My heart is swayed by shiny things:
Attentive smiles and flatterings.
LORD, plant my heart in things above,
And hold me steady in Your love.
July 11, 2016
My heart rejoices at this smell,
Announcing good things are to come:
Killed out the drought we knew too well,
Engaged the drops that windows drum.
Surrounded by the clouds we prayed
Might come, we find our hopes renewed.
Enriched by water, fears allayed:
Sure sign the dry spell is subdued.
Oh, Rain, you fall a welcome gift!
How much more welcome than you know:
Around these parts our spirits lift,
Provided you make crops to grow:
Provided you make crops to grow,
You’re much more welcome that you know.
June 9, 2018
When I showed this poem to my friend Gail, she said, “Now that we are in such a dry place, rain is not the nuisance it used to be in other places. – I wonder that other blessings we receive that we are not seeing at the time.”
If you want to pray for us for rain, that would not hurt our feelings at all. Thank you.
I think about the joys that are waiting,
Not here yet, but calling our names. Calling,
“Hey! Get ready! Something great is coming:
Expect better things than you have yet known!”
And all who have any pain will be healed.
Volumes of God’s good plans will be revealed.
Everyone who accepts God will be blessed.
Nowhere in God’s home will sorrow remain.
Where every joy pours freely from God’s heart
Into those who accept His love, we know
That those whose wounds are still raw will be healed.
Heaven’s purpose for pain will be revealed.
Cherishing all our tears, Jesus welcomes
Home all who are His own: those He loves who
Really do love Him in return, and then,
Incredibly, all who move there will see
Scars and wounds that plagued our lives, fully healed,
Transformed, and through these, future joys revealed.
June 1, 2018
For a slightly more complete picture of Heaven, I would like to refer you to Scot McKnight’s excellent book, The Heaven Promise. I have so enjoyed it, and pray you may as well.
Some of my longer-term readers may be aware that I have coined a phrase for one of my poetry templates that I call a daffodil, basing it loosely on William Wordsworth’s poem “The Daffodils”. In this latest iteration of my daffodils, only EE repeating rhyming lines show up, though the six-line pattern remains. Though we do not begin with the normal ABAB, etc. rhyme schemes, I think this fits the message of this poem well because the greatly uncharted rhyme scheme fits well with what we don’t know about Heaven, if that makes any sense. Anyway, I hope you will have enjoyed dreaming with me of the joys of Heaven and the goodness of God.
Here I lay my idol down
Since I see I do not need it.
It lies dying on the ground,
And henceforth I will not feed it.
It had never served me well:
Made demands that were unruly.
Though I honored it each day,
Its design was just to fool me.
So, I’ll lay this idol down,
And no more will I embrace it.
Though it paints in colors bright,
I no longer have to face it,
Or adopt its deadly songs
Of old dreams that could not save me.
How it overflowed with wrongs!
But these Jesus has forgave me.
So, I lay my idol down
As I turn my heart to Jesus.
With a smile and not a frown,
From these deadly things He frees us.
May 20, 2018
Without their close scrutiny chasing us down,
It’s hard to imagine just who we might be.
Though truly their actions are making us frown,
Herein lie hard truths of what outsiders see.
Oh, help us to listen, oh help us to heed
Unwanted opinions on how we now live.
These insights they share may be just what we need.
Outspoken, unfeeling: such hard gifts they give!
Unless we are teachable, these may be lost.
Regarded, they may help us open our eyes.
Defamed though we feel, image comes at a cost,
Entangling those who refuse to be wise.
Then let us embrace these hard gifts as they come.
Redeeming their sorrows, let’s learn to forgive.
As Jesus has said, we can please only some:
Committed to God, it’s for Him we should live.
The ones universally praised live life wrong:
Offending our Savior is our only care.
Remember our God sees our worth. We belong
Standing firm by His side, and He welcomes us there.
May 16, 2018
for Meghan, for Ruth, and in recent minutes, for Haden
“Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But words will never hurt me!”
This lie is heard around the world
When wounded hearts are hurting.
We chant it to calm down our souls
When enemies are blurting
Those painful words that pinch and stab:
We want to stop the hurting.
But truly words can wound so deep
The wounded find no healing
From painful words that careless souls
Cast out without kind feeling.
Let’s turn to God to heal our hearts
When painful, mean words find us.
When words deliver worlds of hurt,
I pray these words remind us:
“While sticks and stones are breaking bones,
And unkind words may hurt me,
Jesus has come to heal my heart
When other friends desert me.”
May 24, 2018
Bunnies needed now to eat down our weeds:
Rich harvest, well-watered, ready to serve.
It would help if you could hurry! Indeed,
Now would be the best time, and you deserve
Good, all-natural greens to build your health!
Everyone who’s anybunny should be
Voraciously chowing down on our green wealth,
Expunging the yard of all the weeds you see.
Rid, rid the yard of each unwanted weed!!
You know you need to eat anyway; so
Of course, we’ll let you have all you need.
Necessary nutrients you need grow
Endlessly, expanding their territory
Yet further and further day by day.
Only you and yours can help us, and we
Urge you, Dears, to render aid right away:
Kindly destroy every weed in the place.
No weed here will be off limits for you.
Our yard’s at your disposal: every place
Where you see weeds. So, see what you can do!
May 16, 2018
One of the neighbors happened to tell one of the wild rabbits in the yard that it needed to invite all its friends over to eat down the weeds. “Bring everyone you know!” he urged. The bunny hopped off. Not sure he understood the invitation.
Because I had no idea it would—
Yep!—take an unexpected flying leap
Heading straight for the floor before I could
Overpower and restrain it. This cheap,
Wiley dairy concoction had a mind—
Wouldn’t you know it! — set on suicide.
Everyone knows ice cream—any you find—
Lacks all self-control, and may not abide,
Long-suffering though its lovers may be,
Intimidation or control tactics.
Just when you think that maybe you can see
Under and into its inner motives,
Good grief! The whole thing goes out of control,
Giving plenty of grief at every turn.
Let this be a warning, unwary soul:
Every ice cream will give you some concern.
It’s what gives its dull, dairy life meaning,
Calling it out of bed early on and
Expecting all takers to be cleaning,
Cleaning, cleaning all the messes at hand.
Right now, I am telling you the whole truth:
Expect the unexpected. Get prepared
And ready to react when this uncouth
Master of surprises catches you unaware.
April 29, 2018
All this trouble for just one spoon–ok, not exactly a small spoon–of ice cream! Sigh!
If they take flight near my house, day or night,
Nothing good comes from it. My dog barks loud,
Then we end up chasing ghosts. It’s not right:
Here is not a good place to find them, right?
Ev’ryone can see that. They should not crowd
Or take flight too near my house, day or night:
Respect my space, and I’ll respect theirs, right?
Yep. I admit it—I’m not too proud—
Nor foolhardy: it would not be right
Or smart to hold them close: one or more might
Try something dangerous—and not allowed!—
Perhaps, when too near my house, day or night,
Really get wild and crazy. And they might
Attack us for a meal (prepare our shroud),
Catalog our weak points (which is not right)
To take what they can get: They might just bite
Into pieces ev’ryone close: their crowd
Could destroy my family, day and night,
Extend to us no grace, which can’t be right.
April 23, 2018
Our dog has been barking at odd times during two of the three last nights. We can find no reason for this. I told my husband and son that surely we ought to find cougar or bear prints, or something. But it looks like our dog may be just making up stories in his head because he is bored at night. I thought that the above explanation, though patently outlandish, might at least be more interesting than the lies that the dog has been telling.
Here, through the eyes of loss and grief,
I’ve groaned and sighed and shared my pain,
While finding naught to bring relief,
Or from my blessings purge this stain.
And “Friends are false!”
And “Hope is dead”:
Such were the thoughts
That filled my head.
But Jesus knew great sorrow, too,
Which people sometimes may forget,
And sorrow filled Him through and through
The night before His cross was set.
And pains and thorns
Beset His way
As He His Father
So now, like Christ, I look above:
Above to Him Who knows my pain:
Whose plans are good, Whose heart is love,
Whose trust I want through life to gain.
I’ll trust God’s heart.
I’ll trust His love.
And rest someday
With Him above.
And rest in peace
In Heav’n above.
March 31, 2018