Just Mow

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Pastor Anthony Baker at The Recovering Legalist, (and I so totally love that for a blog name!), has his moments of frustration and is not ashamed to let others know that he does not, in fact, walk on water.  On the other hand, he is likewise not ashamed to introduce you to Someone Who does….walk on water, that is.

So here is one of his productive solutions to the stresses of the clergy, or of life for that matter!

 Just Mow

I have so much to write

But it was too long a night.

The stress of it all, all the phone calls

I slept till I saw the light.

Yeah, I “saw the light”

I don’t have to write!

This is my blog, I’m not on the clock

There’s nowhere a paycheck to write.

So, it’s a beautiful day

The weather is great

I’ll crank the John Deere, put buds in my ear

And just mow all my stresses away.

So for a good dose of “so-what’s-your-problem-anyway!?!” theology, check out The Recovering Legalist, and enjoy the journey with Pastor Baker.

Poem in my pocket

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Clay Watkins, I can relate to you!  Teaching science everyday to middle schoolers—yeah, that’s my world, too, only I don’t teach, I’m their nurse.  You’re a treasure, and what you do is extremely important, more than you know.   So if you’re reading this today (which is a Thursday, meaning we’re both at work….) my hat’s off to you and all you and your colleagues do!

The name of Clay’s blogsite is: https://makingthedayscount.org  and that should tell you the quality of the content!  (oh, yeah, and my disclaimer….)

POEM IN MY POCKET

Earlier today, I discovered to my dismay,
I had missed an important day.
I looked down into my screen
to discover what I had missed
National Poem in Your Pocket Day.

I didn’t have a poem in my pocket,
It – my pocket that is – was rather empty,
But I smiled, and moved forward,
One foot after the other,
And, made it count, anyway.

LESSON FROM THE ROSE

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Once again, my friend, Oneta Hayes of Sweet Aroma, put out a beaute!  Lessons of quiet and profound simplicity come from her pen (keyboard??), and rather than any uninspired commentary on my part, I give you…

LESSON FROM THE ROSE

by Oneta Hayes

 

A rose grew by the garden path,

A child took a sniff, ran away with a laugh.

A short time later, a man walked by,

Smelled the rose and made a pleasant sigh.

 

Now, I’ll ask a question, if I may.

If the rose were sniffed by a hundred noses,

Would the rose lose its fragrance by the end of the day?

 

So, what is my lesson from the rose?

Jesus’ love suffers no loss,

No matter the number who partake at the cross.

The Treehouse Book (and haiku)

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I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again–I adore treehouses.  I want one…period.  When Jesus promised “I go to prepare a place for you”, I’m hoping mine’s way, way up in the branches with the birds.  So when my daughter and family sent me a book of treehouses, it only reminds and rekindles a longtime love.

Now, having said that, I found a poem embedded in said gift.  But first, allow me to set the stage with a few quotes from, what else?  The Treehouse Book*:

“This writer’s place of work is deep in seclusion.  Imagine a trip by canoe as the first part of the journey, through the woods to a stream; find the z-shaped plank bridge, then across a small island, to another wider stream crossed by a narrow, curving, single-planked bridge, and into the woods again to find the treehouse…Stewart says that his treehouse is snug at zero degrees or even 10 below.  It is a marvel to be gently swayed by the north wind as it rushes through his supporting hemlocks.”

This is writer Stewart Tarry’s office, a far-cry from a city cubicle.

Sigh.

Here are five different haiku by Stewart Tarry–

sorry, no phone—

out here the chickadees sing

from thin branches

 

halfway up

four thick hemlocks—

moon in the windows

 

sunrise dances

across my ceiling—

beavers swimming home

 

new shadow

across the floor—

first quarter moon

 

quiet enough

to hear a cat’s tongue

behind the woodstove

As always, click HERE for my non-poetical disclaimer, and thanks for visiting!

*Quoted from The Treehouse Book by Peter and Judy Nelson with David Larkin, Universe Publishing and David Larkin ©2000 New York

 

SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE

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Here’s one I fell in love with, tucked away in a small used book I picked up somewhere.  The author sounds like a pretty cool guy, not only because of the hopeful tenor of the poem, but that he was the assistant of one of my heroines, the one and only Florence Nightingale!  (You can’t be all bad if you worked for Flo.)  Here’s my INFO.

 

SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE

by Arthur Hugh Clough (1819-1861)

 

Say not the struggle naught availeth,

    The labour and the wounds are vain

The enemy faints not, nor faileth,

    And as things have been they remain.

 

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;

    It may be, in yon smoke conceal’d,

Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers,

    And, but for you, possess the field.

 

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,

    Seem here no painful inch to gain,

Far back, through creeks and inlets making,

    Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

 

And not by eastern windows only,

    When daylight comes, comes in the light;

In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly!

    But westward, look, the land is bright!

 

A Little Treasury of British Poetry, Ed. by Oscar Williams. ©1951 Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York

The House of Christmas

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This brilliant poem by the one and only G.K. Chesterton comes to us from the Tolle Lege site here : https://tollelege.wordpress.com/  Yes, yes, I know this is yet another Christmas-y poem in March, but hey!  Keep it rollin’!   The blogger informs us that Tolle Lege means “take up and read”, but since I don’t speak Latin, I’ll just take his word for it….

So, without further ado, here is my disclaimer, but more importantly, here is–

The House of Christmas (by G. K. Chesterton)

There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable Continue reading “The House of Christmas”

Mitchell School

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Mitchell School was written by one of my bloggish friends, Oneta Hayes.  Oneta is 80+years young, a retired school teacher, and quite an inspiration. Here’s a little bio on this wonderful lady:

FIVE FACTS ABOUT ME. (That is, Oneta…)

  1.  I was born in a dugout in the southeastern plains of Colorado.
  2.  I graduated high school at the top of the class.   Hold the applause -there were only 24 in my class so my odds were pretty good!
  3. My present husband, Sammy, is my only husband.  We have been married 62 years.  (Great opportunities for divorce – 135 times.  Hold it, I’m joking – a little!)
  4. I always loved grammar but was scared and very insecure about composition  writing.  The first real writing began when I was about fifty years old.  I wrote an article called “My Case for Sunday School.”  It was printed in two church denomination magazines.  It was so foreign to my concept of my own ability, I believe it was inspired by God in order to move me to new ministry opportunities.
  5. I’m a member of Toastmasters, Int.  My love for writing and love for speaking go together very well.

I encourage you to visit her site: http://onetahayes.com/ for a refreshing look at life in general.  And, of course, my “disclaimer” is HERE.  ENJOY!

MITCHELL SCHOOL

We talked of community, not neighborhood;
We talked of counties, and towns
We met in schools and courthouse lawns
Wore overalls and dresses, not evening gowns.

The building housed the public school,
A place of learning and social gathering –
There was church, spelling bees, the voting booth
A center of knowledge – perhaps, just a smattering.

From eight years old to eleven or twelve
Mitchell School, was my place to go
It was not true that we walked in rain
By then, folks were modern, you know.

Owning their farms, livestock, and cars,
Their taxes kept that school house firm
Paid the teachers and bought the books
All gung-ho and ready for a new term.

Then the children grew up and moved
Adults bought new Chevys and Fords
The walls of Mitchell School began to fall
“Save the School” was a slogan – no action, just words.

To folks like me, ‘tis a pleasant memory, but
With no one left to maintain it with pride
A snippet was written to serve as a eulogy
And Mitchell School’s walls just fell down and died.

© Oneta Hayes, used with permission   Visit her at: http://onetahayes.com/

(PS, just in case anyone is keeping track, this post counts for my BLOGGING BLAST this week!!)