It no longer fits into my new life.
So, to make room for more, it must leave me:
Beloved bringer of joy, moving on,
Exporting joy into territories
It hadn’t seen before. Adventure calls.
New friends fidget, waiting with open arms,
Glad to take it right on into their hearts,
And this should make me happy. It ought to
Make me happy to know it has a life
Prepared just over the next horizon.
Untold joys—and maybe a few sorrows—
Target my old faithful, stiff, wooden friend.
Alas! I cannot help but mourn its loss
Today. Tomorrow, maybe, I can feel
Elation for its good fortune to be
Desired in a day when electronics rule.
November 27, 2018
After this post, I may not have reliable internet access for an unspecified period of time.
My husband and I are moving on to greener pastures, but also sending our youngest two away for college. We are in a period of transition that is both bursting with hope and joy, and, paradoxically, filled with more overflowing, unexpected sorrows than I would have imagined. So many prayers are being answered all at once, while good changes that we have all anticipated for a couple of years, are harder to swallow than we initially realized. I wouldn’t change anything, but I am definitely experiencing some deep mourning. I won’t rush through it. And I will praise God through my tears, though, truly, both my dogs and I (and maybe even on occasion, my outwardly-stoic husband) will probably be crying into our blueberries for endless minutes at a time in the foreseeable future.
I thank you for your forbearance and any prayers you want to raise on our behalf. May God bless you with a joyful Advent and Christmas season!
It’s my time to relinquish,
And relinquish, Lord, I will:
I’ll trust Your kindly pruning hands,
And bend me to Your will.
And though my leaves are falling fast,
I’ll trust You through my pain,
And know that when the time is right,
You’ll make me grow again.
November 8, 2018
I simply could not help starting to screech
Now that it invaded my space like that.
My shoes and flyswatter were not in reach,
Yet, I needed something to smash it flat, FLAT!
By a thin thread, from the ceiling it bounced:
A nightmare of fangs and pointing fingers.
Threats to my good health it announced:
Hellish apparition of bites and stingers,
Ready to stab me in the eye, I suppose.
Oh, it was nothing I wanted to see
Or have hovering close to my nose!
My home should be forever spider-free!
February 28, 2018
After escaping a very scary attack right over my bathtub, once the drama was over, and I was ready to face the world, I carried the notes for this poem to church with me, I’m afraid, and I finished the poem during the sermon. Sigh.
Three of the lines have 11 syllables instead of the standard 10. I tell myself it’s because my heartbeat was irregular and erratic during this scary spider incident.
How I long for the days when keys were just keys:
Those days so simple and so grand,
Before the times when for big dough
I’d clutch a computer tight in hand:
A computer I could break or lose,
That comes with problems I’d refuse,
Which can’t for a small pile of change
Be easily replaced or changed.
A smart key’s great for perfect folks,
Not quite so fine for careless blokes.
July 14, 2018
Salvation in a cameo
May not be seen, except the joy
And beauty which refresh the eye,
And these sweet things God might employ.
Not everything screams, “Look to God!”
But scorning such may be a lie:
“Just entertainment!” which is flawed,
And may small hints of God deny.
“Just entertainment!” may be bad
If filled with ugly, hurtful things,
But are not joy and laughter sweet
When these are Heaven’s offerings?
And flowers, though they do not speak,
Or funny jokes, which don’t demean,
Can brighten up a day gone bleak:
Let’s put them where they may be seen!
These things build hope and lighten loads,
For “froth” may turn tired hearts to God.
So let us let them be the goads,
And let us these good gifts applaud!
June 15, 2018
Flights of fancy fill my mind with stories
Unbridled from the ordinary day’s
Telling poured out from this life’s glories.
Untrained to wait quietly, they light the
Realm of word patterns dancing from my pen;
Easel of colorful delight they spin.
Poetic vistas they paint, offering
Oasis for a time, and so I must
Embrace them and again begin writing.
This gives me unexpected joy, and the
Lone words find a home, dancing from my pen
And telling their news like young children
Unconditionally babbling on
Rivers: building sand castles of words.
Each one laughs and joyfully carries on,
Appeasing my hunger for rhymes, and the
Towers quickly rise, dancing from my pen:
Each knows I’ll gladly do it all again.
July 22, 2018
Well, here I am with some old, unhealed scars,
Intent on never having to endure
Things that hurt my heart again, keeping scores
Hidden but active, remaining quite sure
That I should not have to put up with this
Harassing irritant any more. So
Each new time I face it, whatever bliss
Formerly filling my heart turns to go.
Lusting for escape, I’m drinking distress
And wondering if it will ever end
Waging war on my fragile, crumbling peace,
Shot all to pieces, devoid of defense.
Opening painful wounds that make me cry.
Focus fixing firmly on my offense:
Overwhelming offense keeps piling high:
This thing is impossible to dismiss.
How can I change myself from this critic
Engaged zealously in finding those flaws
Resuscitating my angst, sharp cynic
Shouldering endless offense without cause?
June 8, 2018
My friend Lucille, one of the spiritual giants in my life, tells me that what has been happening here is spiritual warfare “pure and simple” and that I must resist it and then the devil will flee from me. With that in mind, I have been praying for God to deliver me from a judgmental spirit, and I will be meditating upon Psalm 119:65 “Great peace have they which love thy law: and nothing shall offend them” and Psalm 35:1 “Plead my cause, O LORD, with them that strive with me: fight against them that fight against me.”
I know that probably none of you struggle with these things. But on the off chance that you do, please pray for me. And tell me how I can pray for you.
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Those ugly memories refuse to fade,
Offending me again with my old sin—
OLD NEWS: Through Jesus’ blood, it’s all been paid.
Kind, loving gift on which my hopes are stayed.
Christ knew ahead of time about my sin
And ugliness that does not want to fade.
Remembering the love that He conveyed
Expels the worries that build up within:
One and all through Jesus’ blood has been paid.
Full payment for my sins my LORD has made.
The awful price need not be paid again.
Harsh memories can shrink and start to fade.
Accepting God’s sweet gift, I am remade.
The old no more defines the new within.
Forgiven fully: through Christ’s blood, all was paid.
Oppressive thoughts that wield Regret’s sharp blade,
Remove yourselves! God’s healing has come in.
My memories that once refused to fade?
Each one through Jesus’ blood was fully paid.
June 25, 2018
And, oh, what a relief it is!