Dreams of a Little Girl

© Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved

I am a perpetual dreamer. As a little girl, I believed in the little stories I read, the songs I sang, and the few movies I saw. I could vanish for a whole day in the words of . . .

“Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
My, oh my, what a wonderful day.
Plenty of sunshine headin’ my way
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay!

“Mister Bluebird’s on my shoulder
It’s the truth, it’s actual!
Ev’rything is satisfactual!
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay,
Wonderful feeling, wonderful day, yes sir!”
~ by Ray Gilbert

and rematerialize with that bluebird on my shoulder. Every word etched its meaning into my spirit, and the sunshine did head my way. It’s the truth…it’s actual!

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Being a child was the grandest time of life. As little people we accepted things with simplicity and an anything goes attitude. If we could imagine it, then IT was real. Do you remember playing Cops and Robbers? Cowboys and Indians? (I must interject here that I was a true tomboy!) You could be Tonto or the Lone Ranger; you became Dick Tracy til you went to bed and woke up to a new identity. Or you became Silver and could run faster than any other horse. You even knew where to find the best sour grass in the whole world, that secret place out behind Grandpa’s barn.

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I think my favorite hero to play was Superman. There was this special field near my house that had a long narrow lay of the land, with a slight dip in the middle of it, perfect for lift-off. I’d start at one end of it and run for all it was worth til I reached the middle. There I would jump into the air, arms outstretched and nose to the clouds, believing with all my stubby legs that I really was IN THE AIR…only to set down a few seconds later on the dusty dry ground. But I kept trying and trying…and trying. Oh, what fun, acting as these imaginary people.

 

One song especially affected my young life:

Somewhere over the Rainbow
*composed by Harold Arlen and the lyrics by E.Y. Harburg.

When all the world is a hopeless jumble
And the raindrops tumble all around,
Heaven opens a magic lane
When all the clouds darken up the skyway,
There’s a rainbow highway to be found
Leading from your window pane
To a place behind the sun,
Just a step beyond the rain
Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow.
Why then, oh why can’t I?

I sang that song with my heart, thinking that if I truly believed, I could fly over that rainbow with those bluebirds. With childlike faith I DID fly over the rainbow. It launched me into an imagined escape from the very troubled world in which I actually lived, an escape I desperately needed.

I still dream…every time I read a book, a poem, watch a movie, attend a play, hear Handel’s Messiah at Christmas time, and more. Heaven does open, like the song trilled, to a place beyond the sun, just a step beyond the rain…to a whole new world that God calls heaven. The Bible states that a heavenly home waits for everyone that has drawn their life on the account of Jesus Christ. And it’s not a dream. It is reality. It’s signed, sealed and delivered…waiting for the nod of your head, the creaking open of the door to your heart, the throwing down of the ultimate freewill of one’s soul.

“Yes, Lord, I am yours.”

 

The Glowing

wetrose

copyright Jeanne E Webster.  All rights reserved

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Thank you for the memories,

The joys and wonders of life,

The blessing of divine glories…

What peace abundantly rife!

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You birthed me as a baby girl,

Swaddled up in my mother’s arms;

Tenderly kissed my golden curls

As I snuggled in her charms.

 ~

Thanks for all my family and friends,

Thanks for pretty flowers and weeds.

Sunshine and rain brought amends

As You sought to establish Your seeds.

~

Oh God, my sins no longer sting

They’re hung on the cross of Jesus.

He entered into my life to bring

A life so much more prestigious.

 ~

Your truth appeased my doubting heart

I was healed by Your living waters.

Eternal life You did truly impart

To my lost spirit and many others.

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I peered inside my very soul;

Faithfully, You are present there.

See that loving spirit glow…

A sweet heavenly flare!  Amen

Gold Dust?

Remember that old tune, The Sunny Side of the Street?

Grab your coat and get your hat
Leave your worries on the doorstep
Life can be so sweet 
On the sunny side of the street

Can’t you hear the pitter-pat
And that happy tune is your step
Life can be complete 
On the sunny side of the street

I used to walk in the shade with my blues on parade
But I’m not afraid…this rover’s crossed over

If I never had a cent
I’d be rich as Rockefeller
Gold dust at my feet
On the sunny side of the street

~Jimmy McHugh & Dorothy Fields

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sunny

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The “sunny side of the street” for a Christian is in the presence of the Lord.

“But the Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light, and thy God thy glory.”  Isa.  60:19

Shalom

 

 

Be All You Can Be

 

 ©Jeanne E Webster

Matt. 5:14-16 Ye are the light of the world.  A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid.  Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel basket but on a candlestick and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.  Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven.

 

Imagine a rose bud freshly appearing from its thorny stem, closed up tightly like a clenched fist, its beauty and perfume unrevealed.   Rising at dawn, the sun slowly warms the delicate petal tissues; they become pliant and supple. Fraction by tiny fraction the outer ring of petals fluff outwards, then another ring, until the bud is no longer closed and hard and firm.  The warmth has loosened up its rows of petals; they peer out at the world with stark brilliance. It has warmed to its fullest glory:  a stunning blossom.  The bud can’t present its scented splendor until it is fully opened, fully determined to display its designated purpose.  Only then can it release its fullest potential and become visible to the world. 

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Yielding to God is “like a flower at dawn, touched by the warmth of the sun, opening to the sunrays and giving to the world its beauty, its perfume—being for all to see what it was meant to be.”

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Let us be all we were meant to be—the Light of the world, glorifying our Father in heaven.  Amen.

Home Invasion

 

04:41 A.M.

©
  Jeanne E. Webster

04:41 A.M.

That’s when it came! Struggling to wrest the cobwebs from my mind, I sensed its presence, its intrusion. Stealthily, bit by bit, inch by inch, it had crept into my bedroom through the window. I was alone and powerless to delay its intent. Nothing on earth could have stopped it. I rose, tiptoeing over to its point of entry.

My sleepy eyes peered through the aperture of the bedroom window blinds, and there it was, relishing in its magnificent colorful display. A clear view of the horizon revealed a bluish-tinged sky painted with vivid orange-pink hues. As my mind slowly cleared, blue sky began to dominate as the brilliant red-orange ball imperceptibly became smaller and brighter as it rose radiantly in the sky. The golden orb slowly released its fiery, throbbing thrust of blinding light, bedazzling the land with colorful, buttery splashes.

A new day had dawned!

~shalom