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.

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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!  

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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

                               

                                                                                             

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.

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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?”

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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

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.

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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.) 

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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