© Jeanne E Webster. All Rights Reserved.



Dangling in black space
Like white-faced mimes
Hung bits and pieces
Of memorable effects
Shredded and shabby
Hoary, wispy specks glowed
On an invisible clothesline.

Drawing closer I recognized…

A glass chip from an antique mirror,
A frayed scrap from a favorite shirt,
A scruffy heel from my first new shoes,
A tattered ear from my treasured teddy bear,
A jagged corner from my grandma’s photo,
Broken silver links that cradled my crucifix,
A fragment of a cherished birthday card,
A tassel from my son’s high school cap,
A dog-eared page ripped from my old Bible.

“What is this? What does it mean?”

Vagabond bits and pieces of my life
Most precious to me a long time ago
How mystifying to envision them again
Prayed instantly for God’s illumination.

Softly He whispered: “Behold… touch… absorb.”

These were tools
He’d furnished for me
To comprehend love
Feel it deep in the heart
Love and life have value
Beyond all things
Touchable today—
Unearthly tomorrow.
How delicately
A shred or piece evokes
An event that
Seemed so essential
Now is merely
Lingering nostalgia.

Yes, Lord, memories are surfacing…

Grandpa bought the mirror for me
Traded in a pricey grandfather clock;
Grandma surprised me on my birthday
Presenting that longed for plaid shirt;
Dad hunted all over town for my shoes
With a great big hug, his special love;
Teddy bear all petted out was my sister’s
She died young and I miss her sorely;
Grandma’s photo was the last vestige
Of the only real live-angel on earth;
Mom saved up her ironing earnings
Bought me that cross dangling on a chain;
The birthday card gifted in adolescence
My first boyfriend, becoming my husband;
My son so proudly graced me with his tassel
Graduating and making his way in the world.

My heart trembles at the dog-eared page
Torn loose from the Word, my study book
That old Bible was so marked up
Prayers, notes, spiritual growth and such
Broken heart tear-dotted pages
Along with drops of precious “blood”
While sipping from the cup
After eating the “bread.”

Oh Lord, how precious
Are these memories
The love-wrapped folks
Who were my family
So many friends
Dot my highway too
All bits and pieces
You loaned for my purpose
To soften my heart
And feel the pulse
My spirit must possess
To become like You.

I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!



“These things have I spoken to you that my joy might remain in you and that your joy might be full. This is my commandment, that you love one another, as I have loved you.” John 15:11-12
(This dream was real, merely enlarged upon to share with you.)


train trestle orange ma 001 (3)


have you ever sat by the railroad track

and watched the emptys cuming back?

lumbering along with a groan and a whine,

smoke strung out in a long gray line

belched from the panting injun’s stack –

just emptys cuming back.


i have – and to me the emptys seem

like dreams i sometimes dream –

of a girl – or munney – or maybe fame –

my dreams have all returned the same,

swinging along the homebound track –

just emptys cuming back.

 ~ Angelo de Ponciano

(A pondering old poem I wanted to share . . .)

A Cat in a Hat


“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

 ©Jeanne E Webster

The age-old question has been bandied about lately and got me to wondering.  I chewed on this for a while and came up with a few possibilities.

1.  A preacher

2.  Professional writer of inspirational topics for women

3.  A chef

4.  An astronomer

The thought process sifted through the diversified hats above and came out like so:

A preacher—not likely; have little public speaking experience, little counseling exposure, not sufficient learning in preacher hood.   Probably a definite no.



A professional writer of topics to inspire women—strong possibility here.  I am older but can still think and write, have had much experience writing and exposure to some dynamics of becoming a successful writer, love to write, inner need to minister to women, comfortable with presenting the gospel to women of all ages.  This hat is pretty close to what I would want to wear when I grow up.




A chef—I love to cook!  I like to feel food, eat food, look at food, experiment with food, food is cool!  I would make a good chef if I were younger.  No longer have the stamina for schooling and training in the fine art of classical cooking.  Most likely a no. 



An astronomer—I would have loved to enter college and study for the wonder-filled topic of astronomy.  Space intrigues me, draws me like a magnet, spins my thinking cap around and around, always points me toward home to heaven, but is too little too late for grasping the dynamics of this detailed topic.  A definite no but only because I am too old and college is too expensive.

So sifting through the above choices, it appears being a professional writer is what I want to be when I grow up.  Sounds good.  Maybe I’ll get there in a few years.

How about you?  When you grow up, what do you want to be?  I’d really like to know.  Really.  So give it some thought and share with us here or write me solo on my email.  Shalom.

Dreams, Anyone?

©Jeanne E Webster


If there were dreams to sell, what would you buy?

From Dream Pedlary, a poem by Thomas Beddoes

After I read this poem, I gave the premise much thought.  What would I buy if dreams were a commodity?  I’ve written down a few thoughts that came quickly, yet if pondered thoroughly, this is a hard exercise.  You mention one thing when another appears to erase its validity.  Even the ones I posed could be ruled out if greater thought was exercised. 

One of my dreams:

A dream where mankind had not progressed to the knowledge available in our age. 

  • Children were able to be children longer.
  • The elderly were respected and cherished.
  • Innocence was precious.
  • Greed was a crime.
  • Work was an honorable profession.
  • Love was priceless.

Give it a try and see what you come up with.  It is an excellent brain exercise, as one thought leads to another.  You might even peer into your inner sanctum and have a look at the real you!  Just remember, thoughts are free. 

Have fun!

Just a Little Bit


©Jeanne E Webster


“We can only see a little of the ocean,

Just a few miles distant from the rocky shore;

But out there—far beyond our eye’s horizon,

There’s more—immeasurably more.


We can only see a little of God’s loving—

A few rich treasures from His mighty store;

But out there—far beyond our eye’s horizon

There’s more—immeasurably more.”

…been thinking about this today and wanted to share it with you.  I like this little poem—have no idea who wrote it, much less who thought these words.  As human beings, we are so limited in abilities to fathom the greater attributes of God’s creation.  As the little poem points out, we can only see a few miles down the shore, or a tiny speck of the ocean—but there’s so much more.

I had trouble sleeping last night and tried to zoom in on these thoughts.  My mind came up with perhaps a few inches farther down the shoreline but not much more.  I wondered why I couldn’t reach further, as I struggled with deep thoughts and strains.  I finally concluded that the span of understanding and perception is nigh impossible to the human mind.  It is beyond our comprehension, and I don’t need to waste my time dwelling on it. 

Aha!  I think King David already told me that, in Psalm 131:1 “Lord, my heart is not proud nor my eyes conceited, neither do I concern myself in great matters or in things too profound for me.”

Thank you, Father, for your answered prayer last night.  Perhaps we could again take up the thought when viewed from a different perspective…heaven!










Psalm 126: 1-6 “When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing.

Then said they among the nations, ‘the Lord has done great things for them.’  The Lord has done great things for us, that’s why we are glad.

Turn again our captivity, O Lord, as the streams in the south. They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. He that goes forth and weeps, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.”


Have you ever been so captivated by something to the extent you appear to be dreaming? Sure, you have. Whatever captures our attention is a captor. Captors can be physical things and events as well as mental things. Or both at the same time.


In the scripture above, the Israelites had been released from captivity, and the joy they experienced made them feel they were dreaming. They began to laugh and sing after many years of physical captivity by their enemy, but also experienced a release from the mental captivity of despondency and depression. I imagine they even danced a bit. We could even say they became captivated by their joy and newfound freedom.


In the year 1991, I was captivated by a deep worry and dread of losing my oldest son in the Persian Gulf War. He was serving our country there in an army missile battalion, and my worst fears became captors of my inner peace and joy. I prayed this psalm one night, inscribed it in my Bible, and immediately felt released from that god-awful fear. I sang hymns and thanked the Lord for answering my prayers. Such was the assurance of my son’s safety that my spirit was jubilant, and I wept tears of joy and gratefulness.  


How sweet it is when the Lord allows us to sense His “great things” happening in our lives. For a time we are bent down and weeping, then suddenly we sing to our heart’s delight. That precious seed, prayer, returned with rejoicing, bringing my sheaves of joy,  still intact. Thank you, Father, for your loving kindness. As in a dream, on May 5, 1991, my son stepped off an airplane onto American soil once again, whole and unharmed.   Amen.