LIFE GOES ON UNTIL WE DIE . . .

It’s obvious in this painting that the mountain lion is in search of his lunch. The chase is on. We, like the creatures of this earth, will eventually face death. It’s a fact of life. We run through this life filled with all kinds of emotions, but the most fearful thing can be the thought of dying. When we die, life on this earth is over. Or is it?

Jesus promised that He had come to save His people from death. Because of His perfect life, death and resurrection, we are assured of eternal life in heaven. Life doesn’t end when we die. It just gets better. Heaven is awaiting everyone who believes that Jesus was sent from Heaven to take our place in a world He wasn’t from. His love is way beyond our comprehension and that’s where faith comes in. The Holy Spirit has entered into our souls upon our baptism, allowing us to trust in Him completely. All we have to do is believe.

A hiding place where no one knows or sees or hears the truth,

A place where you can tuck away the trespasses of youth,

When hearts submit to God’s sweet call to come and be with Him,

Those sins will soon be washed away, and we can dwell within,

For God is our true shelter, He loves us as we are,

When hidden in His sacrifice, we won’t stray very far,

Our sins have been forgiven. Our path has been made clear,

The Lord of Heaven saved us, with His own Son, most dear.

Don’t try to hide from Jesus, He’ll never let you go,

He loves and understands you, He dwelt with men you know,

He knows our every problem, He feels our every pain,

But through His sweet compassion, His loss was for our gain.

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A DAY IN PARADISE . . .

ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER

The image above was the backdrop for a musical play about Esther from the Bible, called, “Such a Time as This.” I know it looks like another beautiful painting of Paul’s and it is. This masterpiece was created for the backdrop of the palace of the Babylonian king of Persia. It eventually would be painted over for another play. It seems sad to me that this was the case, but it didn’t seem to bother Paul. He said, maybe someday they would X-ray some of his works and find fifteen other paintings under the latest rendition. Thankfully we took pictures of these amazing sets.

The following poetry was done to illustrate what it will be like to be in the presence of God when we go to heaven. Hope you all have a wonderful Memorial Day Weekend. Stay safe!

To waken in the morning mist, amidst God’s vast creation,

To see the glory of His might and taste of His salvation,

To walk in valleys lush and green, to lift your eyes to heaven,

To bathe in waters fresh and clean, each sense it does enliven,

The mountain streams enfolded with his strength and might amazing,

The sun shines through the clouds so high with pleasant beams a blazing,

To pray in God’s great majesty within the beauty there,

Will take each breath you breathe away and wash away each care,

So, lift your voice and praise Him, lay your troubles at His feet,

Someday you’ll see Him face to face and He will rush to greet,

He’ll say, “Well done, my dearest child, now welcome to your home,

You’re safe with me from all the grief that you have ever known.

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THE MANY FACES OF ME . . .

Today is throwback Thursday, so I thought I’d throw a few pictures of Moi, to show you what a ham I am. Obviously, I’m not afraid to get up in front of an audience. That is as long as I’m not actually myself. I love to hear the laughter of the crowd. I feel as though I’ve completed my mission. However, when I get on stage to present a speech it’s altogether a different story. Maybe it has to do with my use of theatre all these years, to cover up the real me.

I wonder how God sees me. Of course, He knows me inside and out and can see all the flaws along with the talents He’s given me. So, none of those false facades are going to mean much to Him. He knows every detail of every sin I’ve committed, but nothing I can do is going to erase those sins. This whole thing about Jesus taking my place, by suffering and dying on a cross could seem pretty odd to most folks. He died for you and me. Well, that death wouldn’t have made much difference, had Jesus not risen from death – overcoming it, the devil and the evil of this world.

His resurrection is the key to the promise of eternity in Heaven with Him and all those who have entered there. There’s no hiding behind a mask. We won’t need to. Jesus is the Redeemer of our souls. He alone gives us the confidence to push through this life with hope.

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ALONG A COUNTRY ROAD . . .

This painting almost reveals a lone pheasant hiding in the tall grass. The typical farmstead displays a staunch old barn, with chicken coops behind it. Paul often hid little surprises in his artwork. Being an avid outdoorsman, he knew just where those surprises would hide. The weekly road trips we took through what was left of those magnificent old buildings dwindled in the last few months of his life. Many had been abandoned or in disrepair. Some had been sold as a last resort for those who no longer wanted to continue the family business. It’s sad to see little boxes of new homes taking their place.

Life goes on. We use up the good things and replace them with things that have no real character in them. That even happens to those of us in the later years of living. The facade has changed drastically. The body can no longer manage by itself. Do we ignore the elderly? Do we tear them down like the broken buidings that have lost their worth? Do we honor them as God has commanded or rely on someone else to watch over them until they take their final breath?

ORIGINAL ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©

Morning sheds its whimsical glow upon an old country road,

Sunlight flits in and out of the foliage,

Creating patterns on the cobblestoned path,

Wind gently caresses the trees,

Kissing each leaf as it whispers through,

Dreams are made along such paths,

Lives are changed,

Senses enlivened,

If only we allow them to happen,

Along a country road.

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WHAT ARE YOU WORTH

When we grow old, some of our self-worth diminishes right along with our ability to get up each day. Somewhere during middle age we become so busy  taking care of our family and building a life, we tend to forget about our own worth.   By the time we’re in the last stages of life we tend to lose faith in our abilities.

Life can be overwhelming when you’re going from one stage to the next. The same is true for us seniors as we see our lives melting away, our strength being sapped and our dependence on others growing. Heaven looks pretty good to most of us. I guess even kids who grow up in Christian families with strong Christian values sometimes find this world a tough place to understand. The emphasis placed on Heaven can make the thought of being there even more enticing.

The devil wants us to believe that we’re worthless – that either we aren’t capable of a good life or we’ve worn out our usefulness. He also wants us to believe that death is the only answer and if we end our lives, we’ll have eternal bliss. This is one of Satan’s biggest lies. God is the only One who can provide us with heaven.

Our lives have purpose no matter what our age. Young and old alike still have a lot to do. We need to work together to accomplish our goals. The young can bring enthusiasm to their elders – they can help them with the physical things they can’t do anymore. The elderly can give back some of their knowledge and wisdom though mentoring – they can advise on career paths – they can encourage their younger counterparts by helping them realize their potential and worth.  They have time to listen and counsel. I think that’s key to overcoming the generation gap.

When you feel you no longer have a purpose in this life, look to the One who treasures you beyond measure.  Put your faith in Him – not in yourself – not in the ways of this world. If you take life’s journey with God as your partner, He will give you a life with abundant joy. What is to come in heaven is the ultimate bonus – not an excuse for us to walk away from what God has planned for us.  He loves us so much that He made the ultimate sacrifice so that we would never die, but have eternal life.

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ALL ALONE . . .

Nestled in the protection of her surroundings, this lonely egret stands – by herself wondering. She may have lost track of her mate. Perhaps she needs time to herself. Maybe she is seeking direction from her Creator. As I think of my own situation, I tend to feel much like her. My mate is no longer available for advice, for a tender touch, for laughter and a pat on the back. There are times when I need the quiet of solitude, to remember when he was part of this world. To look at his art and see him in every brush stroke. To imagine he’s still here and that all of this is just a dream. At that point I know that in order to move forward, I must seek direction from the One who never leaves. He will always be with me, even after I take my last breath on this mortal coil.

ART & POETRY BY PAUL T. & KATHY BOECHER©

We often seek to hide from God – our sins are much too great,

We tremble at the thought of Him, but He will simply wait,

Until the darkness is too much for us to comprehend,

We’re in so deep, our broken hearts think they will never mend,

But He provides a way for us, His hand is in all things,

He lifts us with His might and strength, Salvation to us brings,

When time for us runs out we think our sins will be revealed,

For all the world to know about, we think our fate is sealed,

But God has different plans for us.  His love will last forever,

He sent his Son to pay the price.  It was His chief endeavor,

He’s with us every moment.  We cannot hide from Him,

How great His love and mercy, our very souls did win,

He washed us clean from all our sin, the victory now is won,

We never have to hide again; His work has just begun.

So, turn your heart to Jesus.  Delight in His great love,

For us He’s granted pardon.  Our home waits up above.

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CRUISING DOWN THE RIVER . . .

ART & POETRY BY PAUL AND KATHY BOECHER

This painting reminds me of the tales from Mark Twain. You can almost see Huckelberry and Tom floating on a raft beside this huge paddle boat, slowly moving down the river on a hot summer day.

The tepid waters of summer tumble over the rungs of the paddle wheel.

The water makes a big splash as it embraces each of those slats.

Synchronized into a rhythm that reaches the soul.

A sky of clear blue acts as the perfect canopy.

A few clouds puff into giant cotton balls.

Summer has arrived on the mighty Mississippi.

The vessel creates enormous ripples, pushing away from the craft.

Sounds include the croaking chorus of frogs, various river birds, the gentle breeze as it blows across your face.

The intoxicating aroma of dead fish, fermented seaweed and steam reaches your nostrils.

Your eyes spot an eagle circling on high, waiting to swoop down, using his large talons to catch his lunch.

All the senses come to life as you continue to slowly push through the muddy water.

It won’t last for long. The days will soon grow shorter again. The sun is slowly dipping into the western sky.

Breathe it in. Feel it. Touch it. Listen to it. See it and taste the beauty for just a little while. It won’t last forever. Only heaven will.

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ONE RINGY DINGY DINGY . . .

THE PHONE IN THIS IMAGE IS ON THE WALL IN MY LAUNDRY ROOM.

How would you like to carry this thing around in your pocket. You might need a bigger pocket, not to mention you will only be able to make or accept phone calls on it. It isn’t multi-purposed like the phones of today. Today you have a million choices for various apps to add to your phone. You can set dates on a calendar to remind you of appointments. You can choose an app that shows you what kind of plants you have growing in your garden and what is simply a weed. You can discover the value of some vintage items you have around your house. Those are great conveniences, but they also use up some of your valuable time.

You can do so much on the newfangled phones of today, but there are some downsides to this instrument of communication. If you don’t want to communicate with someone, you don’t have to answer their emails. You can spend hours looking at the screen which also eats up time you could be spending outdoors, finishing a project, or simply enjoying the things that make you look beyond photos. You can fall into some dark rabbit holes. Many sites are available for things that tempt, that rouse your desires, that reveal more than you want to see. For the most part these phones can be a great convenience in researching something, but they can also stack up millions of minutes of screen time.

So, I’ve tried to include some of the good, bad and ugly of these devices. Did you realize the old-fashioned phone in my photo had a downside or two of its own? For one thing, if you lived in a rural area, you most likely had a party line, which included one or more other customers in your same location. You would know the call was for you, depending on the number of rings. If you picked up the phone when it was ringing for someone else, you would be privy to their conversation. A lot of false information would be gathered from those overheard conversations and could easily become fodder for gossip. You had to crank the phone to get the attention of the switchboard operator. It too, took a lot of valuable time away from the consumer. The good side of this device was mainly based on emergency situations or just having a means to communicate with friends and neighbors.

The phone has gone through a lot of changes even in my 83 years of living. Change for the better? I’m all for progress, but nothing beats sitting at a table and talking with someone face to face. You can read a person’s body language when you can see them. Even on FaceTime, each participant is on their best behavior, so you don’t really see what they’re thinking.

It makes me wonder what people did before the invention of the telephone. They wrote things down in journals. They read incessantly. They played board games. They went outside and enjoyed the peace and quiet of a lovely day. They had meals together as a family. They talked to one another. The visited museums, libraries, historical sites, entertainment venues. They talked about those trips when they got home. They also created some wonderful memories through them.

I am not complaining about the phones of today. In fact, they are very helpful to the senior community. We can call if we have an emergency. We can text to get an immediate response. We can write a blog. We can send emails when our handwriting has grown indecipherable. We can keep in close touch with those who live a long way from us. I kind of miss the old party lines, not because I enjoyed spreading gossip, but because a lot of interesting stories were added to my collection of future stories.

The speed of communications is wondrous to behold. It is also true that speed can multiply the distribution of information that we know to be untrue.”

Edward R. Murrow

Pardon me now as I try to write a ten page text message. It’s hard not to when you’re a writer.

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SQUIRRELY TALES . . . FLAT STANLY

She’s right, you know. I have a very scientific mind. It gets me into all kinds of trouble with the rest of the squirrels, but eventually they realize I’m right about most things. The fact that I flaunt my knowledge gives them a reason to pick on me from time to time. I’m getting used to it though.

When I was a baby squirrel, some of them referred to me as Flat Stanly, because I loved to splay my legs and lay flat on the ground. They said I was weird, but even at that very young age I knew doing this would keep me cool on the hottest days of summer. My mother took offense, but like I said, I’m a very intelligent squirrel. Did you know that baby squirrels are called kittens? Sometimes they’re referred to as kits or pups. I’d say that’s a lot weirder than Flat Stanly, but I’m OK with it. Mother always told me that the name Stanly is very complimentary. It means “Stony clearing.” The thought of splooting gives my name special meaning. Actually “splooting” is precisely what they call it when a squirrel spreads it’s legs and lays his belly close to the cool stones or grass when its overheated.

Those bullies won’t listen to me. They will regret it someday when the sun is fiercely beating down on them one steamy summer afternoon. They run around like chickens with their heads cut off and get even hotter. Not me! I may be a nerd, but you can’t beat natural air conditioning.

“People look at me like I’m a little strange, when I go around talking to squirrels and rabbits and stuff. That’s ok. That’s just ok.”

Bob Ross

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REFRESHING RAIN . . .

At last, we finally received a nice dousing this morning. Just in time too. I just weeded an area around Paul’s sculpture of “Surrender,” and planted a few plants at the base. Clearing out space for a new garden can be a literal pain in the back. I’ve tried a number of different gardening seats, stools and kneelers over the years. Lately I’ve reverted to an older storage bin with the cover on. It seems to be just the right size for my short legs. I had one of those short rolling seats but kept falling off the thing when I rolled it and had a Dickens of a time getting back up. The kneelers are out of the question because I no longer possess the knees of a 16-year-old.

One of the best things about slowly going through a section at a time is that you find all kinds of surprises. As I gently pulled long roots of weeds I came across a few lilac bushes. There are about four of them in the beginning stages of life. I lost a lot of these fragrant bushes when they installed the humongous sound barrier behind our house. I was so excited to see these baby lilacs pushing their little heads out of the ground. If I had been in a hurry or using a speedier method of eliminating the weeds, I would have taken these out as well.

Gardening for the geriatric population is not only a rewarding hobby, but you can work at your own pace. We’ve had some sweltering heat in May this year. So a little rain is a refreshment to the plants as well as the planters. I finally realize what it means to slow down and smell the roses.

ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©

Refreshing, cleansing rain falls softly on an eager earth,

Thirsting for relief, longing for renewal and rebirth.

The tears of God bring respite for the dying soul,

He gave His only Son to fill a gaping hole,

The hole that widens every day,

When we forget to look up and pray,

As branches dance and lightening fills the air,

I think of Him who never fails to care.

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RESTORED MAN . . .

ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER

The title of this wood sculpture is “SURRENDER.” Paul carved this with hammer and chisel several years ago for a religious art show in Northeast Minneapolis. From there, it stood in his warehouse studio after which it was relegated to stand in two local churches. Eventually it wound up in our backyard. With years of standing in the garden, weathering the elements and stirred people’s imaginations, it finally was in need of restoration. My son-in-law has become quite talented working with wood, so he undertook the job of bringing new life into something old. Yesterday he delivered it to our backyard. It looks like new and will be good for another few years.

The sculpture depicts a man who is in need of restoration too. Paul shows the face of the man downtrodden and depressed, with his oversized hands reaching out to God for help to his desperate condition.

When you think about it, this sculpture might give the suggestion that the Father is looking down and the first thing He sees are these huge hands, begging for mercy. Like we must appear to our children when they reach out to us. Why do we wait until the burden becomes so heavy that we no longer can carry it? It would be so much easier to just surrender to God’s will. Not that we’re giving up. We’re actually doing what Christ commanded His followers to do.

Lord, when I come to you in prayer,

I know that you will be right there.

To comfort me and heal my pain,

To bring me back to life again.

My hands I lift to you each day.

You hear the prayers that I pray.

I know that you will answer me.

Your strength alone will set me free.

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DANCE LIKE A CHICKEN DAY . . .

Today is Dance Like a Chicken Day. The chicken dance has been around for 70 years. It was introduced by Swiss accordionist, Werner Thomas. After editing it a few times, it morphed into the melody we know today. The moves are said to be so easy, even a child can learn it in just a few minutes. As for us Oldies, but
Goodies, that doesn’t often hold true.

I remember a time when I could twist to the music of Chubby Checker. I could do just about every fast dance known at the time. Today, I can barely get up onto the dance floor, much less move on it. As we age, we soon learn that our bodies are incapable of multi-tasking. The used-to-be pliable muscles don’t want to move in such a fashion, not to mention the hand eye coordination and memory issues.

I must admit, my physical limitations aren’t the only things that deter me from participating in this silly dance. Can you imagine a chicken dancing? I know prairie chickens have a ritual dance that they do when they’re mating which is quite a sight to behold. My only recollection is when my farmer grandma killed a chicken by chopping off its head. That chicken did quite a dance before kicking the bucket.

So, how does one celebrate this funny display on the dance floor? Try to find a restaurant that has an accordion player and request it be played. You can try, even if you’re wheelchair or walker bound. The idea that life ends when we can no longer dance is just a myth. Just look for a different way of doing it.

HAPPY CHICKEN DANCE DAY!

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SPRING CLEANUP . . .

ART & INSPIRATION BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER

Garage Sale signs are popping up all over the place. Some folks use this time of year to declutter and get rid of things so they can go to some of those sales and pick up more clutter to reclutter their homes. In the past eight years, we have gone through the resizing of our living space before we moved to a different home. We’ve since had to reorganize our upstairs because we didn’t use it anymore. It became a storage locker for some of our belongings. After Paul’s death, my children reopened the upstairs for my grandson to move in. Rearranging – reopening – reorganizing – resizing – restoring – etc, etc, etc. Life goes on and we seem to do the same things over and over.

Much like our own lives, we are always in a state of change, no matter what age we are. There are things that need to be tossed because they are no longer useful. Things that we haven’t worn for years now become part of a donation bin. Stuff that has value only to us is the hardest to let go, but there comes a point where we must.

“Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.” Luke 6:37-38 ESV

We will undoubtedly be getting rid of more stuff as the days go forward. Our hope is not reliant on things of this world. Jesus was not of this world. Taking on human flesh, He experienced all the concerns we have each day, but He never gave way to sin. He alone is our only hope for salvation. In Christ alone!

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TURNING BAD INTO GOOD . . .

ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER

It was a few years ago. I’d had a bad day. So bad, that my husband suggested a long drive so I could clear my head and turn the bad into good. I think this was close to the beginning of our precious road trips. We hopped (embellished) into the car and began a long drive to a specific pie shop in Stockholm, WI. It was a favorite spot to visit in the past. We quickly escaped the sounds and sights of Minneapolis and St. Paul and began our entrance into the hills and valleys of Wisconsin. Some of the historic towns along the way called out for us to stop, but we had our sights set on a slice of freshly homemade pie. The scenery was breathtaking.

As the ride continued, I could feel the stress of the day melt from within me. My attitude had changed considerably. I could feel God’s creation wrapping around me and erasing anything that had before made my day miserable. We approached the quaint little town. There is nothing like nature to get you back on track. The town seemed empty, compared to past visits. We arrived at the pie shop and discovered that it was closed. I could’ve turned that moment into another rabbit hole to fall into, but by then it didn’t matter. The frustrations of the early part of that day had vanished into a refreshing outing.

As I get into the car today, I feel alone. My life partner is no longer in the seat beside me – encouraging and lifting me out of a dark pit. Life has changed for me and all those of you who have lost a loved one. Grief is hard. It’s a process that goes on forever, but each day becomes a little easier when you let it. Trusting in God’s promises is essential. He alone will walk beside you every minute of every day.

You’re no longer here beside me,

I miss you every day.

But our God is here to guide me,

And lead me through each day.

It’s hard for me to forget you,

You live within my heart.

In paradise I’ll join with you,

We’ll never be apart.

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HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY . . .

My mom grew up during the Great Depression. It was a time of much change in the country. Not only was a World War raging across the sea, but women were put to work in factories. Up until then, they were considered the help mate of the head of the house. But since so many young men had enlisted, this was young women’s way of sharing in the war effort.

To honor moms on just one day, seems inadequate. The profession of homemaker and mother kind of went out with the Brady Bunch and Father Knows Best, when perfectly dressed women went through the tasks that kept the home fires burning without compensation. Personally I think the stay-at-home moms fizzled out with the fight for women’s rights.

My own mother went to work in the professional world when her kids were in high school, giving my sister and me the tasks of developing our homemaking skills. Because of that training, we were able to manage a home and a job when the time came. She still had time to instill other values within us. She was the buffer between us and our dad. She answered questions he couldn’t answer. She stood up for us when he was unreasonable. She wasn’t a stranger to discipline however. I remember her chasing me around the house to spank me with a hairbrush. She finally caught me and with the first swat, the hairbrush broke. We both laughed over that.

She taught me that laughter was important to the soul. She didn’t leave out the fact that God was in charge of our lives. We were just on loan to her until we grew up. She was a lovely woman, always dressed to the nines, hair styled and eyebrows in place. She would get out of bed early so she could apply them. She loved everyone and found the best in even those who weren’t especially loveable.

When my father passed away at the age of 61, she was a widow. She was only 58. She remarried and moved with her new husband to Florida. He was considerably older than her, but he kept her busy with her new life. They traveled and took part in many activities offered to them. Eventually, age caught up with him and mom became his caregiver. When he passed, she began to take care of herself, which included doctoring for her own many maladies. That led to a dependence on pain killers and eventual addiction to the

My sister helped to sell her home and car. She paid to have all her belongings shipped to my home. I was glad to provide a place for her to live. The first few months were difficult as we weaned her off the meds, but after a year or so, she was capable of getting her own apartment and taking care of herself. She was almost the same age as I am now.

In thinking of my own situation right now, I have the greatest respect for this woman. She endowed me with her bright spirit, her compassion, her laughter, her love. I am especially grateful that she introduced me to my Savior at an early age

Words can’t convey my gratitude for those last years of her life. It was like going home.

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TODAY IS NATIONAL TRAIN DAY

ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER

Today is National Train Day and tomorrow is Mother’s Day, so I thought I’d combine my post to include both of them. In the olden days, when I was just a girl of 9 and my sister was only 5, we were placed on a train by our parents to visit our grandparents up north in Wisconsin. The fact that we traveled unchaperoned is still a mystery to me. In the modern world, it’s very unusual. Either my parents were very naive. Perhaps their trust level was way beyond the norm. Maybe they paid the conductor to make sure we got to our destination. Maybe they just wanted to get rid of us for the summer. I never asked.

Going to spend the summer with our maternal grandparents was something both my sister and I couldn’t wait for. We felt very sophisticated as we stepped onto that shiny locomotive. The conductor led us to our seats. Of course, I got the window seat because I had seniority. We both watched as the Milwaukee skyline disappeared into the distance, being replaced by magnificent dairy farms and animals grazing. I’ve often said that every child should experience life on the farm at one point or another. It was an extraordinary adventure for both of us.

Grandpa had taken a job with the electric company and turned the farming over to his sons, so he wasn’t home much, but Grandma instilled some lifetime lessons for the time we spent with her. She grew up as a pioneer woman. Her strength in adversity is still a trait I’m working on. She was like a second mother for a few months. My own mother inherited most of those same attributes, and I picked up the baton.

Those train rides were the best. I’ll never forget eating in the dining car. It probably was the start of my observing of people and how they talked, moved and interacted. The best and most important part was the destination at both ends of the ride.

Paul has painted several scenes with trains. In the two I’ve shared today, you can see so much detail. Train travel was the means of getting from place to place when I was growing up. When I took a train trip in my senior year of high school, I would fall in love with the man I married and spent a lifetime with.

HAPPY NATIONAL TRAIN DAY AND HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!

The train we boarded was an older model, but it had a club car and a dining car.

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Thank you Jesus for another week . . .

ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER

This little gem fell into my lap today. An original Paul Boecher watercolor presented to me eight years ago by the artist on my birthday. Paul almost always gifted me with art on special days. As I think about Mother’s Day coming soon, I thank God for the man who made me a mom. Each special occasion reminds me of him. I will love him forever.

I see your face within my dreams.

It never leaves my aching heart.

I hear you voice, at least it seems.

In quiet whispers you impart.

As time goes by I can’t erase?

The loss I feel from dawn ’til dark,

And then the tears run down my face.

The sobs then come to make their mark.

As days fly by I turn to God.

Knowing full well that He is there ,

To dry my tears, as on I trod.

He walks me home so we can share . . .

THE JOYOUS GIFT OF HEAVEN!

Posted in Art & Poetry by Paul & Kathy Boecher, death, Dreams, Uncategorized | 9 Comments

SQUIRELLY TALES – STUBBY

I’m switching gears today since it’s Friday. I’m using this day to post something different. Humor has always been part of my life. I also enjoy telling stories. So, I will begin with this chapter of Squirrel Tales. Stubby is one of my favorite squirrels to watch from my window. He’s the most recognizable because of his short tale. He’s also very funny.

It’s that time of year again. Spring has sprung, the grass is riz. I wonder where the flowers is. Oh, yeah, I know that’s an old one, but you have to give me credit for being educated. Listen, I know squirrels are kind of low on the skill set, but I actually did make it through one year of squirrel pre-school. My name is Stubby. There’s a reason for that. My tail is half the size it used to be. I won’t go into details, because the story is too traumatic even for me. Let’s just say I had an encounter with a snowplow and leave it at that. I used to be called, Woodsy Guy by the owners of the tree I live in. I felt like a very important squirrel because of it. Wouldn’t you?

That nice old couple who own that tree have been very diligent about keeping the bird feeders full to the brim, but lately they’ve been making our work a little harder. At first, it was a breeze making it up that pole leading to my breakfast. Then one day they added a cone to keep me from getting past that lay ahead. I made it as far as the cone with my superior climbing skills, but then it was curtains for me. Did you ever try climbing a cone? I mean it takes way more intelligence than you think. It wasn’t too long before I realized I was wearing the wrong shoes. I sped over to the nearby shoe store and stuffed my squirrely feet into a pair of climbing shoes with suction cups on them. After an interesting and slow walk back to my neighborhood tree, I finally made it to the waiting feast.

Humans can be very resourceful too. After beginning my ascent up the pole, I encountered a slippery slope. They greased the pole, making it impossible for me to climb. I must’ve given them a great source of entertainment as I gracefully slid from top to bottom in a flash. In fact, they even held up signs that had numbers on them, from zero to ten. The old woman always gave me a five for effort. The old man never went over zero. That fellow had no time for squirrels. At least those of us wearing special shoes.

My days have since changed and so has my diet. I no longer search for birdseed. I’ve moved up to collecting and storing nuts. Now if I could just remember where I put them.

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REFLECTIONS . . .

ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER

Another houseboat painting which shows the art of reflecting light. Paul was a master at finding the light. Many times he would photograph a site in order to capture the moment. Then he would continue to paint on the spot, sometimes referring to the photo, other times winging it. He had a beautiful mind and I trust that God is using Paul’s talents in heaven now.

When darkness fills my sleeping hours and fears surround each hour,

When good news turns to deep concern and makes my day grow sour.

When perils of each passing day invade my tear filled eyes,

I wonder if God hears my prayers or does he hear my cries?

Confusion rages in my thoughts,   I try to lift the load.

But it’s too heavy for these arms which now are turning old.

My mind is going up and down, like waves that fill the sea,

The turbulence is far too much for one like little me.

The world is throwing challenges from every single port,

The wars still rage and hate abounds we can’t begin to sort,

The answers seem to disappear, when they begin to form,

The shadows of a broken life leave nothing but a storm.

As hard as we may try to win, the struggles we must fight,

Trials cannot by us be won.  Our dreams soon take to flight.

And when it seems impossible, that’s when God shows His face,

He reaches out to calm our fears, He cuddles us with grace.

Instead it would be easier to let God take that role,

To trust in His unfailing love, for things we can’t control.

To turn them over to the Lord, and trust He’ll find a way,

To give us rest and confidence to live another day.

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BEACHED . . .

ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER

This sweet watercolor depicts some rugged old canoes sitting on the shoreline, waiting to get back in the water. Weather is always an issue in Minnesota. It can be the dreariest time of year, but when the waters open up and spring displays its beauty, those canoes will get another chance to prove themselves.

We are much like those anxious boats – waiting and waiting and dreaming of better days. Longing for peace. Desiring a change of pace, answers to problems that keep mounting up. Feeling somewhat useless or purposeless. The beauty of the changing seasons resembles our walk in life. Spring is like a second chance. We need to make the most of it because life is so short.

It’s hard to wait. The thought of waiting for heaven is similar as we grow into the winter of our years. Time is running out. Bodies are aging. Minds aren’t as sharp as they used to be. Even in those latter years God has a purpose and use for us here on earth. we continue to serve God. We get closer and closer to the finish line. Because of what Jesus did when He came to live with us, we know that what’s waiting for us on the other side of life is a perfect existence where our patience will be rewarded.

Cool, refreshing waters wash up on an empty, tranquil beach,

The final days of summer have washed over us and we are spent,

Our days pass so quickly as we grow old – or not at all,

Time escapes and ends up somewhere in infinity,

Still there is hope,

For those in their final years,

For the broken,

The crushed,

The weary,

The lonely,

There is a fresh beginning right around the corner,

New start,

New hopes,

New goals to reach,

New people to meet

New adventures to make,

New life,

Live it.

Posted in patience, seasons, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 5 Comments