"It is never too late to be what you might have been."

~ George Eliot

Comments - and even criticisms - are welcome. It encourages me to know if my words touched a place in your heart; and criticisms show me how to improve. Thanks and have a wonderful day!

Friday, July 31, 2015

While the World Awakes Book!!!

Hello everyone! I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that, with God's help (and the help of a few others), I now have a book on Amazon. If you have enjoyed my blog posts, you will find many of my favorites included in the book, "While the World Awakes." Please follow the link below to go to Amazon and to rate my writing, if you would be so kind to do so. I look forward to hearing from you!


Sunday, June 21, 2015

A Penned Portrait

A Penned Portrait
Memories of Dad

Ritz crackers or Little Debbie’s
with Mt. Dew to top them off.
Simple things that say you, Daddy,
like drinking milk straight from the jug.
Recollections wrap me like a hug.

Curled up in your reclining chair,
leaning into the warmth of you.
Elmer Fudd’s chasing a gray hare.
Yosemite Sam’s guns are flashing.
Loved listening to you laughing.

Music dances in my memories,
each song a love note in its way.
Of all the songs you sang to me,
“Wake Up Little Susie” never fades
- so many records we once played.

Forehead furrowed with eyebrows raised
peering over glasses “What’d you say?”
We kids were loved and we were praised,
but in some things you didn’t play.
Rules were rules we were to obey.

The quiet moments that we shared
discussing the depths of God’s word,
deep discussions where you declared
Bible lessons learned in your youth;
teaching my heart to trust God’s truth.

Our rolling stone, you taught me well.
Change is adventure, not to be feared.
Some days fall flat, others excel.
Dare - for dreams are worth the vying.
True failure comes in never trying.

As I reminisce and rewind,
your love for Mom and family
is the utmost memory in my mind.
For the past, present and yet to be,
thank you, Dad, for all you are to me.


I could write a poem card worthy, 
too much like someone else's words.
I could write serious or silly. 
I prefer something never heard
...a penned portrait ideally. 

I wanted something that reflected my Dad and how much I am my Daddy's girl. I look like a younger reflection of my mother, but oh how much I am like my Dad in personality. He found one of my poems years ago and in his beautiful handwriting (much prettier than mine) he wrote, "Susie, I didn't know you could do this." 

I still have that note somewhere.  I hope when I deliver this poem to him later today, that it touches his heart. I can't imagine my life without him. I am the person I am today, because of lessons learned from Dad. 

Happy Father's Day to my Dad who is a jack of all trades, flawed in some ways, perfect in others!  
Heavenly Father, 
Thank you for my earthly father. The first man I ever loved! May You who sees the true heart of all men, bless him today and always. ~ Amen



Saturday, June 20, 2015

The Seed Sower

Photo credit: http://www.thesowerandtheseed.net

The Seed Sower

Stepping out of my comfort zone,
Stepping up in my faith and trust,
to follow the call from God’s throne
to do the thing I know I must.

Some are sent to sow the seed,
others meant to reap the return.     
I sense within myself the need
to sow seeds in the words I turn.

I question if the sewn will grow,
if they will sprout and reach the sky.
Sometimes it’s not for me to know.
What matters is, God knows I try.

As I surrender to God’s will,
may His gift given be not in vain
Here I am, Lord, use me still.
My gift, apply for heaven’s gain.

Years ago, I prayed for God to show me what my talent was to use for His glory. I knew some who sang with angel voices, play instruments, leave on mission trips to foreign countries to carry God’s word…What could I do? I couldn’t see it. A friend told my gift was my caring heart, but that wasn’t enough for me. It just didn’t feel like the right answer.

The Lord didn’t answer me immediately, but I kept persistently praying for Him to open my heart and reveal the answer to me. When He did reveal that it was my writing, I was taken aback. I had been writing off and on for years, even as a child, but I rarely shared my poems with others. Writing was like breathing to me; just something I do and feel lost without. So how could that be my gift? Again I prayed and asked God just to be sure. IF this is the gift He had given and wanted me to use, I said He would have to show me how. Before the Lord was finished with me that year, there was no doubt in my mind writing was indeed my gift. I started taking a Christian Writers’ Course. I flew to my first writers’ conference and I began sending my work off to others in hopes of sharing God’s love and praying to touch at least one life per poem/devotional. 

All that being said the world has gotten in the way of my gift by stealing my time. Too fatigued to think, how could I possibly write anything worth reading? Too frustrated and disgruntled with my own life, inspiration was often hidden due to my unhappiness. I knew I was (am) meant for more than what I had become. In hindsight how could I be happy when I was not using the gift God intended for me to use? So, this past week I have taken a leap of faith. Soon I will have more free time. I pray that God will once again whisper words in my ears to place in poems, to bless the lives of others and point them to the Father. As my prayer has always been before each poem, “Heavenly Father, what would You have me write today?”
My God, Author of my life,
With fear and trembling, and hope and joy, I open my arms wide and pray. Show me the way. Use me, Lord. Open the door and reveal the path that leads to Your will in my life. From before birth and even after my death someday, I am Yours, Lord. Use me as You will. ~ Amen

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Rainy Nights

 Rainy Nights

In the stillness of the evening
from the refuge of our room,
the approaching storm grumbles
as lightning flashes through the gloom.

The ratta-tat-tat of raindrops
drumming softly overhead
sounds in contrast to the thunder
rumbling of the downpour still ahead.

My head rests upon your shoulder.
Your heartbeat whispers in my ear,
cocooned within the covers,
content merely to have you near.

Eyelids close in blissful slumber,
coaxed by the torrent being shed,
the ratta-tat-tat of raindrops
drumming heavily overhead.

I don’t know about you, but I sure rest well when it rains. Something about a rainy night  is so relaxing it sings me right to sleep. I wonder if God planned it that way; the timpani drum roll of thunder, the wind rushing within the leaves and the tune of raindrops on the roof….Maybe in all His infinite wisdom God planned rain showers with that additional purpose in mind. 

God knows we need rest. Even the great I Am rested on the seventh day. I have always said there is no such thing as coincidence, especially not in God’s creations. We must simply be willing to open our eyes, our hearts and sometimes even our ears to realize the wonders that surround us. So tonight, with God as the Music Director of rain's lullaby playing on my roof, I look forward to a good night's sleep. I hope you have one too! 

(I know I usually have a picture to go with my posts, but as much as I love photography, my night photo skills are lacking. Maybe I can add one fitting the poem at a later date.) 
Rain Maker, Storm Creator, I thank You for cleansing the world, filling the lakes and streams and watering Earth’s gardens. And as if those tasks were not enough, in Your love and creativity, You wrapped songs within the storms for us to discover on our own. I appreciate each melody that rises and falls within the showers. You are amazing, Lord. None can compare to You. ~ Amen 

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Raindrops and Nursery Rhymes

photo from http://mickey-spectrum.deviantart.com/art/Rain-Rain-Go-Away-295110167

Raindrops and Nursery Rhymes

Black mud seizes firmly to my feet, clinging
like a swimmer sinking to a line clasping,
until it succeeds in suctioning off my shoe
and I’m left wobbling on one leg, not two.
Like the little teapot, short and stout,
I tip me over and…pull my shoe out.

As yet again raindrops splatter the ground. 
I close my eyes and simply sigh with the sound.
Thunder grumbles its displeasure over my head,
as he too complains about the rain I dread.
And though I sing, “rain, rain go away…”
the rascal refuses and chooses to stay.

I dash inside, sliding through the screen door,
squishing and squeaking, tracking mud ‘cross the floor.
I shiver with disgust, now I’m soaked to the skin.
It’s hard to believe that it’s storming again.
I call out, “It’s raining. It’s pouring!!!”
Only to find that old man once again snoring.

In weather like this, I might as well join him.

Rain, rain go away...I imagine I am not the only one sick of mud and yard that are now lakes. 

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

A Conversation Worth Continuing

A Conversation Worth Continuing

I am going to take a minute to fuss.
I can’t stand to hear someone cuss.
When with every other breath you swear,
in my opinion, you pollute our air.
Maybe you think you seem smarter.
Well, you need to think a little harder.
With every f-bomb that you drop,
your IQ points appear to plop.
With thousands of intelligent words
you simply repeat the slang you've heard?

You don’t care who you offend,
yet I’m expected to pretend
the verbal filth you spread is alright
even if there’s a child in sight?
With movies filled with cursing rants
(which I don’t enjoy, I simply can’t)
it’s not your fault the world’s amiss.
Still don’t you know you’re better than this?
Your character is reflected in the words you speak,
Choose! Words of wisdom or words that reek?

You must speak something worth hearing
to have a conversation worth continuing.

I recently heard a man who was critiquing a movie say that he thought the actress would have been sexier if she dropped an f-bomb every now and then. Really? Sexier? Has this world gone insane or simply him? Since when is it considered SEXY to cuss?

The conversations surrounding us are saturated with cursing. We can’t escape it. Whether we are in the work place, shopping in a store, attending a show or flipping through the songs on the radio; obscenities scorch our ears. Even some commercials on daytime TV are insinuating the words in a failed attempt to appear clever. Is it any wonder that even out of the mouths of babes come the occasional (or not so seldom) cuss word? And if the parents cuss, guess what? We teach by example, so the children are pretty much guaranteed to cuss as well. Is that what they really want to teach their kids? I guess if it doesn’t bother them to voice vulgarity around children, then it probably doesn’t matter to them if the little ones repeat their crude behavior.

Don’t get me wrong. The words out of my own mouth are far from perfect - from negativity and complaining, gossiping at times, to the occasional dirty word. Yes, I am ashamed to say that even I at times let out a word that I should have held back. I’m not proud of it. From experience I have learned, the more we are around people who cuss the more the likely that profanity will pop into our own minds and pop out of our mouths before we can catch it; all the more reason to be careful who we hang around with. As a preacher once told our congregation: “If you hold a clean paper plate in one hand and a paper plate covered in mud in the other, when you rub the two together, the clean is not going to rub off on the dirty. But, the mud will smear all over the clean every time.”

Because I know we all fall short, someone who occasionally lets one slip does not offend me so much (though there are certain words among swear words that I cannot stand at all). I am also aware that some honestly see no problem with it because they have been around that vocabulary all of their lives. Still, this doesn’t excuse them from not showing self-control around others.
My main complaint is with those who refuse to show any restraint and who don’t care who is around them while they let the obscenities fly. The person whose mouth is so filled with filth that they can’t speak two sentences without swearing truly needs to learn some control and courtesy. Truly, I want to say, “You kiss your babies with that mouth?” or “Do you talk that way when your grandmother visits?” If the answer is no, then don’t talk that way in public!

Now, I have been chastised and told that words are just sounds that come out of our mouth that man gave meaning to and that I shouldn’t let them bother me so much. Well, it is the truth that man did give these sounds meaning, but some of the definitions of those “sounds” are rude, hateful, obscene and downright vulgar. I for one would rather not hear them and I have that right! I am aware that we live in the United States of America where (for the moment) we have freedom of speech. Yet to some of us living in this land of freedoms, we prefer a land free from having to hear lewd, crude and X-rated language. I know it will never happen this side of heaven, but that’s my rant and now I’m done.

“But shun profane & vain babblings; for they will increase unto more ungodliness.” 2 Timothy 2:16

Thursday, May 14, 2015

My Mother's Love

My Mother's Love

My first memories are wrapped in you.
Your softly read stories soothed me to sleep.
Many hurts have been healed wrapped in your hugs.
Often and always, I’ve forever felt loved.      
They say no one is perfect and that may be so,
However, your love, Mom, must be close.
Endless and forgiving just like our Lord’s,
 I Realize that your love has taught me the most.  
 ‘So many prayers you’ve prayed for me.
Life lessons you’ve patiently guided me through,
 (Over and over again a time or two.)
Vast are the values you’ve passed along.
Every moment’s a blessing when shared with you, Mom.

Last year, I almost lost her. This past year, we've become much more aware of how each moment together is a treasure to thankful for and should never be taken for granted. I know, that’s an obvious fact; but it is one that all lose sight of in the daily rush of things.

With each illness, with each aged year that passes, with every death of a loved one; God sends us a reminder that those we hold dear won’t be with us forever. Cherish them while we can, spend time with them, listen to their stories (even if you've heard them before); give them the greatest part of you – your time and heartfelt attention.

By the grace and love of God, I still have my mom. He knew I still had lessons to learn from her. Of course, He is perfectly right. She (and my Dad) taught me what true love is. Now she is teaching me true strength of character and how to graciously face the advanced years. There will always be a new lesson to be learned - another lesson she has taught me, by example.

My mother’s love quenches like rain after a drought. It is soaked into the soul, danced in with childlike joy and savored with every drop of the tongue. In my lifetime, may I succeed in being at least half the woman she is in my eyes.

Thank you, Lord, for letting me have Mom on earth a little while longer. May I never take the extra time together for granted and may I be as much of a blessing to her as she is to me. ~ Amen