The View from Rockriver Hill

Our passage in Sunday School this week involved Joshua reminding the Israelites to remember of all the things the Lord had done for them to.  The Lord has been faithful to my family, too.    Remember  I remember.   How you saved the life of Ruth Bennett’s baby boy Who one day became my daddy And a servant of Your gospel.   How you saved Juanita Blackwell’s body from the flames And used a catholic priest visiting the hospital To save her soul.   How you brought Ruth’s son and Juanita’s daughter together To form a family Dedicated to you.   How you’ve sent their children Throughout Kern County Throughout California Throughout the country Throughout the world In service of Your gospel.   How you answered my prayer for a husband who loved you And his prayer for the wife You wanted him to have.   How you sent me to this wild and rustic place And gave me the courage, strength, and fortitude To fix broken things, To love when it’s diff

    We were a family.       Dad, Mom, Sister, Brother, Me.     One dog, some rodents.     We lived in a house That smelled like cowboy cookies And aging hamster.   Played hide and go seek Ate dinner around table Dug holes in back yard   Made purple plum jam Walked to school, roller skated. Mom read Narnia.   Dad preached and sang deep. We were the pastor’s family. Family camp every year.     Why was it urgent That we start our own families? Multiply we must.   Multiply we did. And I would not trade my kids For those days again. We are still family. Three siblings and their spouses 10 grand grandchildren.   But sometimes I miss Dad, Mom, Sister, Brother, Me. All under one roof.          

 Fellow CBU Alumni and poet Kaci Rigney graciously featured my poem, "Aging Hands" on her blog. It is a poem I wrote in response to the loss of my final grandmother this year, and watching my parents age.   Check it out at:  https://kacirigney.com/2022/03/25/featured-poet-sandra-rose-hughes/

What Grows Where You Live?  What Grows Here? By Sandra Rose Hughes   What grows here on Rockriver Hill with decomposed granite soil, Defensive space toil, scant water, wild currant briars, forest fires or gopher root-attacks thrown in?   Resentment can grow here, in our high desert loam, My heart knows this all too well. But so can juniper trees, and bull pines, And forgiveness--and fresh starts.   It’s too dry on our hill for cottonwood trees And it’s too cold for citrus, though we can’t help but try, And our pomegranates, peaches, and iris bulbs (do you need any?) Never seem to die.   Very little is convenient here-- still, we stay because,   Like the junipers and yuccas, This is our home.   We send down deep roots In search of water where we are, And we thrive.

       Fellow writer and poet Alicia Pollard featured my poem, "Wolf Song" in her Winter Eyrie Project. The wind howls. It growls, snarls, swirls, threatens, Curls about my cottage walls, Seeking chinks and gaps where it might slip in... To finish reading, click  HERE .  Thanks for all the encouragement, and for including me, Alicia!

  Dear Readers,  Since last September, I've been blessed to begin working toward a Digital Media and Advertising Certificate at Cerro Coso Community College online.      I wanted to get the certificate because I believed it would help me with non-profit fundraisers and ministry advertising, but it's turned out to be much, much more!       Last Semester I took "Digital Imaging," and learned about design and basic photoshop skills. I was thrilled when I realized it was essentially an art class, but with computers!        This Spring, I am taking "E-Commerce" to learn about how to run a business online.  I was less thrilled when I realized it was essentially a business class....but with computers.  (Though I am definitely more "artsy" than "business-y," it's been an extremely valuable class.)  In addition to giving me skills I can't understand how I've been living without all these years, I'm just having a blast going to sch