A Poem Called Boredom

Something, something for me to do,
I cannot think, my mind is blank,
I'm doomed unless my boredom leaves,
I'll ask not mom, not say to her,
I'm bored. For then, my head,
with chores, she'll cleave!

I wait, I wait for dear dear friends,
If they come tomorrow my love to lend.
That's hour, hours! So long away!
Give me patience. Please, Lord, I pray.

Update on Not Posting

We have not had a computer for a while. A computer virus closed us down. Good news? The computer guy saved our stuff! So, I'll try to post tomorrow.

Mandy

My Birthday

Today is May 22 and May 22 is my Birthday. Do I feel lucky? Not really. I woke up at the same time as usual: between five and Six O’clock. I ate the same thing, Chex cereal. I’ll probably do the same thing as I do every Sunday but that’s not the point.

Today is the day I remember another birthday. I can’t remember the date or the reason. I know I was four years old. I can remember that we were down near Georgia, visiting some friends of Mom’s. I remember a tiny room, a small bed (although it’s rather fuzzy so I could be wrong.) But what I remember clearly is asking Mom to help me ask God to save me. I don’t remember the reason. I only remember the time because I was getting ready for bed. All I get is a few glimpses of a scene that I want to remember is full color. Yet, what came after made up for that.

I will never be remembered as one of those miraculous stories. I’m not going to be one of those people that can remember a huge change. I won’t be the one to show others it’s doable even at twenty or fifty. But I got something very few others got. I got a life with God from almost the first moment I can remember. I got to know He loved me more than anything through one of the few unbroken homes. I got to hear and understand my whole life. I got to have the privilege of always being able to call upon Jesus through everything and knowing He was always going to be there.

I got the privilege to be happy, loved, cared for, and, at four, I was given eternal life. And I will be remembered as God’s child when I get to the pearly gates.

I hope you will too.

Mandy

Believing Not in Myself

I gave up believing in myself when I picked up a pad of paper and could draw nothing even though I was supposed to be an artist. I gave up believing in myself when I tried to write a character and it fell apart. I gave up believing in me at four as I realized I was a sinner and I could do nothing without God.

Someone might ask, “What kind of god tells a four year old that she is a sinner and can do nothing without him?”

If we were having this conversation for real I might smile (assuming I had the courage to say this at all) and reply, “A truthful one. Someone, that for once, will never lie. So many times a truthful answer at first is much less painful than for one to find out later. For them to find out they are going to spend eternity separated from their Lord and burning in a lake of fire. Wouldn’t you, too, have preferred the truth?”

God’s Wisdom
By Miranda E.

What have I to say today?
Not much at all.
I have quite a lot, in fact,
But what good, would do, my call?
Dare I say what I long to do?
Dare I even pray?
It’s such a silly fantasy and, yet, who knew,
What power, in dreamers, lay?
Patience, they say, patience,
I’ll try hard to learn,
For wisdom comes from patience,
And wisdom makes good passions burn.
Without God, and his wisdom, passions fall,
God gives wisdom in love,
Does He not then love the passions,
That are showed with wisdom from above?
I know not the answer,
Should I even care?
It’s in God’s nail pierced hands,
And they, my dream, are worthy to bear.

Mandy

Pooh, Keys and the Mail

And there we were again, walking to the post office, enjoying the day and discussing….Winnie the Pooh. I am, in point of fact, a self proclaimed Winnie the Pooh fan. If you are not, you have a huge problem. Pooh is adorable, simple, funny and just plain enjoyable. Compared to beans, Pooh is even more awesome. Are you now saying, who is this person who writes books at thirteen, can be completely serious in her faith, and loves Winnie the Pooh? Why are you looking at me? How should I know? I’m just what God felt like making on May 22.

Where was I? Oh yes. Pooh. Now we might have seemed like easy targets for muggers (had there been any in Nemo, which there aren’t) but we don’t go unarmed. What do we bring? M16s? No. Pistols? No. A giant ring full of keys? Yes! Yes? Yes. Melissa carries a big (and I mean big as in an old fashioned jail ring sort) ring of keys stuck in a plastic bag. Megan carries a very big stick (big as in tall, not fat.) I, on the other hand, bring a hat. A hat? Yes, a hat. A safari type hat that is more like a helmet (I like the defensive side). We bring all this in case of a wild dog or cat or just to get the mail.

So, we talk about numerous Winnie the Pooh shows that we remembered and mentioned the animation. We talked over new plans for my book. We took our time and came home. It was much more pleasant than the last time (when it was pouring rain). Since I had gotten three letters, I retired to write three replies.

Thermometers

Ever seen one of those movies where the detective finds a clue that no one else would have ever seen? Like the five containers of salt. Who had five containers of salt, they ask and it solves everything. Well, I’ll tell you who has five containers of salt on their shelf, us. Salt goes on sale, we buy enough for the year. It’s brilliant!

What was I going to say? Don’t worry, it will come to me.… Nope, not coming. Alright, new subject!

How many thermometers do you have in your house and yard? One? Two? We have a total of seven. I’m not lying. Honest! Not one of these can agree. It’s 60 out on one, 50 on another. A third says it’s 80 but it’s in the sun so it no longer counts. On the fourth it’s different every time you look. How do we know what the temperature is? We don’t. We just pick whichever suits us at that moment in time.

“Mom, it’s 80 out can we play in the sprinkler?”

“We can’t pick dandelions for syrup, it’s only fifty.” (Yes, we make dandelion syrup. It tastes like honey but is much runnier, It’s really sweet and great on apples.)

“We can wear shorts, it’s 60 out.” Blah, blah, blah… It’s great!

Why is it we have seven thermometers? Because we do and that’s the best answer you’ll get because we honestly don’t know.

This winter we had problems heating the house. Were we low on wood? No. Did we forget to stoke the fire? Okay, sometimes but that’s not the main reason. "Why then?" you demand. I’m getting there. Patience.

We are all experts at jumping up from our seats. Half way through a TV show Mom goes, “Windows!” We jump up and throw them open. Rain or shine, zero below or sixty above, they get opened. Is this a strange game? No. "What is it then?" you yell. I’m not telling you. So be patient.

Everyone moves away from the windows. Well, everyone but me. I remain rooted to “my spot” (which is right in front of a window). Is this punishment? Did I do something wrong? No, don’t be ridiculous! I’m just stubborn and love my special corner seat.

So, why do the thermometers get a shock and we have problems heating the house? Why do we do this strange procedure? Because Mom gets hot flashes. Hot flashes? You ask. Yes. She randomly starts burning and we throw wide the windows. It drops to fifty, we shut them, Mom is perfect, we’re all freezing. Perfectly normal.



P.S. Mom says I forgot two.

Treasures

Somethings we buy to treasure. Somethings we get and then learn to love. Often, the ones that start out ordinary turn out to be extraordinary. It’s those small things that become precious. It’s the large ones that are soon forgotten. It’s a friendship started by a few kind words that will last forever. It is those things we take for granted that we miss. It’s those who encourage you, that help you over the finish line.

It’s God, who gave you all those things and people, that will one day call you home.

Mandy