December 10, 2020

I was looking at my Grandmother Jones' information on Family Search and found where I had posted her poignant poem about feeding one of her children (my dad was one of four) and her compassion for mothers who didn't have enough food for their little ones. It touched my heart as I really didn't know her that well since she died when I was 9 years old and since it might touch yours as well, I decided to post it.

                                                            Feast with Tears

A tender poem written by my paternal Grandmother Elma Faye Barr  (Jones )who lived from 1889-1960. She was a Methodist Minister’s wife and had four children…three boys and a girl. 

You moor your midget ship and on brown feet,

You run to me for something good to eat. 

There is cool milk, sweet butter for your bread,

Thick marmalade and apples - sunned and red.

I have brown meat to slice, and fragrant broth;

There is a feast to lay on red checked cloth!

I glance into your lifted, eager face

And fight with tears before I take my place.

Because, small son, I fancy how it would feel 

If I were to tell you I could set no meal;

How can they bear it, women who must say,

“Be still my child, there is no bread today.”

 November 2020

Watching the falling leaves out my window stirred  a few sweet memories of our children playing in leaves that I wanted to capture in poetry. 

                             Autumn leaves 

 

                          

I watch the autumn leaves lazily falling one by one

Floating to the ground in the light of the golden Sun.

They sway, they dance, they land upon the ground

Ever so gently never making the slightest sound.

 Yet when  I walk upon them and crunch them beneath my feet

They crackle and move and cause  me to feel so sweet

As memories of autumns now past rush thorough my mind,

Of Children jumping into raked piles and then so hard to find.

Their cheeks are filled with joy and redness of the chilly air

But they jump and swirl and hide without the slightest care.

These autumn leaves and children remind me that time passes quickly by

And soon it is winter where we are old and the leaves have all gone dry.

So, dance and swirl and play without a care falling into a heap.

For the winter winds soon will blow and the snow will be so deep

Covering any leaves that may have escaped the rake and left behind

But never forgetting their lovely descent and the joys of childish minds. 

 

November 5, 2020

My sweet husband Gentz who will be celebrating his 65th birthday in two days loves to serve others....he is a blessing to his family and to many others. One Sunday as I was traveling to Pittsfield for church (Gentz had gone earlier for an early morning meeting) I thought about this dear man of mine who had changed his clothes a few times in the day before because that day required it as he served and blessed others. This is the poem that came from those thoughts.

Gentz’s Clothes

Was it Shakespeare who talked about clothes in that line

That said the clothes make the man be they ever so fine?

I am not sure with this poet I can wholeheartedly agree

For Gentz’s  clothes are worn to reach out to those in need.

Work clothes soon dirty are donned to help someone move

And then t shirts put on to bake rolls that show them love.

His blue suit on Sundays is worn at church to preside

And usually stays on longer to give people a ride. 

He walks through the door and people know it is divine.

This love of his that is rare but in him not hard to find. 

When he walks calmly and purposefully through the door

That person knows in her heart, she is alone no more.

He so easily will  change his plans and his thoughts,

Quickly his clothes when someone is distraught. 

He will give this love of his to whomever might ask.

Having to change his shirt is not a huge task. 

As his pants quickly move  so does he with a nice flow

Lighting everything around him with a beautiful soft glow. 

No matter the garb, the face and heart remain the same

And the light that he brings with him ever will remain. 

So, no I can’t believe that clothes make the man

For he is the one that decides how to lend a hand.

He is willing, he is worthy and ever so kind.

Gentz with his service wardrobe I’m so grateful is mine. 

 

 October 20,2020

I wrote a few poems about the Pandemic and thought I would go ahead and share them in order.

The first one was written on Good Friday the day set apart by the President of our Church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints who invited all to join us in a 24 hour Fast that the Lord might "Hear Us".

A psalm for the World wide Day of Fasting April 10, 2020

Hear us O Lord!

Hear Thy people!

Incline thine ear to our cries…

Thy children suffer.

We implore thee O Lord!

Thou who hast power over the dead

Raise up a cure.

Raise up the elements 

To enfold  us in thy arms of  peace,

To surround this sick world with healing.

Hear us O Lord! 

Thou who sees the light

When all is dark.

Thou who called with a loud voice

Lazarus Come Forth!

Call again Lord!

Command the darkness to depart,

The tumultuous  waters to be still

And the storms to cease.

We have been filled with fear.

Help us to have faith!

Faith to walk on the stormy seas

Holding out our hands

To thee—to take them.

Take our disease ridden

Weary frightened hands Lord.

Enclose them in thine…

Thy precious hands

Where we are engraved on 

Thy palms.

O God, Hear us!

On this Good Friday when 

All seems lost!

Rise again dear Lord!

Rise up and Save us.

We know that 

With thy stripes we are healed! 

Hosanna! Hosanna!

The Whole World Cries out..

Save us Jesus!!

This poem was inspired by the Scripture in  1 John 1:5. I was feeling rather fearful and worried about the state of our nation with all of the divisiveness and rioting that was going on at the time. 

“This then is the message which we have heard of him and declare unto you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.” 

June 20, 2020

                                 GOD IS LIGHT

Whenever I feel darkness, when my heart is filled with fear

I must remember where that comes from and I don’t want to hear.

I want to give no heed to voices that circle around in my head

“You can’t do this, you won’t make it,” and soon I’m filled with dread. 

The future is bleak, economy is shot, and  the country is falling a part.

All this comes to me and within my soul soon I find a frightened heart.

In this scary place my mind is filled with confusion and negative thought.

How long must I stay here, the choice is mine…is this what I was taught?

Yes things are in an uproar and these times are certainly unsure

But wait, pause and remember there is something that does endure.

Something that brings light, purity and hope to the suffering soul.

Search for it, find it, for it is within, and I can once again feel whole.

For God is there in the stillness of my breath, always filled with light

For there is no darkness in Him and my thoughts  he can make bright.

Free to choose, to look with gratitude instead of fear and doubt

For the future can be clear and free from fear inside and out.

Oh, how someday soon I long to stand in that holy place

Where with my garments washed  clean I can  behold His loving face!

Restore my Soul, oh blessed Lord who watches from above

And knows my every thought, desire and my every move.

Bless my soul with thy light and help me please to know

That tribulations come to us in this life so far below.

They form us into the people Thou would have us become

Until we kneel before thee in our Heavenly Home. 

So, as the storms of confusion and rioting abound, 

I can be still and know that Thy voice is the only sound.

The only sound I need to hear, to hearken and to heed,

For all the rest are filled with fear and hate which I don’t need.

Keep my heart and mind filled with thy light and thy love

And never let me forget O Lord that thou art watching from above.  

Hope in the middle of Corona

A Saturday morning when I sat down to write my morning pages Aug. 15, 2020

The days on the calendar slide quickly by

One seems no different than the rest.

We wake, we sleep, we go to the store,

We continue to hope for the best.

Conflicts continue, people and the virus still rage

And our lives as we knew them are gone.  

We wake, we sleep, we visit friends from afar 

Hoping someday we can  leave our homes. 

Will the economy ever recover?

Will the vaccine ever come we ask?

We wake, we sleep and always we pray

Hopeful to be done soon with this mask .

Surely things like this have happened before..

The depression, the plague, the unrest.

As we wake, we sleep and we return to school

We hope our world will survive this test. 

 

 October 12, 2020

October Twelfth

                                                       (First Christmas Together)

October twelfth was a celebratory day in our family. It wasn’t because of 1492 and Columbus sailing the ocean blue even though that meant we got out of school that day. Rather it was because three young girls welcomed their little sister Rebecca Lynn “Becky” into the world with great excitement. How we loved and adored her! Our mother wrapped her in a yellow blanket and I can remember lying next to her on our parents’ big bed and delighting in her little gurgling baby sounds. She had the blondest hair and sweetest face and a disposition to match; no one had ever dare mistreat her when her sisters were around!! The only time we saw her cry was at her birthday when we would sing Happy Birthday to her!

Becky grew into a tall willowy beauty with beautiful strawberry blonde hair. She never dealt with weight issues like the rest of the family and didn’t even go through an awkward adolescent period. That could have been easy to hate or be jealous of, but Becky was always just the light of our lives and we simply loved her.

As she grew there was always a calm about her and assurance. She seemed to know exactly what she wanted and no one or thing could stand in her way. If she wanted to remodel a house, she did it. Cut wood with a chain saw. Build a log home in Minnesota. Start a health food business and a successful direct selling business. Canoe the Boundary Waters alone every year on her birthday. Cook a gourmet meal. All done. Her dream was to walk the El Camino de Santiago in Spain on her 60th birthday. I believe she would have been able to do that, but sadly she died seven months shy of that October 12th. 

Our Becky maintained her beauty, love of life and dignity all through the last year of her life. She had suffered some disappointment in her relationships, yet she never spoke ill of those people with whom she had shared a part of her life, no matter how painful.  She adored her children Brekke and Peter and they returned that adoration with their time and love and a closeness every mother would want to have with her children.  Her crowning joy was little Luci, her granddaughter, who she got to spend two years loving and adoring visiting in California and showering love and affection upon.

As those who loved her watched her quickly slip away, we knew she was going into that place of light and love where she would be surrounded by family members who would welcome and embrace her and she could be that beautiful, healthy radiant being again in all her glory. Yet, how those of us left behind miss her! Every Columbus Day I think of that little darling wrapped in a yellow blanket, that willowy beauty standing behind the counter of Grammas Pantry and of that radiant smile and welcoming hug I received every time I saw her.

Happy 66th Birthday our Becky! Happy Birthday our dearest sister. No more tears for you. May your lovely light continue  shining  down upon us as we think of you looking down at all of your loved ones wrapped in yellow beams rather than a blanket with that beautiful smile and that ever loving spirit. We love and miss you!

                                                (Last Christmas Together)

 October 7, 2020

A Child’s Prayer

(I wrote this in 2005 when my sisters and I were having a “fifties Retreat” at 

Julie’s house in Minnesota.)

Four golden haired girls were preparing to pray

To thank God for His help throughout the day.

Bowing their heads and bending their knees

They expressed their gratitude and blessed others please.

The oldest was Julie so full of much fun

She skipped from sunrise to sunset and still wasn’t done!

Her voice and laughter she loved to display:

“Bless me Father to stop and listen along the way.”

Karen came next and set a more serious tone

As she watched and observed all who lived in this home.

It seemed she was remembering a not too distance place.

“Bless me Father, to know I will again see your face.”

Then Jeri was born..they thought she would be a boy,

But instead a little girl who brought them much joy.

She had a good time and always wanted to play,

“Bless me Father to get more work into my day.”

Last came sweet Becky who was such a delight;

Her sisters loved and cherished her with all their might.

No one else had better try to hurt her at all.

“Bless me dear Father to get up when I fall.”

Now that they’re grown do they still kneel to pray

With childlike faith for God to bless each one’s day?

Where are the prayers now of these four little girls?

Sisters and mothers, their heart felt prayers are like pearls.

Like when they were children they ask for blessings from above

With knowledge their Father will bless those they love.

He promises to  guide them through their difficult days,

And they thank Him for the peace that comes when they pray.

A child’s sincere prayer will never go unheard.

Even when she is too small to utter a word.

Within God’s heart all her prayers will safely stay

Until she meets Him again in that Joyful Day. 

 

(Our little sister Becki died of cancer at the age of 59 in March 2014...I was holding her hand just like this when she passed through the veil to the other side....a very sacred moment)

Oct. 6, 2020

 I decided on a lark a few months ago to write this poem  as I was thinking about my husband after running across this picture from 1978, newly married when he was finishing college at Illinois College here in Jacksonville. I had just gotten a great job as a head resident at Jane Hall, MacMurray College here as well. Unfortunately, MacMurray college closed this spring and I will forever be grateful for this three fun years we spent here, getting to know some incredible students who we are still in touch with.

Evolution

Won’t you sit with me? I say

to my husband who is

constantly 

moving. 

Won’t you walk with me?

He says to me who 

loves to 

sit.

Yet, somewhere we meet,

we merge,

we accept.

And so we walk, we sit.

We talk, we laugh, we enter old age

with love. 

Evolving ever closer together

As the years slip by.