Nestled in the Woods

My Floridian friend suggests
that I should honor his requests
to write a verse or two about the snow.
I disdain to meet his plea
although he may vicariously
enjoy a snowy day with all its glow.

After two full months of cold
that shoveling out gets rather old
and I’ve considered move to Mexico.
Now its piled both high and deep,
and I have tossed it in a heap
as far as futile efforts I can throw.

Sure, it’s pretty, I’ll admit,
but I would like it now to quit
so once more I can travel to and fro.
I am grateful for each day…
look forward to the month of May
when “snowbirds” from the south will north-ward blow.

Today we mourn the dead.
Unlike the one we lay to rest,
Our grief lives on beyond this test;
We hold the memories to our breast
Each future step we tread.

We grieve in different ways …
With tears or silence or regret;
With normal functions all upset;
With thoughts of what we should forget;
Not knowing what to say.

We who are left behind
Must grapple with mortality.
The fallen leave a legacy
That all will face eternity …
Nor can death be declined.

If we can understand
That Purpose guides experience,
And when it seems as little sense
That life is cut at great expense
There is a Higher Hand.

No death is met in vain,
For there are never accidents
In God’s all-perfect Providence …
He makes no selfish ordinance,
But rather timeless gain.

We say our last “adieu”,
Yet we who meet to pay respect
Would face a certain grim prospect
That by the Sovereign Architect
Next meet for me or you.

Dark…gloomy…what a night!
We settled down to watch the sheep,
and knew that there would be no sleep,
expecting night be long and deep,
but blackness became bright.

Hark! Light now fills the sky!
An angel bathed in light appears.
We fall upon our faces. Fears
that as the heavenly choir nears
we’ll perish where we lie.

Dark? Gloomy? Night is gone!
The angel says we need no dread:
The Christ is born in manger bed.
“Go see the infant…good news spread,”
the angel choir swelled.

Why infant, not a king
to bring fair rule upon the earth?
And why with such a humble birth?
Could not He bask in worlds of worth,
brought on an angel’s wing?

Why? Why not a feed box?
By humble birth He comes, a man,
indentifying with our clan…
(It was the Father’s perfect plan)
low, with sheep and ox.

 Therefore God also has highly exalted Him and given Him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those in heaven, and of those on earth, and of those under the earth, and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father…Philippians 2: 5-11

Where are you?
Did you think you could hide?
There is no place
where you could creep…
no valley deep enough,
nor even beyond some ocean wide
where you could flee
the reach of my long arm.

Where are you?
It is not you who hides
your guilty face.
I cannot look at you;
I cannot know you.
Never could some
fig leaf grow
that could conceal
you and your bride.
You cannot hide from me,
and I can do you harm.

Where are you?
You’ve walked in willful strides
beyond the sphere
of my love.
You’re lost…not hidden.
You crouch in fear
because you chose…
decided to gain control
of your destiny,
and to reject
what you were bidden…
chose to believe
the Tempter’s charms.

Where are you?
You have surely died.
Your heart is pierced
with rank deceit,
where lust will grow,
where greed will cause
you to be fierce,
and pride will flow
like rivers in a flood.
The only way to pause
the swelling tide
is shedding blood.
You have sent up
your death alarm!

I know where you are,
but I will provide
the remedy to extricate
you from your deadly fate.
I will become a man
and live a perfect life,
that had you so done,
this Eden could be won
forever for you
and your wife.
and then, I as a man,
will be the sacrifice…
My wrath appeased…
forever satisfied,
and I, once more,
can welcome you
into my arms.

Tonight is Halloween…
the day before
All Hallows Day,
when we give honor
to saints,
both here and gone.
We’re wary of
the ghosts and ghouls,
and dress up in disguise
to frighten them away.
We bribe the false-faced gnomes
with sweets
in hopes that with the treats
they will not open up
their bags of tricks
and vandalize our homes.
What if we change the scene
and share,
along with junk,
a heart of love…
a time of joy…
a hope for peace?
And with these gifts
debunk
the notion
that life is what we get.
The better and the wise
is that life is far above
some silly toy
or candied sweets,
and with the change
we’ll hallow our own soul.

September 4, 1959 was a beautiful and bright, if hot, day. It was our wedding day. What a trip that fifty years has been!
I have learned so much in those five decades, but I think the lesson I learned the best is that it is not “all about me.” I couldn’t really learn about love until I addressed that issue. When it’s all about me, any diversion from my desire, my feelings, or my control creates a barrier between us. Throw in some legalistic religion on top of that and you have a recipe for conflict.
When it’s all about the one another, we begin to see that our life is a connection. Marriage should be the greatest example of that connection. We live for our mate, and in return, we receive the benefit of love.  We have children together to express that love and the connection grows. This is the way it is supposed to work, but the minute “all about me” intrudes, love is compromised.
I hope that I have learned this lesson, and my goal is to perfect it over the next however many years God gives us together.

FIFTY YEAR SONNET

It’s been a fascinating fifty years
Of marriage, both “in sickness and in health.”
We planned for challenges and new frontiers,
And hoped for great success and maybe wealth.
Of course there would be trials marked by tears,
And sometimes conflicts cause by prideful self.
On some occasions undeservéd fears
That one would leave the other on the shelf.
But now we’ve set aside our separate spheres
While yet retaining differences we held,
And to our great surprise it now appears
Success for us has been unparalleled.

‘Twas neither pleasure nor prosperity
But love and trust has sealed the guarantee.

I Corinthians 10: 13…No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to us all. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.

The end of the string,
and the concert’s not done;
but more string is essential
to complete the potential…
the symphony once begun.
Should I choose the same
or make a different choice?
The sameness is melodic;
a difference is harmonic.
Which sings to me the best voice?
The point…to connect,
and the choice is my own.
The Amen is not in sight,
nor should I take wings in flight
until He calls from His throne.
Meanwhile, we play the tune
with those of like kind,
and even when alone
it’s never monotone,
but textured with ties that bind.
God’s love keeps us not
from strings that can break,
but He’s the orchestrator
and none can e’er be greater.
He gives no more than we can take.

“Our Daily Bread?”

My garden has put a new spin
On the gift of “our daily bread.”
Fresh beans and tomatoes and squash
Are the foods that keep us well fed.

The problem with squash is too much.
I cook it, preserve it, and share.
The more I take, the more I get;
There’s more than enough I can spare.

I’ve come up with new recipes
To make daily squash a nice treat,
Because harvest soon will be done
And “bread” will be taters and meat.  

SQUASH PICKLES

(Modified Zylphia Lee recipe)

Slice following thin enough to see through:

·         2 lbs. summer squash (any variety)

·         2 small onions

·         1 small sweet red pepper

Cover with water containing

·         ¼ cup salt

Let stand for 2 hours

Meanwhile, set aside for later:

·         2 cups vinegar

·         2 cups sugar or 1 ½ cups Splenda™

·         1 teaspoon celery seed

·         1 teaspoon turmeric

·         2 teaspoons mustard seed

After 2 hours drain vegetables and bring vinegar solution to a boil and pour over vegetables; let stand another 2 hours; bring to boil and pack in hot sterile jars.

 Quick Sautéed Squash

Variety of summer squash sliced thin; season with onion powder, Italian seasoning, salt and pepper to taste; place in frying pan with 1 teaspoon margarine or butter/ cup sliced squash; cook on high until it begins to brown; reduce heat and cover; simmer until squash is soft; sprinkle parmesan cheese over top and serve.

 Baked Squash Medallions

·         Any variety of summer squash

·         Buttermilk

·         Seasoned breading (for a hot spicy taste use Zatarain’s™ chicken breading)

·         Colby-jack cheese, cut in little squares

Preheat oven to 375 Fahrenheit; slice any variety of summer squash into ⅛to ¼ inch slices; dip in buttermilk; shake off excess buttermilk; roll in seasoned breading; arrange on greased cookie sheet; bake until halfway soft; turn each slice and return to oven to bake until soft; top with cheese and return to oven until cheese melts.

Today, while everyone else is talking about freedom, liberty, and independence, I am thinking about the freedom in “critter land”…that of the wild animals and birds.  Living in the remote back country of North Carolina, I have the privilege to eavesdrop on their world, and I see what it means to be free.  Freedom doesn’t mean we can do as we please, but we do as nature mandates for us.  It isn’t all about how we can get, but how we can receive what God has provided for us.  At Calvary, God provided the ultimate gift of freedom…freedom from His wrath in the sacrifice of His Son, Jesus. 

EARLY MORNING EAVESDROP

The sun has barely kissed the mountain tops,
And colors yet remain a muted hint
 of summer’s splash.
It’s then I see the wary eye and lively hops
Of Mother Rabbit; speckled thrush; a glint
 of chipmunk’s dash
  beneath the leaves to nether habitat;
A gentle whirr of wings…he hardly stops
To sip the nectar from a bud of mint
 and in a flash
He’s gone to find a sweeter draught of sops…
The humming bird in acrobatic sprint
 back to his cache
  beyond the reach of Prince, the family cat.

This brief encounter in the early morn…
An eavesdrop on an alien critter land
 of diligence…
Reminds me not my duties ever scorn,
And to be grateful for those things at hand…
 a world immense
  and filled with bounty far beyond my dreams.
It is not commerce, but creation’s norm
Gives satisfaction to my soul’s demand…
 No false pretense
Or roads to riches or some task perform…
These are but castles to be built on sand…
 No consequence.
But rather count my blessing, not my schemes.

Not fear, but faith,
And with the faith, relinquish works of pride
And wisdom and our wits.
Fear is a wraith
That mocks God’s mercy that He brings beside
The hurt and never quits.

Grasp the conflict?
And try to turn it downside on its head?
Where God’s voice can’t be heard?
That effort’s vain,
And then will break apart the fragile thread.
It’s futile and absurd!

Don’t hold to stuff
Or conflicts that we nevermore can win,
Because the victory’s won,
And it’s enough.
The battle’s His.  To fight against Him, sin.
He sees the deed as done.