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.
I have had a running problem with autocorrect. It amazes me when I read a post of mine after I’ve already sent it. I really need to edit before doing so.
ORIGINAL ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
Sin,
Like a web of deception,
That weaves within and out of our souls,
A network of threads
Intermingled with thoughts,
Words,
Deeds,
Designed to deceive,
To lead us away,
To engulf us with lies,
Darting in and out,
With intricate detail,
Creating a patchwork,
An insidious reminder,
Of the ugliness that lies within,
Without restoration,
Without resolution,
Without resilience,
It captures the mind,
Dulling it,
Deceiving,
Destroying,
Yet there is a refuge,
The web can be broken,
Only by the Creator,
God restores,
Rejuvenates,
Redeems,
Not because of us,
But by the only Redeemer,
Christ alone,
But first we must acknowledge,
Admit,
Ask for help,
Listen to His voice,
Repent
And believe.
When I went to bed last night, I didn’t think about the possibility of not waking up, but when you get to be my age, the odds of that happening become more likely. When we’re children we pray, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” I don’t believe we realize the meaning of that request when we’re young. Youth makes us feel invincible – that we’ll live forever. Death isn’t really in our vocabulary.
Each day that we’re allowed to breathe and take up space on this planet is another gift from God. He gives us this opportunity so we can enjoy His wonderful creation, learn more about Him, appreciate His blessings, grow in our walk with Him and share His gift of eternal life with others.
If I believed that there was nothing after this life, I would have no hope. The average human being in the United States lives to between 77-81 years. That’s really not a long time when you think about it – especially when you’re approaching 75. I guess in the latter years of life we really have to get down to business.
Maybe that’s why I feel it’s so important for me to share the good news of God’s redeeming grace with those who don’t yet know about it. There is no doubt in my mind that this world is in need of saving. Sin abounds. True religion has been compromised. The world offers a variety of what or who to worship, from money to sex to lasciviousness to greed to Satan – even to the physical church itself, which has in some cases become corrupt.
There is only one God and He offers us the best benefit package we could ever hope for. It requires nothing from us other than our belief in Him and all that He tells us in His Holy Word.
Thank you, Lord, for another day. Allow me to use it to serve you in some way. Awaken the light in those who have strayed from you and burn brightly in those who still don’t know you. Amen!
Mary’s Journey & Eternity by Kathy Boecher©
ETERNITY
He died that I could live. He suffered pain and loss.
He gave all He could give, upon that rugged cross.
But on that awesome day, so many years ago,
He for my sins did pay, so freedom I would know.
The story didn’t end there. He came to life once more.
To show me that I too will live within His heavenly door.
After a night of remembering her boy, Mary finally rested. She kept returning to that first moment when His birth was announced by the angel. The short span of His life seemed too brief and yet she knew that He had accomplished more in those few years than most do in a lifetime. The tears had ceased, but the aching in her heart would not go away. Grief is like that.
The Sabbath rest was over and it was time to return to the tomb where Jesus’ body lay. The women would complete the embalming process. She couldn’t bear to see Him again. The deep wounds from the scourge – scars from the nails which pierced His hands and feet – the slash in His side from the soldier’s sword – the imprinted remains of His crown of thorns. It was too much.
The others went before the sun rose. They would tend to the smitten warrior. Mary remained behind and busied herself with thoughts of returning home, but her mind kept returning to her dead Son. Her human heart was bludgeoned by the pain she felt. This isn’t the way it was to end – or was it?
When Mary Magdalene returned with news that the grave had been robbed, her breath left her for a moment. Some of the men returned with her to see for themselves. While she waited, Mary, the mother of Jesus thought of another burial only a short time ago. Their friend Lazarus had died and when Jesus finally got there, Lazarus was already in the grave for 4 days. Mary remembered her Son’s word to Martha,
“I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.”
After those words, He raised Lazarus from the dead. Suddenly those words resonated with Mary. He had the power to raise the dead – He could also raise Himself. By the time the others returned, she knew that Jesus was alive. He said He would return and He did.
And so her journey was complete, but the story wouldn’t end there. This was just the beginning of truth that would sweep across the world and change it forever.
Writing is a solitary occupation, even when you belong to a group of writers – when you have a following on your blog – when your words are well received – it is something that doesn’t happen unless it’s just you and the keyboard. Kind of a depressing thought.
MARY’S JOURNEY By Kathy Boecher©
The memories of yesterday were more than any one human being could bear. Her firstborn Son, subjected to the execution of Roman justice – to the humiliation of this horrible torture – to rejection by His followers and finally death.
She watched as His body writhed with pain and droplets of blood escaped his wounds. She listened as He spoke His final words – struggling for breath under the burden of His own body. She responded with tears as Jesus told His disciple, John to take care of her. She watched in disbelief as the soldiers wagered over his robe. She trembled with the others as the earth began to shake and the clouds burst forth with tears from God. She died inside when He took His final breath and committed Himself into His Father’s hands in death.
It was over. The tears wouldn’t stop that next day. Grief takes time, but she was so confused. She couldn’t understand any of it. This child, conceived by God, carried in her womb for nine months, still so young – why? Why did He have to die in this way? He wasn’t a criminal and yet He’d been treated as one. Why would God allow such a thing? This was His Son! She struggled with these thoughts, but then remembered that this was the way it had to be. The words of the prophet Isaiah –
“For he grew up before him like a young plant,and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.” Isaiah 53:2-3
Those words must’ve resonated with her as she saw Joseph of Arimathea carry her Son’s body to be buried in his own personal tomb. This rich man allowed her Son this final gift, but it wouldn’t bring Him back. They would then prepare His body and lay Him in a cold, dark tomb.
She could barely move from the sorrow she felt. Her tears continued. Her boy was dead.
MARY’S JOURNEY By Kathy Boecher©
Jesus’ beaten and wounded body was exhausted from continuous beatings. His flesh was a mass of blood and torn flesh, along with the spit spewing from His accusers mouths. His trek along the Via Dolorosa included carrying the instrument of His death. He’d gone through hours of interrogation, false accusation and bitter pain. The weight of the cross must’ve been almost more than He could bear.
As Mary stood within the crowd, hearing the violent words, “Crucify Him,” her heart burned. It was only thirty three years since she held His tiny body close to her breast and now it had all come to this. She couldn’t believe it would end this way, but she knew deep inside her that it had to.
The Roman guards were anxious to get this over with, so they pulled a man from the crowd to carry the cross. His name was Simon of Cyrene, Lybia. Many Jews from Cyrene were part of a community in Jerusalem called the Synagogue of the Freedmen. Either he was a permanent resident or he had made the journey to attend the Passover Feast. This man was ordered to carry the cross – to speed things up – to get it over with.
Did Simon do so willingly? Did he realize who Jesus was? Could he recognize Him as the promised Messiah or was this just another religious fanatic? Whatever was going through Simon’s mind, he carried the cross to the place of Jesus’ death.
Mark 16:24-26 “Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul?”
Tears poured from her eyes as Mary observed this act of kindness towards her Son – the only kind act shown Him in all of this. His disciples had run away in fear. Only John remained and was the last one for her to lean as they followed the smitten Lamb to the site of His final hours
As we travel to Golgotha with Jesus, it becomes apparent that being a follower of Christ isn’t an easy road. There will be stumbling blocks along the way, but to live for Jesus will always mean gain for us. Our eternal life depends on it.
Painfully true, even if it doesn’t come wrapped in a rock. No wonder so many are self-publishing these days.
Some of you know, I love weird and wacky holidays. Who needs a writing prompt? On February 14th it was Pet Theft Awareness Day. February 20 was Love Your Pet Day – Yesterday, February 22 was Walking the Dog Day and today we have International Dog Biscuit Appreciation Day.
February is one of those months most of us would rather not experience – especially if you live in Minnesota. We are in the midst of winter doldrums and cabin fever is a way of life not a fun trip up north. February is also the shortest, with only 28 days. It seems an unnecessary month except for the fact that my husband was born in this month.
Maybe folks are thinking more about getting outside with their pets – walking around the frozen lakes with them, loving them, being aware that there are those out there who want to steal them, and feeding them a luscious dog biscuit.
My dog isn’t especially fond of dog biscuits. He’d rather eat a roll of paper towels or toilet paper. I think he needs more fiber in his diet. He is, however, experiencing cabin fever. With each trip outside, he sniffs the air for unusual scents, searches out squirrels and cats. Recently a feral cat was asleep in the middle of our back yard. The dog saw him and took advantage of the opportunity to introduce himself in a most inappropriate way. He jumped on the sleeping cat, who naturally responded with hisses and screeching. A fight ensued without injury to either animal. It did result in a new desire to find and subdue anything new in our yard.
Our pets can give us much pleasure, unconditional love and cause us great anxiety and frustration as well, but we love them just the same. After all, there’s a day for that too.
My dog, Gage.
They say some of the best writing comes from personal experience. I guess this would apply.
ORIGINAL ART & INSPIRATION BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
Gentle waves lap up against the base of this bastion,
It seems to be going nowhere – stuck,
Sun blazes down upon it,
Rain beats against it,
Cold and snow integrate into its space,
It stands alone,
Steadfastly it has stood the test of time,
Diligently it holds sway again adversity,
It is no longer filled with laughter and joy,
It sleeps alone,
Within the confines of a relentless river,
This old haven of delight,
Now fades into oblivion,
It lives alone,
Never to feel the caress of that raging water,
Never to feel the gentle tug of the current,
Never to dance with the sky and waltz with the wind,
Alone.
This really isn’t funny, except I often wonder why some novels always seem to start this way? My grandson, now a senior in high school, would often make a contribution to one of my plays in progress and it started with – It was dark.
Is there something to be said for setting up a story using such a description? Or it simply an overused circumscribing of the ambience of a location. To say something is dark, just what are you trying to imply? What exactly is dark and who is it? We obviously need to be a little more specific.
For example: The luscious, exquisite, dark chocolate beckoned the appetite of a tall, dark and handsome young man, as he sauntered to the light switch. He sunk his pearly whites into the sumptuous treat and flipped the switch. It was no longer dark.
OK, enough rambling. It was dark!
I’m old enough to remember when we celebrated President Lincoln’s birthday on February 12 and Washington’s on February 22. As time went by, all presidents were celebrated on the third Monday of February. As with most American holidays, it transformed into another day off for banks, government offices and schools. It also became part of the great American ideal – How to make a buck off of another holiday.
We used to make flags out of construction paper, or black silhouettes of George or Abraham. Each of those presidents had his own day and I believe we attended school. We were told wonderful stories about how Lincoln was born in a log cabin and self taught. He became a lawyer and eventually president. If he could be a president, we thought we could too. President Washington was more a statesman and hero of the American Revolution who never wanted the job of president.
Those stories are no longer shared in the classroom. History is being rewritten every day and instead of heroes, these men are now just dead presidents, with stories of scandal arising in a heartbeat. It has come so far. that we no longer hold our elected officers in high esteem.
Today there will be marches in LA, NYC and other large cities around our great land. Those protestors will scream in dissention against our current president. This movement to get rid of the man who was duly elected last November continues to undermine our country. How does this look to other nations? How does it look to those who are in office now? What kind of messages are we sending to the future leaders of America – our children?
This day should be a day of honor for those who bravely have and will serve our nation in its highest position – not a day to put a black cloud over her. Put your banners away and your ugly words of dissension. Get a real job and go buy a car or something else that’s on sale today.
In the meantime, we should be encouraging young people to fix our nation rather than break it. We live in the best country in the world and we are slowly destroying her from within.
ART & INSPIRATION BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
What are your thoughts when you see a trail of trains cars, unmoved, contained? Is someone living in there? Is there any hope in a place like that?
When we lived in the city, there were so many of those container cars. In fact, when not in use, they would be stacked in piles of four or more, to await being pulled into use again. It was kind of like looking at a huge city of vacant apartment buildings. Or were they?
Some folks are buying used container cars and repurposing them into places to live. I imagine them to be inhabited at times by the homeless, wayfarer, the hobo, the runaway. Imagine how it feels to live tucked away in a steel box just to stay warm for the night. Imagine what goes through the mind as you hear spray paint cans and disruptive voices surrounding you in the night.
Think of the possibilities. One or more of these inhabitants is running away from something. The average Joe wouldn’t think of doing this, but those without ties, without responsibility, without money or food wouldn’t think twice about it. When you’re running away – trying to hide – in a bad state emotionally, financially or spiritually – you need more than a cardboard box to survive.
There was a time in my life when the thought of living this way, was almost an actuality. Our world had caved in and there was nothing left. We’d lost our home, vehicles, bank accounts, income and we had nothing saved for retirement. During those dark years, we imagined living in the streets or riding the rails, or whatever homeless people do. We were ready though. Our lives of putting our faith in God’s direction is what kept us afloat.
As we left bankruptcy court with only a few dollars in our pocket, we knew that He had a plan for us. He provided an “angel” who sold us a house on a land contract, so we didn’t have to go through a credit report to achieve home ownership. We also had a number of good friends who prayed for us and provided encouragement.
My long time as a volunteer drama coach led to a job teaching children – working with a children’s theater and eventually starting my own children’s theater. My husband began wood sculpting for many other “angels” and that led to the start of his fine arts business.
There are times when we feel hopeless and helpless. Those are usually the moments we turn to God. When things are going well, we tend to coast and take our blessings for granted. I believe that these tests are all part of God’s greater plan for us. Trusting in His unchanging love and His beautiful blueprint for our lives will allow us to get through the tough times – but don’t forget to praise Him when things are going well for you.
My legacy doesn’t matter. It isn’t important that I be remembered. It’s important that when I stand before the Lord, he says, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’ I want to finish strong.” James Dobson
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Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
God's amazing grace removes walls and replaces those barriers with Jesus, freedom from sin's consequences, freedom to forgive, and freedom to love unconditionally.
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