As we head up to my one of my all time favorite places I will re-post the psalm I wrote a few years ago. We typically rent a cabin in September and I consider it my “new year” since it is a relaxing, renewing and “reviewing” time for me…looking back on the past year and looking forward to the coming year. Click here to read my post on Anticipation from September 2016.
Lake Superior Psalm
The Lord is my Shepherd
I shall thank him.
He allows me to be on the shores of Lake Superior
And hear the calming waves.
He restores my soul.
He guides me on trails of the Superior National Forest
And leads me along the rocky shores.
Even when the waves are rough – even when the lake is calm,
In the bedroom closet upstairs, tucked away on the top shelf, is a box.
It’s an old Gateway computer box with the Holstein cow pattern, and it’s only about 14” X 18” and 6” deep.
It doesn’t take up much space, this one little box, but, if you open it up, out pops one great, big surprise! Thirty-three years of calendars, thirty-three years of life, thirty-three years of recorded history from one small family. It contains years of appointments, church activities, school and sports activities, vacation schedules, birthdays, anniversaries, deaths, dinners, all kinds of celebrations etc….
It reminds me of a Jack-In-The-Box. Each year it springs open, I add another calendar, force the lid closed as it bursts with memories, and I put it away for safe keeping.
This one little box holds one big treasure.
And it’s amazing how little space this box takes, upstairs, tucked away on the top shelf of the bedroom closet.
I wrote this poem in 2012 and it reigns true today although I did have to put the Gateway box into a larger box to accommodate more calendars. I added another calendar this week.
I tried to capture my feelings about this concept of time while going through a difficult period. It’s hard to explain. A situation may lead you to step of out of your “daily life” and it seems you are in a time warp yet the world around you keeps on going – until you stabilize and can gently step back into life (changed) with just a few ever noticing you were “standing still” in the first place. But those few are very precious. All along God has been there with you, and He is Faithful.
My precious friends are in a time of waiting, at the bedside of their firstborn son. My heartfelt prayers continue and my thoughts turn to them over and over during the day as I continue on. But these are Holy moments for them. They are in the arms of the Almighty God. They love him, He loves them, and so do I.
“The Eternal God is your our refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” Deuteronomy 33:27
My dad was a carpenter and built our house in a “brand new neighborhood” in Northeast Minneapolis in 1953, the year I was born. Everyone in the neighborhood was new to the area and many lifelong friendships were formed. My mother and Diane’s mother (my recycle birthday card friend) was one of them. I wrote this poem when Darlene died in 2013. My mom died in 2009.
Sunday’s sermon was about saints in the Bible that have gone before us, then we had an opportunity to light a candle for the saints and loved ones that have gone before us in our own lives. Pastor Abe reminded us that the saints were not perfect people and that the Bible is full of stories of imperfect people being used by God. He reminded us that God is faithful, he doesn’t give up, and he is in the business of redemption.
I lite a candle for both my parents and a very special aunt. Here is a poem I wrote about my mother shortly after she died in 2009. My father died in 1974 when I was 20 years old. I am saddened for the missed opportunity of getting to know him as an adult. I have not written a poem for my dad…maybe someday I will. He was a kind man.
Vibrant colors on the trees: red, yellow, orange, lime green, with the deep blue October sky as the backdrop. Leaves gently fall, creating a mosaic carpet to walk upon.
Creation calling me to experience its beauty.
Once again I am grateful for eyes to see, ears to hear, and the sense of smell and touch and taste.
The earth is preparing to rest, but will be renewed again. I trust the same is true for me.
October 2004
2 Corinthians 4:16 That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. (NLT)
I went to the annual used book sale in our town last night and found some wonderful treasures to bring home and read, and some books to give away since I found some of my favorite books like new!
One book I bought was on seeing light in the world and that reminded me of something I wrote a few years ago on a 4th of July evening as I walked home after watching our town’s fireworks display.
Tonight’s LIGHT
Twilight
Moonlight
Starlight
Fireworks!
Lightening Bugs
Street lights
Car lights
Garage lights
Porch lights
Indoor lights through the windows
Celestial light
and on the walk back home….fire light! (in a fire pit!)
There was a beautiful full moon the other night and whenever I see one it always leaves me breathless. I was reminded of a poem my son wrote for me several years ago. He wrote it after we witnessed a beautiful moon rise over a field of wheat moving with the wind that reminded us of the sea, or Lake Superior.
MOONWALK
Where the sky touches the water,
the field of wheat meets God’s beautiful creation.
Isn’t it neat?
The water displays its glistening haze,
The golden wheat stands tall, with no fear at all.
These are hand-written recipe cards from my mother…the booklet holds all the hand-written recipes I have from her.
My mom made a delicious roast. Every time she made one it turned out well – every time! But when I went to make a roast it never turned out as good as hers. I wrote down her directions but they never seemed to work. It was a lot like this poem I’m posting below:
My Mother Gives Me Her Recipeby Marge Piercy
Take some flour. Oh, I don’t know,
like two-three cups, and you cut
in the butter. Now some women
they make it with shortening,
but I say butter, even though
that means you had to have fish, see?
You cut up some apples. Not those
stupid sweet ones. Apples for the cake,
they have to have some bite, you know?
A little sour in the sweet, like love.
You slice them into little moons.
No, no! Like half or crescent
moons. You aren’t listening.
You mix sugar and cinnamon and cloves,
some women use allspice, till it’s dark
and you stir in the apples. You coat
every little moon. Did I say you add
milk? Oh, just till it feels right.
Use your hands. Milk in the cake part!
Then you pat it into a pan, I like
round ones, but who cares?
I forgot to say you add baking powder.
Did I forget a little lemon on the apples?
Then you just bake it. Well, till it’s done
of course. Did I remember you place
the apples in rows? You can make
a pattern, like a weave. It’s pretty
that way. I like things pretty.
It’s just a simple cake.
Any fool can make it
except your aunt. I
gave her the recipe
but she never
got it right.
My mom passed away a few years ago so we have not had a delicious roast since – seriously – but I do have some of her recipes cards that include measured ingredients and directions, and they are grease stained with ruffled corners, but they are written with her own handwriting. I keep them in a special booklet and there are some of her recipes I make that do turn out well.
I make her Ginger Snaps. They are my favorite! I ask people “How can a freshly baked, out of the oven ginger snap possible be bad for you?”
As we head up to my one of my all time favorite places I will re-post the psalm I wrote a few years ago. We typically rent a cabin in September and I consider it my “new year” since it is a relaxing, renewing and “reviewing” time for me…looking back on the past year and looking forward to the coming year. 
