THE AGONY OF DE FEET!

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I remember it well. I was nearing twenty. The twist was the dance of the day.  A new band from across the pond was making its way to the US.  I fell somewhere between Elvis and the Beatles and never lowered myself to swooning over either of them.  I was much too sophisticated.  I was one of the “good girls” of the sixties.

During those years my husband and I would clear the floor when the music began to play.  We’d polka, fox trot, two step, twist and all the modern dances, until the cows came home.  To top it off, I did all those dances while wearing stilettos.  By the time the evening was over, my little tootsies were screaming for relief.

Now when I think back to those late nights and the blisters, soreness and distortion of my feet for a number of hours, I can’t help imagine what damage I was doing to those ten toed extensions.

After three children, I still opted for stylish shoes.  They weren’t those high, high heels anymore.  As time passed, the heels disappeared, but memories of those stilettos lingered on.  It took a lot of courage to put on those shoes, simply because you were submitting yourself to a balancing act of sorts.  Your arches were reaching heights unknown to mankind.  The unnatural positioning of your dainty little toes was almost like being placed on a rack of torture.

Today, I have slowly submitted to more sensible shoes.  I have one pair which cost well over a hundred dollars.  I will be wearing them for a long time.  They aren’t like the orthopedic styles grandma used to wear. They’re actually pretty cute with slacks and with the addition of arch supports, I’m walking better and I’m comfortable.

Yesterday I opted for style and wore shoes that went well with my outfit.  By the end of our time at church, doing the duties for fellowship, altar guild and cleaning up, my toes were screaming.  My step had slowed to a crawl and I was pretty much wiped out for the rest of the day.

So what’s my point with all this useless information?  Well, like my posted image says, strong women wear their pain like stilletos, I think there’s truly a lesson in those words.  No matter how life is kicking us or throwing bricks at us, we can still carry our beauty.  It may not be what it was when we were twenty, but women have a way of hiding their pain under the guise of a mask, their beauty or a pair of shoes.

Think about it.  When you’re young, you’re in the process of conquering mountains. You are at your prime and with each problem you encounter the heels get higher.  Sometimes you need to get the spikes out to cut through the clutter.  As time goes by, the weight of those problems pushes deeper into the ground.  The shoes now flatten out along with the burden.  You go through ups and downs through out your life, but continue to hang onto the spring in your step until the very end.  Your footwear will change along with your challenges but walking with God will always keep your feet pointed towards heaven.  When you walk in Jesus sandals, you’re going to experience pain.  Being a servant isn’t easy, but it is a blessing that will last for eternity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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DIETING WOES

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In my lifetime I must have tried at least a couple hundred different kinds of diets.  I started to notice that I wasn’t the cute little Shirley Temple look alike I thought I was when I turned nine or ten.  I’ve been fighting the battle of the bulge ever since.

I’ve tried starving myself – counting calories – Weight Watchers – Jenny Craig and others like her – Atkins – Low carb/high fat – vegetable soup diet – Keto and so many more.  They all had one thing in common.  I’d lose a few pounds right away and gain it all back with an additional five within a month.

My stretch marks were getting stretch marks.  I was entering high school large enough to play center on the football team.  Unfortunately, girls in football were not a thing at that time.  When I started dating my high school sweetheart and lifetime partner, I outweighed him by fifty pounds.  Come to think of it I still do.

Years passed and the yo-yo dieting continued.  I was one of those eaters that ate because she liked food.  Depression – mood swings – hormones – metabolism had nothing to do with it.  That is until I got pregnant and added another forty pounds to my already chubby self.

Now I’m at a point in life when I know that losing several pounds would take some of the extra load from what I carry on my aging legs.  However, I was told by the doctor last week that my knees are really in good shape for my age.  Walking is an option, but there are all the respiratory issues.  See – I have an excuse for everything.

So as life continues to put up with me, I’ve decided to forget about dieting and start enjoying life.  Excuse me, while I go slice another piece of cake.

 

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IS IT GOOD TO GET ANGRY?

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From a very early age, I was taught that we shouldn’t succumb to anger.  Not only was it a negative way to behave, but it had serious consequences.  As my life progresses, I keep hearing that voice in the back of my head telling me not to get angry – to keep my temper under control – don’t over react.  Yesterday I got angry.

I had no particular reason for being angry.  It was a culmination of negatives that had been building up for some time.  It was the state of our world – the fake and real news (who knows what is and isn’t anymore?) – getting rid of this stupid cough that keeps me up at night – my feelings of inadequacy for not being able to contribute to the daily stuff that continues to require attention.  I was lonely for my children and grandchildren.  I was angry that I couldn’t get in my garden.  I was crabby because my first time driving my stick shift car put extra strain on my sprained knee.  The voice returned.  “Chill – don’t over react – count to ten!”  The more I heard this voice in my head, the angrier I became.

Why shouldn’t I get angry?  Why have I spent the past 77 years being the calm one?  Don’t my feelings matter?  Guilt again crept deep into my brain.  I seem to have these conscience battles from time to time – like when Sylvester the cat had the little devil and little angel sitting on each shoulder trying to run his life for him.  “Don’t blow up,” says the angel while the devil roars, “Do it!  Go for the gusto.  Blow up!”

Finally my brain was becoming a little teapot ready to explode, so I went to the one person I knew would understand – my one and only sibling.  My sister and I didn’t like each other very much when we were children.  Our teen years were spent in constant competition.  Once we both left the nest that changed and we’ve been very close ever since.

She lives in Nashville, TN and I live in Minneapolis, MN.  Many miles separate us, but there is a connection that transcends time and space.  I bore my soul in the form of a text message.  She responded with an email.  She’s much more tech savvy than I am.  We rarely talk  on the phone because of my hearing loss. Since the phone doesn’t have subtitles or closed captioning we communicate electronically.

She gave me some very good advice.  She said sometimes we just have to let off steam, especially when we feel overwhelmed.  We can’t be expected to hold all that garbage in our head and not have a negative reaction.  Anger can relieve some of the tension that’s trying to escape.

I then remembered how my grandmother would go out to the woods when things got tough.  I don’t know what she did out there, but whatever it was, it seemed to soothe the savage beast.  I imagined she would go there to scream at something or to blame someone or to simply cry.  We need to release the steam that’s causing our anger from time to time.

This world is in a state of craziness.  Anger and hatred seem to be working at a fever pitch and people aren’t very happy anymore.  Maybe we all need to go to the woods and have a good holler.

 

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WALLY’S FRIDAY FRYDADDY FUNNY

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JULIE’S FRIDAY FUNNY

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MORNING RAPTURE

 

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ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©

Ask any outdoor painter when it’s the best time to create art and they will undoubtedly say – in the morning or at twilight.  During these brief moments, God has taken every color out of His paintbox to capture the perfection of light and shadows.  Across the towering peaks, beside each tree branch or within a mountain lake, there is a rainbow – a brilliance – a masterpiece, just waiting to be transferred to a canvas.  The camouflaged wildlife take on a shimmering, golden glow. Even the best artist can’t match God’s splendor, but they can try.

 

 

 

 

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THROW BACK THURSDAY

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This is a re-run which has been reblogged once before.  I feel it has merit and since it’s throw back Thursday, I’m running it again.  Originally written on August 15, 2015.

There’s been division of races, ethnicity, social class, political views and even in our religious beliefs throughout history.  Looking back before our founding, the Native American was looked upon as a savage by the early explorers.  These foreigners may have said they were there to convert them to Christianity, but more likely their greed overtook them and they plundered and ravaged this noble race until they had nothing.

The slave trade was well underway in the 1400s and we all know the horrors of the abuse and humiliation this race suffered. Slavery wasn’t new.  It had been around during Biblical times as well.  They helped build a strong industrial nation for their white counterparts and fought alongside them in war after war to preserve the rights of our nation’s constitution.

After Pearl Harbor, nearly 120,000 Japanese Americans were sent to internment camps simply because of their race and heritage.  Nearly 60% were already United States citizens who had built thriving businesses .

These are all ugly reminders of the disgrace faced by every American.  The sins of the fathers seem to continue well beyond the third and fourth generations.  Wouldn’t it be great if we could just wash away all that prejudice and hate? Our consciences could finally feel free from blame – even though we were not personally responsible for the injustice.  Or would they?  Those times in history keep rearing their ugly heads.  Today the selling of children as sex slaves is the slavery of the day.

God doesn’t look at individuals in this way.  Each life that He creates is important – whether they are black, red, yellow, white – He made us and knew what we would be long before we were a glint in our father’s eye.  He loves each one of us the same.

When we become part of His family, through Jesus, we are set free from the bondage of this world.  Those ugly sins of the past have been washed away and we’re forgiven.  Therefore we have become a new creation.  We are united not only in our beliefs, but in our love for one another.

Addendum:  As we are faced with division again about what we should do with the explosion of immigrants pouring to our border, let’s try to remember that there is a legal way to become citizens of our country.  It takes longer, costs money and insures the benefits of being a U.S. citizen.  These masses matter too.  The unborn children and near birth babies that are eliminated through abortion matter too.  Us old folks matter also.  In God’s eyes, we all matter. We are His creation and He loves each one of us with unconditional love.

And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.”

Genesis 1:31 (ESV)
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MY WRITING JOURNEY

“By now I thought I’d be sitting by glorious, turquoise waters on some Mediterranean beach, drinking something exotic and have money pouring out of my ears,” said no real author ever.  We start with such passion and fervor.  As a painter crafts a masterpiece and thinks he’s done, than takes a closer look, noticing something wrong or feeling the need to add more – so it is with a writer.  First draft is like pouring your life into something and feeling you’ve said it all. Then you re-read and find flaws or things don’t flow as they should.  You beat yourself up for a while and then go back for more.  My day in the sun has not yet arrived, but it will.

I must admit, my journey has taken a brief detour. Something got in the way. Just as in life, we run through times of being put through obstacles, we might experience writer’s block – our muse is out to lunch or we simply need to separate ourselves from our masterpiece for a time.

In my case, the re-routing of the past few weeks started about a week after completing a performance in a play. In all my years of performing it never seems to fail. I fall victim to something similar to postpartum depression, accompanied by laryngitis, coughing and what seems to be an eternal recovery period.

Some suggest that diving into another project will keep the creative process moving on. Some will tell you that you need a break before moving on. Others suggest that God is telling you to relax for a while. I agree with all those things. As I get older, I’m doing so more often,

Usually a driven person with a strong work ethic finds it difficult to take a break. We feel compelled to work even when we age. Probably then even more so, because the time we have allotted to us is quickly waning.  Still we must take time to heal and since writing isn’t a physical activity we can still use our old noggin, which I’ve been keeping engaged with. Of course after a while, unless you put those thoughts on the keyboard, they quickly fade into oblivion.

In the meantime, muddling through seems like a good option

So as my body gets ready for the next step to finishing my novel, I will wait sort of patiently, and pray that I get it done before God chooses to take me home, it’s just another lesson in perseverance and endurance.

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GIVING IN TO CLOSED CAPTIONING

 

I am slowly losing my hearing.  With the high cost of hearing aids, I’ve been struggling along.  This disability can be a disadvantage to a happy marriage.  Having the television turned up so high forces the other partner into another room.  It can also add to the difficulties of the hearing impaired because they grow to depend on that extra volume.

A while back I discovered the closed captioning option on our remote and put it into use. It was quite helpful at first.  I was actually able to read what was happening by seeing the dialogue right on the screen. Of course it isn’t always in sync with the action, but you get used to it after a while.  I have visions of an army of little court reporter types, banging away on their keyboards as the listen through headphones – an army of chocolate covered ants perhaps, but I digress.  Of course that isn’t what happens.  Everything is computerized today.

I’ve often complained about “spell check” and even used it as an excuse for my poor typing skills, but I had no idea what was involved in closed captioning for television – particularly in providing live news broadcasts.  There is very little time to revise anything.  Most of the words are on the screen before that can happen.  In a way, it’s become a form of entertainment in itself.  For example – last night there was a story about a politician who had been on the job for six weeks resigning.  The caption read, “She had been on the John for six weeks,” which left no doubt as to why she was resigning.

My husband has gotten into watching the captions with me.  You never know what they might say – and often are humorously off track.  Like I said, it has become a sort of entertainment.  It doesn’t take much to amuse us.  That isn’t because of our age, it’s because of who we are.  It’s why I married my husband in the first place and one of the reasons our marriage has stood the test of time.  When you can find humor in the ordinary, you are sure to have a life of fun.

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GET OUT OF THE BLACK CLOUDS

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Today I went to the doctor to have my knee X-rayed.  I should be delighted that it is nothing more than a sprain.  The doc mentioned that my knee was practically arthritis free, there were no breaks and it was much healthier than knees of those much younger than me.  I should’ve be elated by that – but much like Eeyore – I felt that dark cloud hanging over my head.

When we aren’t feeling well, our emotions seem to take on a life of their own and everything becomes intensified.  Little things become huge.  Our minds play tricks on us.  We imagine things that simply aren’t so.  When we get a good report, we think something else is wrong with us.  We feel like hypochondriacs.  At least this is the case for this Eeyore.

I feel guilty for putting others out.  I feel like a burden. All the lies that Satan would have us believe come at us like a Brinks truck – crushing us, pushing us over the edge and into a pit of despair.  This sort of thinking shouldn’t be a mindset for one who is considered an encourager.  However, it seems to me, there are times when an encourager needs encouragement as well.  Sadness, depression, anxiety are emotions that affect every one of us.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.”  John 14:27

Such beautiful words of comfort – straight from the mouth of Jesus.  He was prophesying His own death at this time, but gave His disciples the assurance that His peace would remain.  Our world is filled with sickness, death, desperation, depression, sadness and all the other junk that Jesus carried to the cross and died for.  There is no longer a reason for us to suffer, because He has done it for us.

Still, we are human beings, living in that sin sick world.  We are imperfect.  We’re subject to things that bring us down – worry us – cause us to falter.  The simple answer is to follow His lead and let our hearts not be troubled nor afraid.  Seems so easy, doesn’t it?

We’ve not been promised a life of perfection here on earth.  That is the life we’ll enjoy after our death.  In the meantime we are to be in the world, but not of it. Do not be affected by the things of the world.  Do not succumb to the lies.  Do not give up.  Throw away the black clouds and walk in the light.  Our day is coming soon.

 

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WOULDN’T IT BE NICE – PART TWO

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Well here I am again.  The second Sunday of missing church.  The virus has created my nasty cough, which can be quite a nuisance in church, which is reason enough to stay home.  Right after finishing my blog yesterday, I got out of my chair and something snapped in my knee.  This is the knee that was giving me trouble before I got this stupid virus.  Somehow when we get sick, one malady takes away from the others.  I guess that’s a good thing.  God allows us to focus on one thing at a time.

My attention quickly changed from my cough to my knee, which now had me writhing in pain and unable to put weight on it.  So it was back to the couch for the rest of the day, ice packs and Bio Freeze were on the menu.  Having spent the past 48 hours in my pajamas, with hair in need of shampooing and hoping to make it from the couch to the bathroom without falling down, I was definitely ready to get ready for divine intervention.

When I did venture from the couch to the bathroom, I must’ve been quite a sight.  Picture Gabby Hayes or Ma Kettle hobbling along on one foot, coughing like a barking dog, with no teeth.  Good thing I had no visitors.

I’ve spent the greater part of my Sunday watching old musicals and westerns once more, I’m becoming quite an expert on melodramatic acting.   Again my mind turned to silly random thoughts:

  • Wouldn’t it be nice if all the fat on our bodies could be brushed off and magically turned into cash?
  • Wouldn’t it be nice to be pain free
  • Wouldn’t it be nice to be a teenager again and know everything, thereby being able to solve all the problems of the world?
  • Better yet, wouldn’t it be nice to be 3 again – no cares, no depression or anxiety, just a longing to have fun?
  • Wouldn’t it be nice to create a musical western (I think it’s already been done) where Matt Dillon and Festus carried nothing but pea shooters and sling shots in their holsters and Miss Kitty served energy drinks instead of whiskey?  Instead of a show down in the street they could take it to the stage and instead of shooting each other, they’d break into song spontaneously.

Next week I intend to go to church.  Last week my pastor graciously gave me the Lord’s Supper in our dining room.   I know God understands why I haven’t been at worship.  I know the people there are also praying for me and I know that I will get well.  There’s great power in prayer.  Even for the small things.  Sunday seems like just another day when you don’t attend.  It’s as if something is missing.  Next week I’ll be in church.   I’m sure to be up to my ears with Bonanza, Big Valley, Gun smoke, etc.  I may even be ready to write that musical western.

 

 

 

 

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WOULDN’T IT BE NICE?

 

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Something happens to a person’s mind when they acquire a virus.  I’m not talking about being hacked, although it seems I may have been.  I am talking about the kind of virus that gets passed from person to person and hits you like a ton of bricks.  I’ve learned that it’s probably something you have to wait out for the duration of seven to ten days.  I’m on day eight and it doesn’t look like any relief is in sight.

When you’re confined to home with nothing to do but watch old westerns on TV – when you try to sleep but the constant dripping in the back of your throat continually tickles and stirs up a violent sounding cough which makes people think you’re dying – when your body aches so much that you feel you’ve been working out at the gym for 48 hours – something happens to your mind in the process.  You start thinking – which could be considered disastrous for some, unusual for others and just plain weird for a few.

You think of how you could change the world:

  • What if you could stop all violence just by holding up your hand and saying STOP?
  • What if you voted and actually believed that your vote counted?  What if it did?
  • What if every politician was given a couple hundred dollars to spend on their campaign and if they went over the cap, they would be fined a couple hundred dollars which would then be divided up amongst the other candidates?
  • What if people stopped looking at the negative side of things and started to care about each other again?
  • What if we didn’t have to lock our doors?
  • What if we didn’t have to fear for our lives when we shop at Walmart?
  • What if someone invented something to eliminate viruses and the common cold?
  • What if chocolate covered everything?
  • What if ants covered the chocolate?
  • What if you were devoured by chocolate covered ants?

As you see, I’m beginning to lose it again.  Most of the things I’m asking for in my “what ifs” have to do with things that affect me personally.  Maybe it would be better to turn that around a bit and see what would happen.

  • What if there was no violence?
  • What if all our elected officials had to pass a complete background check, sign an affidavit saying they had never done anything wrong and run for office based on their contribution to society?
  • What if the internet had never been invented?
  • What if people communicated face to face and learned to work their differences out together?
  • What if someone invented a cure for viruses and it contained chocolate and ants?

Maybe I’m onto something.

Instead, I will stop trying to solve all the problems of our times by going to the couch and watching another episode of “How the West Was Won.”  I wonder what would’ve happened had the west not been won.

Disclaimer:  These ramblings are from a mind which has been sick for eight days and wants out.  Any attempt at truth or sanity is beyond the capability of the author.

 

 

 

 

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LOVE YOUR ENEMIES

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One of the most difficult commandments from Jesus during His time on this planet is for us to love our enemies.  Of course it’s easy to love those who love us in return, but those who hate us and hurt us?

If your child comes home one day, crushed by the cruel bullying of another –

If you lose your job, because your integrity has been called into question –

If you hear false words being said, gossip filling the air, abuse, hatred and the ugliness of our world currently –

If you or a loved one is being persecuted for what you believe –

If you’re fearful of going to work or school because there might be another mass shooting –

How can we possibly be accepting of those who perpetrate these crimes against us?  How can we LOVE them?  How can we possibly look them in the eye and truly forgive them for their evil acts against us?

Jesus also told His followers (and us) that we should love one another as we would want to be loved.  Both of those commands stand harshly in the face of our natural feelings.  Our instincts tell us to fight back.  Retaliation is mentioned throughout the Old Testament.  Even King David cried out against his enemies.

As Christians we’re set to higher standard, not because we are any better than our enemies, but because we are to be imitators of Christ.  He withstood the sting of the scourge.  He winced in pain as the nails pierced his flesh.  He withstood humiliation, being spat upon and falsely called a blasphemer.  In spite of all that, He willingly gave His life for every human being – past, present and future.  He washed away the sins of Charles Manson, Judas Iscariot and Adolph Hitler right along with mine and yours.  Unfortunately, those guys never asked for God’s forgiveness.

When He overcame death and rose again to life, He was sealing His legacy with us.  He demonstrated what we have to look forward at our own death – life everlasting.

When we believe in Jesus as Son of God- Savior of the world – God with us – God in the flesh – we must also believe that His grace is sufficient for us.  What a splendid gift we receive every time we confess our sins and are forgiven by Him.  We then owe it to those who hurt us – those who bully or challenge our worth – those who lie about us – to let them know that you, like Christ, are willing to forgive as well.

Dear, Heavenly, Father,

It’s so hard to forgive those who have done us wrong, yet you found it in your heart to take on my sin, along with the sin of all, so that we could become heirs of your eternal kingdom.   Your gift is beyond my comprehension.  Teach me to forgive my enemies as your have forgiven them.  Help me to show compassion to those who hurt me.  I know I will not be perfect until I am joined with you in heaven.  While I live, let my walk be upright and a reflection of what you’ve done for me and all of humanity.  May the example of your humility, servant attitude, compassion and forgiveness spur me on to act in the same way.  In Jesus name I pray.  Amen!

 

 

 

 

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WALLY’S FRYDADDY FRIDAY FUNNY

 

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TIS THE SEASON TO BE WALLY!

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JULIE’S FRIDAY FUNNY

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COCKEYED OPTIMIST

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When the skies are brighter canary yellow
I forget ev’ry cloud I’ve ever seen,
So they called me a cockeyed optimist
Immature and incurably green.

I hear the human race
Is fallin’ on its face
And hasn’t very far to go,
But ev’ry whippoorwill
Is sellin’ me a bill,
And tellin’ me it just ain’t so.

I could say life is just a bowl of Jello
And appear more intelligent and smart,
But I’m stuck like a dope
With a thing called hope,
And I can’t get it out of my heart!
Not this heart.

I seem to be on a musical track this week.  Unfortunately, the tunes of our times are anything but lovely.  In coming upon the above song from “South Pacific” it has me thinking in a different direction.

Every time there is an act of violence in our land, it seems we need to find someone to blame.  There are a million reasons why these things happen, many of which we will never become privy to.  There is often a call to arms (poor choice of words) to get rid of the guns – to make tougher laws – to call our congressmen.  All of which are pointless.

My friend, Julie has written a post about our call to stand up and speak our minds, or the stones themselves will shout out.  I know she’s right, but I’m not one to rant.  I don’t like to stir up controversy.  I’m not confident in my ability to change minds, but I do know that no matter what happens in this world there is always hope.  I know this because God has assured me of it through His Holy Word.

Last week was one filled with hope in my little world.  I watched as my granddaughter participated in a program called The Penguin Project.  For four months a group of special needs kids worked together with a group of mentors, a musical staff, choreographer, director, costumer and staff of dedicated parents and volunteers to produce the musical, “Aladdin, Jr.”   This project is designed to give those with special needs the same opportunity other children have to be part of a theatrical performance.  The final result was astounding.  It accomplished its goal, because of something that seems to be missing in our world today.

That element is hope.

I refuse to let the events of this weekend get in the way of the joy I experienced by seeing the culmination of dedication and hard work of a wonderful group of outstanding people.

The ugliness of our world seems to be growing like a ravaging weed – weaving its way into every aspect of our lives.  Yet there are still the stones that Julie spoke of.  The silent ones, filled with a cockeyed optimistic view of what might be.  We all have the ability to hope, just as we have the intelligence to love, to persevere, to care.  The One who can open those silent voices is available to all who call on His name.

The weeds need to be expelled by the goodness of people.  When evil happens, we need to look for the good.  We need to take on that cockeyed optimistic view of life, rather than give in to the forces that destroy.

We are in this world for a span of years, but it is not our final home.  We have a much better place to look forward to, but while we live here, we must continue to have hope.  God will prevail.

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ENRAGED

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ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©

A mighty torrent of raging water gushes through the mountain passes,

Tumbling over granite,

Seeping through the tiniest cracks,

Forging a path of energy on its way,

Life hits us like that sometimes,

The waters come crashing around us in waves,

We think we will be overtaken by them,

We fear drowning,

It is then that God leads us to the still waters of His compassion,

He guides us through the perils of our existence,

He refreshes us when we’ve endured them,

He restores us through His mighty hand,

He holds us close in His tight embrace,

Lead us through this life, dear, Lord,

To pastures green,

Nourish us through your Word,

Lead by your great example,

And bring us home safely to You.

 

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A SURE FOUNDATION

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ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©

Atop a hill, within the mist, a sturdy city stands,

It has withstood the sands of time, by folding of the hands,

The prayers are not all answered, but certainly are heard,

In God’s own time and by His plan, He listens to each word.

 

When we are firmly grounded in the Word of God’s own voice,

Our faith in Him will carry us, for it is by His choice,

That we should someday share His home, that He will take us there,

Because of His great love for us, He has so much to share.

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WHERE IS LOVE?

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As most of you know, I have always loved musical theatre.  Telling a story through music is much like the operas of old, but a dramatic telling of a favorite tale always seems to bring them to life for me.

In 1960, a British musical appeared for the first time on the West End, based upon the story of “Oliver Twist,” written by Charles Dickens.  I remember trying to muddle my way through the book before the musical came out.  I struggled with mainly with the language of the book.  Lionel Bart wrote the music and lyrics for “Oliver,” which continued to enjoy a long run on Broadway and is performed today by many community theatres and local high schools.

The story is one we’ve grown accustomed to in musical theatre.  The hero has fallen on hard times.  His life never seems to get better until someone rescues him and loves him beyond measure.  What starts as a tragedy almost always has a happy ending.  In this musical there is a beautiful ballad, sung by Oliver in hopes of finding parental love.

Where is love?
Does it fall from skies above?
Is it underneath the willow tree
That I’ve been dreaming of?
Where is she?
Must I close my eyes to see?
Will I ever know the sweet “hello”
That’s only meant for me?
Who can say where she may hide?
Must I travel far and wide?
‘Til I am beside the someone who
I can mean something to …
Where…?
Where is love?

Who can say where…she may hide?
Must I travel…far and wide?
‘Til I am beside…the someone who
I can mean…something to…
Where?  Where is love?

We’re all born with an innate desire to be loved, whether it be the love of a parent, one you will share with someone else and eventually grow old with.  Over time the desire for love has become jaded and corrupted.  In some cases, people go through life never experiencing the joy of loving someone or being loved.

Jesus spoke of the perfect love of God.  He made mention of that love several times in His ministry.  He told us to love each other as we would want to be loved.  He told us to have a servant attitude – giving rather than demanding.  He told us that the greatest love comes from God, the Father, because He is love.

Where is love?

Have we lost track of it?

Has it been replaced with hate?

As we look at the events occurring in our country today and during the past half a century, it may seem that love is dead – that love has been forgotten – that God is dead.

I refuse to believe that.

I believe that God is love and He is as alive today as He was in the beginning.  I also believe that there are many others who believe this way.  Before we start blaming others, before we condemn social issues or political views, we need to look inward.  The love of God was placed into every human life at his birth.  It’s our job to keep it alive.

 

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POLITICS HAS NO PLACE IN THIS

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Here we go again.  A series of mass shootings has set the political pundits into action.  The call for gun control – attention to mental illness – the evils of video games – has once more come to the headlines, almost overshadowing the resulting deaths, injuries and trauma connected to the incidents.

It seems the first call to action has become a political intervention rather than a God intervention.  There can be a million reasons someone decides to kill a multitude of people.  We try hard to put a logical solution to the problems, but let’s not forget the lives that were spent in the process nor those left behind to deal with their grief.

These happenings are occurring far too often.  Whatever the reason, we have definitely lost track of something in our country.  It has nothing to do with mental illness, video games, white supremacy, racism or guns.  It has everything to do with a lack of value placed on human life along with not taking responsibility for our own actions.

Over the years, the raising of children has been turned over to strangers who may not share your values.  We’ve given into legalizing abortion and probably soon will see euthanasia being an option for those who are tired of living.  We are legalizing illegal drugs.  We create more and more drugs to keep us alive, but when it seems death is imminent, we pull the plug.  Every day we are trying to run our lives, rather than letting God into them.

We’ve walked away from institutions of worship because of scandal in the church – too many rules – too much structure – too much fire and brimstone and not enough feeling good about ourselves.  We’ve given out medals and trophies to children who did nothing to deserve them.  We concern ourselves with raising children that are well rounded,  by enrolling them in a hundred different activities.  We even allow them to change their sex at an early age to prevent any problems down the road.

In spite of all of that, there is reason for hope.  God is still in charge.  He watches as we dig ourselves deeper into sin, but He never stops loving us.  As messed up as we get as a society, He is always there with open arms to welcome us back.  He never changes.  In fact He is the most consistent being you will ever encounter in this life and beyond.  Instead of blaming others, let’s start looking within.  Are we willing to ask God to intervene in our country?  Can we once again trust in Him as our forefathers did?  Will He hear our prayers?  Of course He will.  All we need is to turn back to Him.  Only He can heal our land.

 

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