DREAMING, JUST DREAMING

 





By the time we reach the 26th of February, we're more than half way through winter.  Despite the fact that we are tired of the high snow banks and creeping around the corners in our cars to see; snow removal dilemnas, and having "cabin fever", our minds are welcoming each day with the hope of the end and the beginning.

 

 

March 1 is close - will it come in like a Lion?  or will it come in like a Lamb?  There is always a wild weather pattern that is blamed on St. Patrick, but whatever happens in March, it is tolerated, because April is next and that is spring!  It is such an anxious feeling we have this time of year - we've made it this far - we can hang on just 32 more days or so.....but until then, I am

 

Dreaming, just dreaming...



 

But especially during our Cabin Fever days, there are still moments we need an escape from our cares and troubles, as we don't always feel hopeful.  My dear friend Ruth has a way of putting the thoughts of our hearts into words. 

 

A TIME FOR PRAYER

 

Help me Lord to find a time for prayer,

Where only you and I are there.

A time of peace, a time of light,

Even if it be the middle of the night.

 

A time so rich with your Grace,

It will become our special place.

To talk, to share, to let you know how much I care.

 

To give you thanks for all you do,

To guide me all my life through.

- Ruth J. Boyce - copyright 2002

 

 

Ruth J. Boyce

My Lord What a Morning - an original poem

 

 

 

I went to the Shelter

To volunteer my time,

Then to the soup kitchen

Where there was quite a line.

 

There are so many people

With such great needs,

It's really incredible

We have so many to feed.

 

Poor and downtrodden,

Simple and plain

The needy and wandering

With or without shame.

 

Some dirty, some young

Just the shirt on his back

Made me really wonder

What did these people lack?

 

Some, like sweet Mary,

Young and unwed,

How did this happen?

Was all that she said.

 

A poor lowly maiden

Without neighbor or friend

Could have only desired

This new life to end.

 

But suddenly a voice

From the clouds up above

Gave Mary a deep faith

For a child she would love.

 

And Joseph, her chosen,

Was sick with despair

Would rather have left her

Without even a care.

 

But Joseph too heard

A voice from above,

For Mary his betrothed

And a child he would love

 

The reason God chose her

We'd soon be aware

Is that God came unto us

His love we should share.

 

We go out into the world.

To seek our dear Lord.

We look every where

To find his reward.

 

As we look in the stores

And at gatherings this season,

We often forget that

Jesus Christ is the reason.

 

The words, "unto us,"

Are the clue to this search

That Jesus is not only

Found in a church.

 

Look for the persecuted,

Those in sorrow or despised.

Christ will appear

Right before your eyes!

 

For the baby Christ child

Has been born to us all

And to each faithful heart

He issues a call -

 

"Be ready my servants,

For you know not when

The hour will come,

When I will return again."

 

 -----December, 2001  SB

Christmas Child by Janice Lewis Clark

Christmas is for children, and my childhood's long behind.
I have responsibilities that weigh upon my mind.
That lovely snow's a hazard; all the shopping is a chore;
Too much to do: there isn't time to let my spirit soar.

And yet, the Christmas carols strike a chord within my heart.
The scents of pine and candles make a flood of memories start.
All year I do my duty, seldom falter or complain,
But, oh, when Christmas comes, I yearn to be a child again.

I want to see the magic through the glitter and the glare.
I want to hear the angels singing in the frosty air.
I want to hear the story for the first time yet again,
How Jesus came from heaven to bring peace on earth to men.

I want to feel the wonder and the promise of His birth;
I want to know the simple joy He brought for all the earth.
Tomorrow I'll resume my place, a grown-up to the core,
But please, Lord, now it's Christmas, let me be a child once more.

                                                  Written December 1999
                                                  By Janice Lewis Clark

Ms. Clark puts the sights, sounds, scents and stories up front where they belong. This poem is a great reminder. 

My childhood Christmases were spent with both sets of grandparents - maternal on Christmas Eve, and paternal on Christmas Day or soon after.   How fortunate we were to have both sets of grandparents in our home town. We had my mother's parents to ourselves, as in our elementary age years, we were the only grandchildren who lived here.  All the rest of our cousins, aunts and uncles on that side of the family got to experience Gram and Grandpa coming to visit and staying over night.

Each year we would memorize our "piece" for the Sunday School Christmas program, which once was held on Christmas many years in the past.  My mother enjoys retelling