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!?

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!

Looking for Me?

 

Jeanne E Webster-All Rights Reserved

Welcome to my house. It’s getting old and shabby, I know. It’s not a big house, only five feet and two inches. The roof is a medium brown and grey tweed, blending well with the olive tinted exterior. What really pops are the two deep-blue windows which reflect the distinctive characteristics of the tenant…ME!

Come on in and let’s get acquainted.

Howdy! It‘s nice to meet you. By the way, I just love your house. Really cool roof color. Don’t mind my house; it needs a new coat of paint. But I won’t be needing it much longer.

Did you know we are made of three separate parts? Yep, we have a body, mind and spirit. We’ve already compared and sized up the bodily component. Voila, ready or not, here we are! Our houses have a way of standing out, don’t they?

It’ll be harder for you to see my inner person, my mind and spirit, mainly because they are intangible. So sit down for a spell and listen up; you just might learn a thing or two about me. Maybe I’ll learn more about myself too.

A mind is a strange thing. Mysterious and eerie, like a jet plane flying so high in the sky, one cannot see it, only hear it. Sometimes it’s occluded by clouds. We’ll never figure out all the dynamics of our minds, because they are quite intricate organs. I strive daily to know my inner self. Even the Bible advises us to “know thyself”. Easier said than done, right?

My mind is a tool that helps me survive, to understand the world around me. I have learned responsibility and a moral sense of right and wrong. I have free will rights to anything I want to do, but along with this free will comes a conscience, an entity I can’t see or hold, yet it is there as certainly as my physical aspects.

I’ve heard the still small voice of my Creator that bids me love others as He loves me, forgive others as He forgives my sins, and to tell the “good news” to the world. My mind knows His voice and my body obeys His directions.

My spirit is that essence within me that searches the recessed corners of many rooms in my house, making sure that all is well. It’s that “finger to finger” touch Michelangelo portrayed in his fresco of Adam reaching out for God. I find it a vital exercise for my physical and mental health to reach up and touch God’s hand every day.

Hopefully you have gotten to know me better, and I look forward to peeking inside you one day.

Let’s end with an exercise that involves all three aspects of the inner person…prayer. Pray always, earnestly and fervently.

“Take the time to reach up for God; He’s reaching down for you. “
~Marijohn Wilkin
Shalom.

A Rainy Fling

© Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved
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A little drop of rain, quite a dainty thing,

Can be a harbinger of a grand stormy fling.

Itty dribs of rain, combined a million times,

Slush themselves into a cloud-bursting chime.

Tiny raindrops tap, a pitty-patter prance,

Tinkling out a soft-shoe clicky-clacky dance.

Ploppy rain drops clomp, a splatty-slitty smash,

Thunking like men in a five hundred yard dash.

Rain is thirsted after like dry-on-dusty dirt

Showering the earth in teeny tiny squirts.

Eager eyes anticipate the end of the day

When that glorious rainbow films its display.

Hallelujah!