed across the well worn strings of a blue acoustic guitar. Salt and pepper hair brushed across a ruddy bearded face as a crisp north wind kicked up. Tommy reached over to secure the two wrinkled dollar bills flapping inside the open guitar case. He carefully tucked the ends of the bills under the small stack of prized CDs bearing his image and that of Mable, his faithful companion of thirty-seven years.
Johnny Cash’s, “Ring of Fire,” soulfully echoed across the Square, and Tommy’s foot tapped along with each rhythmic beat. I dragged a wooden chair across the brick sidewalk, and then parked myself a couple feet away from the real-life Texas troubadour. I enjoyed each rendition of old familiar tunes, as well as the original compositions inspired by nearly forty years of life on the road.
“Tommy, would you mind telling me a little bit about yourself, ” I asked when he took his first cigarette break. “Where are you from?”
“I was born in McKinney, Texas. Haven’t been back here in over thirty years.” His tone and demeanor became a bit more serious when he described his early childhood.
“Yep, I was born right here in McKinney. My folks got killed when I was thirteen. They wanted to put me in foster care, so I took off and rode the rails. Never looked back. Been traveling ’round the country ever since.”
His eyes brightened and a little crooked smile appeared when he started talking about Mable. “We’ve been together for thirty-seven years now. I was rummaging around in a dumpster looking for cans one day, when I ran across this old black guitar with a broken neck. She was in bad shape, but I fixed her up with some glue and tightened up her strings.”
The adventures were mixed with making new friends and happy times, sprinkled with the hard hungry days.
“We’ve walked across all these forty-eight states, just playing music for folks and living off what they put in my guitar case.”
Tommy went on to describe the nomadic life of a traveling troubadour. âIâve never run into anyone else who does this. It’s an honest livin’. I don’t beg. I just play my music and if folks like what they hear, they drop a dollar or two in my case. Sometimes I’d ride the rails from one town to the next or just walk ’till I couldn’t walk no more.”
I listened as he carefully crushed the tiny cigarette butt beneath his worn out walking shoe and tossed it in the trash can beside the bench. “I don’t stay in one town for more than a few days. Never had a wife or kids. Wouldn’t be right, with me movin’ round so much. Wouldn’t change a thing if I could.”
When I asked about Mable, he said she was named after his beloved grandmother. The old black acoustic guitar with hundreds of scrawled signatures from front to back, now sat in the window of Snug on the Square, just a few feet away. I asked if I could take a picture of him and Mable, so he walked over and took her out of the window. I could see the jagged repair on her neck and her strings were missing.
“Mable’s retired. When you retire a guitar, you take off the strings. Need ’em for the next one.” Then he pointed out the spot where Elvis had scribbled his name one rainy night in ’69 in Mobile, Alabama. But, he was just as proud of the signatures from a group of women that signed her after a Susan B. Koman walk a few years back.
â I decided that it all began here, so it should end here. I’m leaving Mable with Sandra and these nice folks. I know they’ll take good care of her.”
Tommy mentioned that when he came back to McKinney after being gone for so long, he strolled along the unfamiliar streets and asked around at a few shops and restaurants downtown to see if he could set up somewhere and play his guitar. Sandra Nichols, owner of Snug on the Square, was the only one who welcomed him and treated him with respect. “That’s when I knew my Mable would have a good home and a good family right here. They’re going to keep her right there in the window.”
I was intrigued by the story of Tommy and old Mable, especially the long and loving relationship the two shared. So, of course, I was curious about the new acoustic.
“Tommy, what’s the name of your new guitar? I was sure it would be another interesting story.
He turned his whiskered face and answered, “Haven’t named her yet. She’s gotta earn it.”
After taking a few pictures and recording a couple segments of Tommy serenading and smiling at passers-by, I said farewell to the wandering minstrel from McKinney. I shook his talented weathered hand and dropped all the cash I had in the old black guitar case. Who knows when Tommy will be passing this way again?
âFlying starts from the ground. The more grounded you are, the higher you fly.â
â J.R. Rim
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My days are filled with friendship, family and gratitude, and my Friday night always ends with a yummy chocolate ice cream Black Russian. This isolation and pandemic nightmare keeps us apart, but we have technology to keep us connected.
The early afternoon was a little cooler today, after a refreshing late night rain, so I went for a lovely walk around the pond. This beautiful bird was floating around the edge, I think it’s a crane? It made me think how lucky he is to fly and have that freedom.
LET YOUR HEART TAKE WING
A bird in flight, both day and night
What freedom that must bring.
To soar above, to fall in love
And let your heart take wing.
~ Toni Armenta Andrukaitis ( I just made this up on the spot. Pretty cool, huh?) I love impromptu poetry. How about you? I could write about a shoe. (Rhyme time- and I haven’t even started drinking yet. I’m just silly)
My day was so exciting that I took a nap in the early evening. Not that I was tired, I was just bored and it was hot and muggy. (Now, I’ll be up all night.)
But, it’s Friday night and time for my traditional Black Russian Friday.
âThe gentle rose offers a powerful joy known only to the heart.â
â Andrew Pacholy
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A SINGLE ROSE
I picked a single rose
From my flower bed today.
This has much more meaning
Than a hundred rose bouquet.
Roses from a florist
Or a grocery store display
Could never match the love
That a homegrown rose can say.
~Toni Armenta Andrukaitis
A lot of sitting around on a Saturday calls for a little poetry. Sometimes, I just see something special and decide it needs a poem. Not just any kind of poem, but a homegrown inspired right from the heart poem.
I keep promising myself that I’m going to put together a book of my poems inspired by my paintings or photographs. But, it turns out I am much better at procrastination than determination. Someday?
I took a nice evening walk before dusk, and as I sat on a bench, I contemplated my day and my single rose. Inspiring.
Mother, you left us beautiful memories, your love is still our guide, although we cannot see you, you’re always at our side.
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY IN HEAVEN
Mourning doves whisper, while the cardinal sings,
They chirp and fly past me on soft angel wings.
Today, seven butterflies brushed past my face,
Reminding me that Momâs in a special place.
Today is her birthday, so now you can see,
Why these winged creatures were following me.
I asked for a sign, before she slipped away,
âWhen youâre up in heaven, send a sign youâre okay.â
Maybe itâs Mom, or just a sign from above,
My angel in heaven is sending her love.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM
~Toni Armenta Andrukaitis
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Today has always been special, and I was usually in Chicago on June 6th to help celebrate Mom’s birthday on this day. So many beautiful memories of this beautiful angel. I’m sitting here crying, watching this video of my memories of Mom. Oh, but they are such happy tears. Trini graced this earth for over 90 years, and that alone is something to celebrate. She made the world a better place and everyone who had a chance to meet her adored her.
I know she is in heaven, because she sent us a sign, her two pennies beneath her mural. Not everyone gets a sign from an angel, but I knew if anyone could, it would be Mom.
So, Happy Birthday MOM!!!! Save me some cake and ice cream.