Scutterings in the Night

© Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved

Remember when we were toddlers and the carefree daylight abandoned us to that ugly black darkness called night? Our bedtime drama began with a hug and kiss and recitation of our prayers.  A bonnie “Sleep well, see you in the morning,” echoed through the rustling of covers, and the light switch clicked off.

Then it was time!  The hour of darkness swooped and thrashed upon our innocent spirits.  Panic screeched a fiery course through our veins. Those menacing, creepy shadows scuttered along the walls, hid in the closets, and stirred ever so slightly underneath the bed. Meanness dominated those dark hours and horrified us. We were sore afraid.

Morning came and past horrors dissolved into the light of day. Levity reigned supreme once again.  What terror lurks in the day light that men should be afraid?

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.” ― Plato

John relates to us the teaching of our Lord Jesus:

John 12:46-48:  Jesus cried and said…”I am come a light into the world, that whosoever believeth on me should not abide in darkness. And if any man hear my words, and believe not, I judge him not: for I came not to judge the world, but to save the world. He that rejecteth me, and receiveth not my words, hath one that judgeth him: the word that I have spoken, the same shall judge him in the last day.”

Do not fear the One Who offers eternal life. Come to the Lord while it is yet day.

Shalom

Dad, Mentor and Friend

Dad, Mentor and Best Friend
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To God be the glory for my father’s love;
I celebrate Father’s Day with this in mind.
I offer all honor and praise to You above
For the rich treasures in my dad that I find.
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First and foremost I see his deep Love for You
That You placed within his spirit a long time ago.
His faithful Obedience follows this love so true
Reflecting the fruit of Your Word here below.
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His Reverence for life is so dear to his heart
For You have so blessed him with Your reality.
His endless Devotion to You plays a major part
In his constant practices of impartiality.
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It’s impossible to put into words what I truly feel
Towards my dad, my mentor, that You did send.
So I leave this with You, Lord, as at Your feet I kneel,
Thanking You for this precious dad. . . my best friend!
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© 1998 Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved and observed
Written for Dad, Virgil S. Webster
Father’s Day, June 21, 1998
(Dad went home to be with the Lord, 2008)

Summer Dawdlings

© Jeanne E Webster. All Rights Reserved.

“Summertime…and the livin’ is easy. Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high.”

I’ve always liked that song, mainly for taking me back to memorable  summer vacations spent at my grandparent’s home in Massachusetts. Those lazy, hazy days of summer were the happiest times of my childhood.

Small town life in the mid-1940s was kid safe; one could play outside unsupervised from sunup to sundown with no problems. We’d stuff a peanut butter sandwich in our pocket after breakfast, and off we’d scamper on our all-day carefree adventures.

Our youthful bantam legs struggled as they carried us up that steep knoll to the top of Walnut Hill, then braked as down, down, down we coasted to the placid waters of Lake Mattawa.

Dawdling around the lake edges for a while, we’d skim stones across the water, search for baby fish, and wade into the warm clear waters to extract pretty rocks or other treasures not too far out into the lake.

After resting from our arduous one mile trek, we’d wander through the adjacent pine trees and head for Uncle Brad’s house. to play with our cousins.  We had an unwritten privilege of fishing rights to his pond, and after we had dug up worms and crawlers, we’d grab some of his many fishing poles and scamper down to the stagnant, bubble-gurgling pond. We were delighted to snaggle luminous bluegills and sunfish, and catfish and brilliant yellow pike were always in bountiful supply.

Tiring from catching such “huge” fish, we’d retreat to Aunt Winnie’s back porch and eat our sandwiches and partake of her home-made lemonade especially set out for our disposal.

It was our habit to linger a while after our repast and visit the hen houses, barnyard and outbuildings of their chicken farm. What merriment was had while playing in the granary, jumping on top of the loose corn and smelling the aromas of earth’s harvest offerings!

Next we’d ramble on south a couple of miles towards Aunt Judy’s house and spend the rest of the day interacting with her eleven kids. We’d play hide-and-seek, cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, and with adult supervision, we could play croquet. We had no store-bought toys; we merely used our imaginations, which in all reality, was pure delight… pretty much.

Once one of my cousins dared me to pick some poison ivy and rub it on my arms and legs. So I double-dared him to do it too. Well…the next day he had poison ivy all over his body, and I had nary a blister. To this day I’m not allergic to the ivy!

Aunt Judy filled our tummies with her family’s supper fixings before we headed back to Gramp and Gram’s home. If the sun was still halfway up the western sky, we’d stop off at the churchyard and wander out back to the cemetery to pick the delicious wild strawberries there. They were so tiny but, oh, so succulent!

Summertime…heaven-sent days for earth-bound children, quickly spent and forever gone. Oh, to be a kid again!?

Memorial Day Tribute

May we forever honor those who lived and died to keep our country free.

WOMEN'S WINDOW

flag1

© 2014 Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved and observed

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As I raised our flag this Memorial day,
That grand red, white and blue,
I thought of all those who had died
For our country, so free and true.
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Their precious blood, sweat and nerve
Permeate each golden grain of sand
And inhabit every leaf and grass:
Walk softly on this sacred land.
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The wind still resonates their cries
Do you hear them calling out?
From sea to shining seas they sound
Over every hill and dale they shout:
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“Oh, say can you see
By the dawn’s early light,
The glorious red, white and blue?
It’s still there! It’s within sight!”
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We’ll hold dear your sacred trust
Endowed to us and our followers too;
Your sacrifices were not in vain!
Our hearts reiterate with tribute to you!

Photo: flickr

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Hoary Scritches

 

© Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved
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A poem-a-day in the month of April?
Is a tad bit silly; goes better in May.
But an order here I will fulfill
About what or who I just can’t say.
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The reader will have to wait in line
As the poet scritches the hoary head
Crossing the Ts and the words align
Wafting at play the slatey threads.
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I whoof off those stringy cobwebs
Sit up straight and take a breath
Thoughts pop in, then out they ebb
Some alive, others scrubbed in death.
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Cheerio! I say to anyone present
Read these lines and in between
We shall have daily times spent
A’ scribbling in this blogging scene.

The Seasons and I

© Jeanne E Webster All rights reserved

 

Gentle rains sprinkled their drops
Upon your seeds of infancy;
You burst forth in innocent rapture
Richly adorned with velvet greens.

Warm rays of sunshine soothed your bosom;
You sparkled with bright colorful displays.
Mature and strong were your gestures,
Fulfilling your designated plan.

Rustling in with cool, dry breezes
Autumn interrupted your attempt at glory,
Fading away your majestic beauty,
Leaving you stooped, wrinkled and grey.

Abruptly entered cold, harsh winter,
Drawing to a close the role you played,
Blanketing you in pure, white finery

For
Services
Rendered…
Such are the seasons and I.

The Holocaust Happened!

© Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved and observed.
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Knuckles of uniformed SS troops
Knocking

Voices hushed, hidden behind doors,
Talking

Feet of frantic ones shuffling, slowly
Walking

Spirits of bravery waning, yet still
Balking

Train cars swallowing up entire families
Shocking

Gassed bodies at death camps ghastly
Gawking

Nazi soldiers crazed, hatefully defiant,
Mocking

Dead body after dead body after dead body
Clocking

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Holocaust time at . . .
Auschwitz-Birkenau
Belzec
Bergen-Belsen
Bogdanovka
Buchenwald
Chelmno
Dachau
Gross-Rosen
Herzogenbusch
Janowska
Jasenovac
Kaiserwald
Majdanek
Maly Trostenets
Mauthausen-Gusen
Neuengamme
Ravensbrück
Sachsenhausen
Sajmište
Salaspils
Sobibór
Stutthof
Theresienstadt
Triblinka
Uckermark
Warsaw

Holocaust Day: the day of remembrance.

Never forget!