CONTRAST
This is another favorite of Paul’s art. The stark contrast of the lone white tree in the center of darkness is so true of us once we have become part of Jesus’ family. We stand out from others, not because we are better or that we’ve earned our way to heaven, but because our God is so good that He loves us and washes us clean in spite of our darkness.
ART & POETRY FROM PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
The world is filled with darkness, the sky is filled with clouds,
The hold of sin entwines you, the weeds encase like shrouds,
But in that deepest sadness, one light remains unmoved,
His arms reach out to hold you, your life will be improved,
Just ask that Light to guide you, repent and follow Him,
By giving up the darkness, new life in you begins.
MY WRITING JOURNEY
Most people have a preconceived idea about artists. Some think being one requires living in squalor, experiencing all areas of life and staring at the face of a computer all day. While others imagine the debonair, carefree lifestyle of one who has tons of money and needs to fill their time. There are also those who think that an artist is full of themselves, arrogant, time squanderers who can’t manage to get a real job.
The truth is an artist may be all of those things. A painter or sculptor may spend days weeks and even years on a piece of work which can easily be duplicated and sold for so much less by mechanical means. A dancer works on a piece of choreography for weeks only to injure a calf muscle and be unable to perform. A musician strive for years to compose a complicated orchestral piece and die the day before it’s performed. A writer can write every day with discipline and dedication to the art form only to have his work disappear into cyberspace in just an instant.
As a writer I’ve made it a habit to write at a certain time of day so that I am able to remain on top of my craft. I write about things I’ve experienced or know about. I write because it’s an inner thing which I can’t not do. I’ve published a few things, but always seem to fail when it comes to the submission part of the work, because of my low self confidence and unworthiness. I’ve never felt good enough at what I do. I suppose that has to do with having such high expectations.
Today anyone can be an artist. The proof is in the fact that there are so many out there. The competition is fierce. To self-publish is the norm. Book publishers are almost a thing of the past. It’s kind of like the magic has been taken out of authorship. No more do you hear about an Edgar Allen Poe, dug deep into the depths of depression – alone – suffering – pondering on thoughts of death and suicide. Well, maybe Stephen King, but I don’t know the guy. The multi-layered tales of Sherlock Holmes and the character driven stories of Victor Hugo are classic, but who are the classic writers of today?
Maybe I should be satisfied with my desire to write and not so concerned with my success. I believe once we let ourselves write for the sake of feeling the need to, we are freeing ourselves to do our best writing.
THE PRODIGAL’S FATHER
Originally posted on 06/17/201
Parenting is one of the most difficult occupations out there. You’re responsible for another’s life, for the things they learn and become, for their discipline and social skills, for their behavior, what they eat, how they dress, healing their bruises both physical and emotional and that’s just the first year.
By the time they’re old enough to leave the nest, you’ve had a profound influence of good on your children. They’ve become outstanding citizens, hard workers and responsible adults – yeh, right.
For most of us, parenting is done on a wing and a prayer. It’s a learn-as-you-go process not only for the kids, but the adults as well. God gives us lots of examples on raising children, but one that imitates His Fatherly love and compassion comes from one of Jesus’ parables.
The story of the prodigal son tells how an irresponsible young man left home and spent all his inheritance (which his dad gave him in advance) on foolish living. Within a short time he was begging for food and even eating the scraps intended for pigs. It isn’t a pretty story, is it?
How often do we squander the inheritance God has so richly blessed us with? We take it for granted. We waste it. We squander all of it without gratitude.
Most fathers would find that to be the behavior of a rebellious, ungrateful son. God, the Father (the prodigal’s dad in the story) welcomes his wayward son with open arms, just as He does for us.
We’ve all sinned and deserve His punishment, but thankfully, His love is way beyond human comprehension and He welcomes us back without a blink or any expectations.
As we look forward to celebrating dads this weekend, let’s not forget our heavenly Father. His love spans the breadth of the world. His love endures forever. He never stops loving us, even when we abandon Him.
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Tagged FAMILY, parenting, Prodigal son, responsibility
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COVERED WITH HIS PINIONS
ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
This place that we have loved, this lonely withered space,
Has faltered with the winter snows and cannot rise again,
Without that inner life, that comes from heaven’s place,
Our lives will be diminished and scorned as dead terrain,
Within the ashen colors, inside the lifeless trees,
The damage has been sown, there is no longer gain,
Tempests are replaced with a quiet gentle breeze,
Though life has been drained from it, the fight will not be lost,
The battles will remain, but victory has a cost,
The precious blood of Jesus has paid for every sin,
And wrapped us with the will to live and new life to begin.
Our loss in life will be our gain, when to the end we come,
When we decrease we will increase, God’s plan than will be done.
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SUMMERTIME MOVIES
I know it’s summer, because school’s out and it’s time to go to Tuesday $5.00 movies with my granddaughter. This has been a standing date, whenever there is anything worth seeing. My granddaughter is sixteen, yet she is still a child at heart. She loves Disney movies. She still enjoys animated films and make believe. So do I. I guess we’re cut from the same cloth. Yesterday, our date almost didn’t happen, because all but two seats were sold out. I snatched them up. Our seats were one row apart and she sat behind me so she could make sure I behaved.
I’d almost forgotten the story of Aladdin and the magic lamp, but as the film unfolded it all came flooding back into my brain. The thought of a magic lamp, a flying carpet, three wishes and the possibility of having anything you ever dreamed of started sneaking into my memory. Maybe this is why I’d forgotten about the story. Throughout my life, promises of having everything necessary for a luxurious lifestyle was never meant to be.
As the story spilled onto the screen, it was apparent that luxury wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The poor street urchin, Aladdin, was an orphan, fending for himself on the streets of Agrabah. Straight from the tales of the Arabian nights, this story has evolved over the years, but still has one main thread running through it. That being, the triumph of good over evil. This theme has been manipulated over time, but I love the way this film depicts the wrongdoings Aladdin was involved in just to get a meal each day. Even though he said it was OK as long as he didn’t get caught. The idea of a young child having to live that way is sorrowful, but he was doing what was necessary to survive.
He falls for the wealthiest woman in town and gains control of a magic lamp which houses a huge blue genie. The genie will grant him three wishes and Aladdin learns to choose those wishes wisely. When the villain interferes there are conflicts, but in the end, the good guy always wins. Happy endings are imperative in any good fairy tale. The lovely lessons learned from this story is that we are all equal really. We have the same beginnings. Our circumstances will affect our lives, but how they turn out depends on how we live them.
My granddaughter is currently rehearsing for a stage production of “Aladdin.” She is part of a program designed for children with special needs. This program casts children of various special needs as characters in the play. Each of them has a mentor who works alongside them, guiding them through the process and helping them if they forget a line or miss a cue. In a way, she’s like that magic Genie in the lamp, allowing some very special friends to see their wishes realized on stage.
Each year, this child has astounded me with her care for others. She is indeed a treasure in herself. This experience has led her to contemplate a career as a special education teacher. I know whatever she does will be part of her passion to help others.
In the meantime, we will go to the movies on Tuesdays. We will continue to bond as grandparent and grandchild. I will put up with her mood swings and she will speak louder so I can hear her and tolerate my driving, my breathing issues, my memory losses and my inability to keep up with her. Why? Because this is our story. We love each other and want what’s best for each other. That’s what I call a happy ending.
ANOTHER TIME & PLACE
ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
This painting was done as the backdrop for “Such a Time as This,” a musical play written and produced almost ten years ago with my children’s theatre group. Paul researched the ancient cities of that time period and came up with this. He also found several pictures of the gods that were worshipped at that time, upon which he created the interior of the king’s palace. This city had wealth beyond measure along with lavish lifestyles, a big party scene and lots and lots of sin.
As a nation grows, this often happens. As I think of our own nation, opulent and luxurious, it’s hard to imagine the seedy side of life. Yet behind all the beauty and apparent wealth, there is another whole side to a civilization. It includes the poor, the hurting, the sick, hungry and those who have no alternative for a better life. When the bottom side of society becomes apparent, all the glory of that place is hidden in darkness. I pray that our nation never succumbs to the evil that inhabits it.
It was at the height of it’s opulence, this city from of old,
It commanded respect and attention, its streets were paved with gold,
It shone like the brilliant sun in the sky, reflecting its bright rays,
Within the dark shadows secrets survived, infesting all the days.
The brilliance soon disappeared from all sight, as darkness slithered in,
No one realized what was happening, knew nothing of this sin,
The ominous shadows penetrated the brilliance of the day,
Corruption and greed encapsulated and sent the good away.
That once shining and glorious city, no longer casts its light,
What remains are shards of days long ago, decay, great loss and blight,
If only the fire had been overseen, by those within her gate,
Perhaps a flame would rise from the embers, and new life would create.
We should learn from our own sweet history, but we often fail the test,
We think that we have the perfect answers, we think that we know best,
Instead of trusting our almighty God, we struggle and we fall,
Still patience abides in His gracious love, His love is meant for all.
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THOUGHTS ABOUT MY DAD
This rewind was first posted on 06/14/17. The photograph is of my dad on his wedding day. He was only twenty years old. He died at the age of 61 – a short life, but one filled with more love in his heart than he dared to show.
My dad taught me how to tie my shoes.
He grieved with me when my box turtle fell off the ledge
of our fourth floor apartment.
He came with me to the five and dime to return a trinket I had stolen
and apologize for not paying for it.
He caught me taking one of his cigarettes – A camel without a filter.
He then taught me the proper way for a lady to hold a cigarette.
I was probably fifteen.
My dad taught me the difference between right and wrong
And let me know that I would always be accountable for my actions.
When I became a teenager, he was the one who told me the facts of life.
It really made him squirm.
He always “interviewed” my dates.
They had to pass his inspection, but their opinion of him didn’t matter.
He would be at the door to greet us when we got home.
I tried my best to live up to his expectations, but I never felt I could.
His words of praise were few and far between,
But I relished each one and held it tightly in my heart.
He worked two jobs so I could attend a private high school.
He wanted so much more for my sister and me –
More than he ever had.
He must have thought we needed extra attention.
He had a beautiful tenor voice and always sang loudly in church.
His Irish heritage boomed on St. Patrick’s day as he sang “Danny Boy”
And raised another glass. He could drink more beer than the rest
Of them and it didn’t affect him in the least.
Time passed and I fell in love. My dad went a little crazy for a while.
He put the newspaper in the refrigerator
and the bread down the clothes chute.
He became an emotional wreck.
He held my arm tightly as we walked down the aisle to meet my husband,
I could see tears glistening in his usually stoic eyes. He was so proud.
He died at sixty one – a long time smoker – he suffered with lung cancer.
He clung tightly to life – maybe feeling he wasn’t
quite ready for what lay ahead.
Maybe he hadn’t yet made peace with God for his past sins.
Finally knowing that he was forgiven allowed him to give in.
It gave him comfort.
I wasn’t at his side when he passed. We were driving to be with him.
As I looked at the brilliant blue sky, a cloud appeared and took on the
Form of a dove. It quickly floated high above and dispersed into heaven.
It gave me comfort.
I look forward to seeing him again so I can let him know
what a great impact he had on my life.
FATHER’S DAY WEEK REWIND
Since Father’s Day is less than a week away, I thought I’d pull out some of my previous posts on the subject. The following, “WHAT MAKES A GOOD FATHER,” was originally posted on 06/15/2017.
Opinions about fatherhood have changed drastically over the past 30 or 40 years and I would like to address that today. Somehow, maybe as a result of the feminist movement, men have been lowered in value and the role of father has diminished tremendously. in their attempt to get better paying jobs or achieve higher status, many women have placed men lower than themselves. Maybe (and I know I’ll get a lot of heat for this) in trying to achieve equality with men, women have created a nightmare in the scheme of God’s plan for families.
Parenting is a partnership, just like marriage is. When even the smallest portion of the job is taken away or lacks respect, the job loses value – and whether you believe it or not, parenting is a full-time occupation.
In Psalm 103:13 we have a good job description for fathers.
“As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.”
Compassion is defined as a sympathetic consciousness of others’ distress together with a desire to alleviate it. The word probably isn’t used much today, because many are more concerned with self than the needs of others. A father is expected to be the spiritual leader of the family, and he needs to take that job seriously.
Today’s world is geared to narcissistic values and often the ability to serve others gets lost in that. Fathers have often been depicted as the buffoon in such television shows as “All in the Family” up to “The Simpsons” and beyond. It isn’t easy being a good dad in today’s world. Single parenting has become the norm in many situations and leadership takes a hit there too.
This week as we prepare to honor dads, let’s remember how God fathers His children. He loves us unconditionally. He will lay down his life for us. He will continue to care about those who have strayed from Him. He looks at His children’s forgiven hearts rather than their sin, because of the death of His Son, Jesus. He corrects them, He protects them, has a blueprint designed for their lives and He is with them throughout those years into eternity.
That’s a tough act to follow, but it gives us a guide for what God expects of dads. Let’s pray for their continued presence in their children’s lives.
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ONE MORE ANGEL IN HEAVEN
About a year ago, a few of us ladies from church decided to get together socially once a week. We’ve grown from a small group of three to a total of about 8 depending on who is available. We usually meet for coffee and conversation.
On Friday night, one of those friends went home to heaven. In the brief time of getting to know her, we all watched as she struggled with COPD and other health issues. For her, this little weekly diversion was more than necessary. It was a way for her to feel connected, loved and open to talk about her life. It has also become a nurturing time for all of us. We can bare our difficulties without being judged. We can talk about things funny or serious and share our common faith through adversity.
This friend grew up in the Christian faith. She served her country in the military. She dreamed of some day becoming a librarian, because of her love of books. She talked about her sons and grandchildren a lot. She was so proud of those little ones and wanted them to be a part of her church as well. Her life was full of tragedy beyond our comprehension, yet she clung to the cross and her hope of a future in heaven.
Through this interaction, we became bonded as friends. Her death came as a complete surprise to us, because she seemed so happy the last few times we were together. She had some frustrations with using the prescribed oxygen for her breathing a while back. She quit smoking and seemed on a path to physical recovery. Last week she sat with us in church and worshipped alongside us. Her face was radiant and I had a feeling of comfort when I talked to her. She seemed to have come to grips with her illness and at peace with it. She also talked about another grandchild on the way.
Life is so fragile. On Saturday, I wrote a post about aging and never knowing when our time will come to an end. For my friend, life is just beginning. She is in the presence of our Savior. She will no longer struggle for air. She is wrapped in glorious robes of salvation and will live eternally because of what Jesus did for her. Death has no dominion over us when we believe in God’s everlasting love for us. Rest in eternal peace, my friend. We’ll all get together again someday.
“Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed,” 1Corinthians 15:51
COUNTDOWN TO 77
Every time I go in for my six month physical, I feel like I’m getting an oil change. Each of my levels is checked to make sure they are functioning the way they should. I’m asked the same questions I was asked six months ago. Are you getting enough exercise? Are you eating right? Do you feel safe at home?
The answers don’t change. I’ve never done the right amount of exercising. I’m physically active when I know I’m moving, which often is as simple as getting out of bed. I eat the same way I did when I was twenty five, but now the exercise I’m not doing is catching up with the caloric intake. I feel safe at home. I’ve always felt safe at home until someone started asking me if I feel safe at home. The thought never occurred to me before.
Suddenly when we get older, we are somehow treated like little children again. It is assumed that we have lost all our mental faculties – our physical stamina – our ability to think, reason and take care of ourselves. Today there are more people who call themselves senior citizens then ever before. I used to think being a senior was a place of honor. Now that I am one, I’m having second thoughts.
I’m still a viable part of my community. I am active in the community theatre scene. I have a social life. I am involved in church activities. I spend time with friends, but I also enjoy being alone. I have lost a few inches in height, but still feel I stand as tall as most of my peers. I believe I am here for a purpose. I’m still trying to figure out what that is. I love to write and spend hours a day doing so. I still enjoy puttering in my garden, though now my body requires more H2O because I sweat more than I did when I wasn’t doing all that exercise as a youngster.
As I approach another birthday, I always like to take a look at what I’ve accomplished through my time on this planet. It’s like getting a 100,000 mile checkup. Things are beginning to break down and parts have to be replaced. The spark plugs need changing and the belts need tightening, but the engine is still OK and should last for a while longer.
We never know how long we have left. My time could be up today. I could live another twenty years. When looking at a life, we should really look forward rather than back. The miles we’ve put on during our existence have taken us on many adventures. We’ve seen many things and discovered much about the world around us, but the truth is looking back isn’t always the best way to live. Pressing on to the final victory, which has already been won for us, forces us to look ahead. God has given these years as a time of grace – a time to make a difference in the life of another person – a time to share the love of God – a time to spend wisely.
ACUMEN
Searching for wisdom is as old as time itself. Ever since man fell into Satan’s arms, there is a need to prove ourselves. A word like acumen isn’t used much today in regard to wisdom. It is more akin to being shrewd, visionary, somewhat like what is commonly called the American business man or woman.
The traits associated with this word have a slightly negative slant. We’re always looking for solutions to problems and maybe duct tape is the only answer. Maybe the solutions don’t require a master’s degree or years of personal experience.
I believe our current president is a man filled with acumen. He knows how to seal a deal. He has tremendous business savvy. He knows how to solve problems and build teams that will advise him. He has the ability to see the best and worst of people. He is a people person. He knows what the people want and deserve. He loves his country. Does all of that acumen make him a wise man?
This little word carries a lot of punch. It was literally derived from the Latin word which meant to sting with something sharp, thus mental sharpness or shrewdness. Again it’s not a word used much today. The truth is, the word wisdom has morphed into acumen, which gives it a more negative meaning. When we begin to feel superior to the One who made the rain and causes storms filled with torrential wind and power – when we think we know better that the One who formed man out of the dust of the earth – when we believe we don’t need God’s intervention, our wisdom becomes tarnished and it becomes lost to us.
Job 28 speaks about where our true acumen comes from.
“And he said to man, ‘Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom,
and to turn away from evil is understanding.’”
The fear referred to is not a terror filled fear, but one of great honor and awe for the One who gives it. When we place Him first in our lives, everything else falls into place. Wisdom is a gift from God. It comes from searching His Word on a daily basis – looking for the truth. It is a manual for living, for aging, for parenting, for relationships, for everything we will ever be exposed to on this planet. This awesome gift should be cherished. It has remained for centuries and will continue until Jesus returns again.
THE PRIDE OF OUR NATION
The theater of battle was filled with trucks, tanks, warships and frightened men who weren’t sure of ever returning home. As they faced what seemed to be an unbeatable force, the fear of death had to be at the forefront of their minds.
There were the seasoned officers, who had already faced death. There were the non-commissioned officers on the ground who took over for their commanding officers as they fell in battle. There were the young, frightened, shell shocked and those who had no clue what lay ahead for them.
Our young people don’t hear much about these decisive battles anymore. Unfortunately history has become something that offends rather than teaches. Do we not have an obligation to look at our past so these things will never have to happen again – or at least at such a great cost? Our kids need to know about the courage of placing your life on the line for your country. They have to be taught about the perils of war – the blood shed – the wounded warriors returning without limbs and scarred emotionally for the rest of their lives.
Those young men sat waiting to face death, huddled in landing crafts with only their fears to assail them and their prayers to give them strength and comfort. Adrenaline was pumping, courage was building, their short lives passed quickly before their eyes. The seas remained rough, the skies filled with dark clouds as the waves crashed as the weight of it all grew heavy. When they reached the beach, the ramp would be lowered and two hundred troops would emerge with guns drawn, to face a barrage of certain death. It was the largest amphibious invasion in history to that point.
There are still a few veterans who have memories of this battle engraved into their minds. Those who came home would face flash backs, depression and other related emotional problems. Many would be hailed as heroes, but few felt they deserved the honor. The true definition of hero is someone who does what is necessary for the benefit of his fellow man without question. They just do it.
More than 9000 allied troops lost their lives or were wounded in the invasion, but this battle would eventually allow 100,000 troops to slowly cross Europe and end the reign of terror caused by Adolf Hitler and his insane desire for power.
We owe our military a debt of gratitude. That includes remembering them with great honor and thanks. It has been 75 years since the invasion at Normandy, but we should never forget the cost. In defense of their country and for the cause of freedom, these troops were not only able to fight the battle, but to win the war.
“When you go out to war against your enemies, and see horses and chariots and an army larger than your own, you shall not be afraid of them, for the Lord your God is with you, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt. And when you draw near to the battle, the priest shall come forward and speak to the people and shall say to them, ‘Hear, O Israel, today you are drawing near for battle against your enemies: let not your heart faint. Do not fear or panic or be in dread of them, for the Lord your God is he who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies, to give you the victory.’ ” Deuteronomy 20:1-4
COME TO ME
ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
A pale glimmer of mauve glistens over the city as the sun descends into night,
Leaving a path of darkened shadows and sparkling diamonds in its wake,
Reflections cover a cobblestone street, mirroring the lamplight from inside,
Some shops remain open, while others have ended another day.
Luminosity radiates from the corner church, inviting those in need to enter.
“Come to me,” is the inviting chant “I will carry your burdens for you.”
Simple words yet full of promise and hope,
“Come to me and I will give you rest.”
Peace is offered freely there.
You are under no obligation.
Don’t resist,
Open the door,
Enter,
Step inside and receive the gift of a brand new day.
Your cares may still remain, but something new has been added unto you,
The true Light of the World will change everything.
Come!
MY WRITING JOURNEY
I have set my novel on the shelf for the past three weeks. I felt it a good idea to step away from it for a while and return to it with fresh eyes. During that hiatus, I’ve had thoughts about my characters and how they’ll be received. Will people think I’m writing about them personally? Will the experiences they go through remind them of something that played out in their own lives? Will I offend someone with the words written?
I think a writer has a responsibility to think about things like that. We need to be sure of our facts. We must be inclusive of the history and timeline of the story. We must create characters that have human tendencies and passions to make them seem real. Just as an actor must learn as much about his character before getting on stage, an author must be willing to create living, breathing human beings to be captured in the written word.
We live in a world of political correctness. Not everyone believes the same as we do. We all have different goals and are driven by different things, yet we worry how someone will react to what we say, do or write about. I also believe that writing is just a reflection of life, yet it must be displayed in a way to hold the reader’s interest and leave him longing to read more. This is probably what separates the good writers from the average and excellent authors.
Tomorrow I will take another look at my work. Who knows where it will take me this time?
BESOTTED
“I may not here omit those two main plagues and common dotages of human kind, wine and women, which have infatuated and besotted myriads of people; they go commonly together.”
June is the month for romance and love. Most weddings take place at this time of year, because spring has broken forth and a young man’s fancy has turned to thoughts of – well you know. Women get a little weird at this time of year as well. There’s something about new life, fresh air and sunshine, Vitamin D, hormones and spring that makes our hearts soar.
In my search for a new word today, I came upon this one – besotted. Since spring has already sprung, even here in the tundra, the word came at me with an instant glaring. To be besotted, one is literally intoxicated. To equate love with drunkenness seems a bit bizarre, but when you think about it, falling in love often clouds the mind, just as adult beverages do.
Some synonyms for the word are – plastered, hammered, inebriated, wasted and impaired. Anyone who has imbibed over their limit knows what that feels like. You are out of control. You often lose track of common sense. You do things you wouldn’t otherwise do. Your mind turns to mush.
Is this what happens when you fall in love? We don’t like the idea of being out of control. In fact, most of us feel we must be in control of our lives. We want to follow God’s commandments and be obedient to his will, yet we still feel the need to take an active part in our future and our every day living. Still, as much planning and goal setting we do, there will be obstacles within those plans that side track us and lead us away from what God intended for us in the first place.
True love is much more than a romantic feeling or a word or phrase which sends our hearts reeling. True love requires giving up, giving in and giving. These are things we have a tendency to hang onto rather than throw out there. We like the feeling of power. We feel comfortable when we know what the future holds. We like our ducks to be in a row and our goals to be met. When love steps in, it changes the order we’ve established within our own lives. Now we are responsible for another person. We must put them first. We must do this without hesitation.
Well, that sounds almost as archaic as the word I’ve chosen today. In our world today, we’re told we deserve all the gusto we can gather. We’re entitled to things that are outside of our means. We’re worth it. We are numero uno. This is a feeling that tends to dig deeply into our core. We like the idea of being in control and worthy of the best life has to offer.
The truth is, we don’t deserve any special treatment. We’re all sinful and fall short of God’s requirements. When we think of love, words like sacrifice, commitment, caring, compassion, selflessness should be at the forefront. These are words which describe how God loves us – words which we can imitate in our relationships with those we care about and love.
Today immerse yourself in love. Not the romantic kind, but the unselfish love that God wants us to show one another. When we put others first, we’re opening doors to a passion unknown. We will be besotted – filled to the brim with love unending.
WHAT LAYS BEYOND
ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
What started as a single seed reclining in the earth,
Is now a giant masterpiece with monetary worth,
The time it took to grow this tree encompassed many years,
It suffered many bruises and witnessed many tears,
Some of its limbs were withered, while others brandished life,
Its trunk was strong as iron, yet endured all kinds of strife,
As winds defiled and bent its frame, it seemed that he was lost,
Its roots exposed, its spine now bent from cold and bitter frost,
Still it survived and grew some more and pierced right through the clouds,
Its life went on and does today, evading death’s dark shrouds,
We like that tree continue through life’s discouraging path,
We place our hope in worldly things and we receive God’s wrath,
But when we put our hope in Him our life will never end,
And it will be much greater than our minds can comprehend,
The growth that we experience throughout our earthly days,
Will never reach comparison to what His love purveys,
We lift our eyes to heaven and know what waits beyond,
To see the face of Jesus and know He will respond.
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