–Jill Spargur

I always wanted a red balloon,
It only cost a dime,
But Ma said it was risky,
They broke so quickly,
And beside, she didn’t have time;
And even if she did, she didn’t
Think they were worth a dime.
We lived on a farm, and I only went
To one circus and fair,
And all the balloons I ever saw
Were there.
There were yellow ones and blue ones,
But the kind I liked the best
Were red, and I don’t see why
She couldn’t have stopped and said
That maybe I could have one–
But she didn’t–I suppose that now
You can buy them anywheres,
And that they still sell red ones
At circuses and fairs.
I got a little money saved;
I got a lot of time,
I got no one to tell me how to spend my dime;
Plenty of balloons–but somehow
There’s something died inside of me,
And I don’t want one—now.


Where did Time Go?

©Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved

Time in a Bottle
~Jim Croce

If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I’d like to do
Is to save every day ’til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I’d save every day like a treasure and then
Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do once you find them
I’ve looked around enough to know
That you’re the one I want to go through time with.



What is TIME? It’s a noun; it’s a verb. It’s an object; it’s usable.

You can’t do without it; it’s there whether you want it or not.

You can spend it; you can waste it. You can ignore it.

But it is there all the time.


What is TIME? It is abstract, immaterial; a concept.

A clock can keep it; it can run out; it stood still once.

It has an end; it can tell; it only knows.

But you can’t hold it in your hands

You can’t really buy more

You can belong to it

You can’t give it away

It ends when the clock runs out…

Tick tock, tick tock, they all fall down.


TIME was made for humankind by God.

How else could humanity measure life and works?

God created heaven and earth and all that was in them.

After the fall in the Garden of Eden, God imparted a concept

Upon humanity; it was called time. A time for hope, a time for love…

In other words, He clocked us. Perhaps to enable us to see reality?

Appreciate life more? Make better choices with the time we have?

He gave us a concept…we didn’t grasp the Garden of Eden.

We abused it and walked naked, without thought or care.

We chose to go our own way, envision our own thoughts,

Believe our own creed, live as our own gods.

So he put a governor upon us, to ever remind us of our beginning.


TIME is a concept to show us the way back to God.

God is eternal. We are eternal also but sin split us in two.

That’s when TIME began, for us to work our way back home.

Physical death is our end of TIME; we rejoin eternity with God.

One in the Father, by the Father, and with the Father.

At His designated moment, time will be no more.

All creation awaits that moment. It moans and groans as we do.

We’ve wandered far too long as self-willed creatures.

It’s TIME to go home!


[Wandering thoughts about TIME. These are thoughts only!]

Front Yard Recon Tour

© Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved

Outside it looks like a milky-white afternoon, the white pine branches waving to me like green puppets on invisible strings, up and down…up and down…loosely dangling, at times bursting forth with a rolling simmer, ridding its branches of old pine cones and such. All the while the black pines stand staunchly like arthritic sentries, facing the early spring wind gusts boldly, almost stoically. I can almost hear them murmur, “Get it over with, wind, we’re ready for spring.”

I ventured outside, bundled up in sweats, hat, gloves and a resigned attitude. No way am I staying out here very long. I’m only here to get a bit of fresh air. Heading for the graveled driveway, I passed a majestic white pine being roughed about by the forceful winds. I look up to where its soft green head bobs to and fro in the chalky background. A rose-breasted mourning dove takes wing, aiming for a bare redbud tree nearby. Performing a high wire act, it awkwardly lights on a branch and takes a moment or two to settle in. “Well,” I said to the dove, “that’s what you get for leaving the shelter of that nice snuggly pine.”

Reaching the end of the driveway, I peered down into the ditch, half-filled with run-off from the road and nearby fields. You would never believe that crayfish live down in there. It looks so gravelly and stark, a scrawny weed of two for cover. But the grey chimneys offer real evidence that something is in residence. Perhaps they are ghost crayfish; “ponies” for little people to ride; visual echoes of the earth’s screams as the coal mining industry rips apart its turf. Who knows? But there they are, deep down, alive, viable, surfacing only in the shadows of time, doing what they must do in order to survive. Maybe they belong to the same locals as the moles and voles. Maybe they’re just shy. I ponder if perhaps the birds know who these chimney diggers are, but they’re not talking.

Whoops! I’ve just stepped into a soggy mole hill, up to my ankles and sinking down as I quickly flip forward towards solid ground. The front yard has been severely abused this winter. I don’t mind sharing the yard with moles if they would only be more mindful of those who come after them. Eat all the grubs you want, but put the dirt back where you found it. Oh, yes. They say they are copycatting the coal miners. Oh, well, what can I say to divert that?

Well, lookee here! The lilacs are budding out! I knew I came out here for some reason. There will be sweet smells on the south side of the house this spring. Also the yellow daffodils have announced their presence amongst the dried brown leaves. I remain amazed how a dried bulb can be buried in 4-5 inches of soil for six months and suddenly erupt with such glorious splendor. Which leads me to the greatest miracle of all…how a dead body can erupt into life eternal someday…when it is time.

Have a nice day. I’m heading for the house for a cup of hot chocolate.

Listen: An Unborn Baby Speaks

© Jeanne E Webster – all rights reserved

1 day:
22 days:
Thub dub…thub dub…thub dub…thub dub…
Gee, Lord! You were right…this is fun! It’s goin’ thumpidy thump. I feel alive!
28 days:
Wow! My back is gettin’ stronger, and my liver, kidneys and ‘testines are growin’ too.
How much longer will it be, Lord?
35 days:
Papa, you’re so creative. Look at my eyes, legs, and hands! They’re almost shaped. Whoopee! I’ll be playin’ in no time!
42 days:
Hmmm…Papa, I think I can think now, and my mowf and lips are right here! See? I’m even gettin’ fingertails!
49 days:
Oh, Papa…look at me twitch my nose and toes! I’ve even got eyelids now. Watch me kick and swim in this watery pouch!
56 days:
Papa, thank you for all these things called organs! And, gee, my bones are turnin’ from that cart’lage stuff into harder stuff!
Wow! I just got fingerprinted!
Sssh…I think I hear people talkin’. They won’t hurt me, will they? Is it dangerous out there?
63 days:
Oh Papa, my toofers are coming in, and these fingertails will come in handy for scritchin’ the itchies.
Lookee…my head goes this way and that way. Am I cool or what?!
Oops…hiccup…hiccup…yep, I can do that now too!
77 days:
I can breeve a little too, Papa.
Oops, watch out…I went potty!
84 days:
I’m hangin’ on by my thummies! Whee! All systems are go! Am I ready yet, Papa? Is everyting ok?
(first trimester is abortion’s prime-time)
91 days:
Blahhhhh! Did you hear that noise I made? Ha Ha!
I’m learning to use my lungs by breevin’ fluid.
This thummie comes in handy. It kind of ends up in my mowf lots of times.
Was that a “No,” Papa?
98 days:
I’m feelin’ stronger, Papa. Is my heart really pumpin’ quarts and quarts of sacred fluid ev’ryday?
105 days:
Papa, I can taste now too. I can’t wait to eat that peanut butter sanwinch you said us kids would like!
4th month:
My bones are growin’ fast and fillin’ up with that marrow stuff. And look…I’m almost 8 inches long!
17 weeks:
Wow, I’m dweamin’! All right! This IS fun!
21-22 weeks:
What did you say, Papa? If there’s trouble, I’m developed enough now to be saved? Saved from what? Are there bad things out there, Papa?
20th week:
I hear my mommie, Papa!
(earliest stage that partial birth abortions are performed)
She can’t hear me yet. I’m not afraid now, Papa. Mommie won’t let anyfing bad happen to me. It’s safe here, nice and warm and comfy.
5-6 months:
I’ll be needin’ some air to breeve pretty soon. This fluid is yucky!
Watch me grab that umbilical cord and spin around. Whee!
I’d better rest up; I worked up a sweat.
I’m really growin’! I’m almost a foot long and weigh over a pound.
7-9 months:
My eyetoofers are cuttin’ through already.
Watch these peepers work! I‘m almost all grow’d up. I can sense that Mommie is getting’ grumbly.
I’ve dropped down into a slide. This is scary! Papa, where are you?

Life and Death Speak

© Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved


The waters overpower us
With ruinous waves so high;
We cling tightly to each other
As lifeless bodies float by.

“Mama! Mama! Help me!”
My little one cries out;
My strength is waning fast
Numbing pain releasing doubt.

Up and down, back and forth
The waves shake us like dolls;
We spit out water to take in air
As the tide our spirit mauls.

My eyes are stuck wide open
My fingers glued to her coat;
She no longer screams “Mama!”
Utter silence swathes her throat.

Prayers of anguish gurgle forth
Amidst the roaring sea spray;
“Oh, my God!” “Help me, Lord!”
Become epithets spoken today.

Menial things matter not anymore
Squabbles are quickly laid aside;
Many to-do’s or forgotten sins
Are swigs for the ravenous tide.

There’s lots of dying, Dear one,
Enough to sate death’s thirst;
Life is clinging to another breath
Till you think you’ll surely burst.

Is this the true “Amen” corner
When all of life is predated?
When the Almighty speaks His word
And reclaims what He’s created?

So be it… from dawn to setting sun;
Life and death speak with one voice:
So be it…Lord Jesus, please come!

[Written on the fourth day after a massive earthquake and ensuing tsunami devastated Japan’s people.]

The Holocaust Happened!


© Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved and observed.


Knuckles of uniformed SS troops
Voices hushed, hidden behind doors,
Feet of frantic ones shuffling, slowly
Spirits of bravery waning, yet still
Train cars swallowing up entire families
Gassed bodies at death camps ghastly
Nazi soldiers crazed, hatefully defiant,
Dead body after dead body after dead body


Clocking Holocaust time at . . .

Maly Trostenets

Holocaust Day, Jan. 27th: the day of remembrance.

Give a Hand

© Jeanne E Webster – all rights reserved

“You can’t live a perfect day without doing something for someone who will never be able to repay you.” ~John Wooden

Think of it…how many perfect days have you had in your life? Be careful now, slowly return to days of yore and peek into your past. Carefully work your way towards today and then give it a total. Did you get anywhere near the amount you thought you would? Me neither. But what a motto!

Starting today, rearrange your daily routine and work in one blessing for someone who can’t repay you. Try it as often as possible. Every day might be a far reach; begin with the thought. As thought gives vision to action, let the good deeds roll. It doesn’t have to be a big hairy deal. Folks in need are struggling with life, and most anything would help them, even a smile.

Remembering the thought will be my first challenge. When that finally takes root in my brain, I’ll really be into the fun part, “What will I do today?” The research will take time, and the planning. But that’s part of the dynamic here. I want to work on this for a month and see how many perfect day deeds I come up with. Then start on another month, and then maybe jump to a year.

After that the ritual should become so ingrained in my heart that it will be as natural as breathing in and breathing out. And you know what? My focus won’t be counting perfect days anymore. I’ll have the satisfaction of a joyful spirit, inner peace, and a greater awareness of the needs of others.
Enjoy your perfect day . . . and many more!