On Growing Old (Or Not)


Recently, a fellow blogger spoke about growing older and remembering things past. It reminded me of a poem I posted in 2014 along the same lines. Here is “The Me I Used to Be”. Thank you, Butch, for the reminder that we can live in both worlds…young and old. Actually, scriptures speaks of this also…”Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.”( 2 Corinthians 4:16)

THE ME I USED TO BE

I miss the me I used to be,

the things I used to do,

I miss the energy and verve,

the vim and vigor too.

I miss the way my feet could dance,

the way my body bent,

contorted to the Limbo

(under the pole I went).

I miss the feel of garden soil

where once my hands would dig

while scrunching down to plant the seeds

before my joints got big.

Yes, I miss the me I used to be

and all the things I did,

but even though the body’s old,

inside I’m still a kid.

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Let the Porter Take Your Baggage


While talking to a friend yesterday, we touched on the subject of the excess baggage many of us carry through life and how God is our heavenly porter. It prompted today’s post:

How many of us have journeyed through life carrying more baggage than we should?

Everything we need for life can be carried in a carry-on case…wisdom, love, caring, common sense, trust, forgiveness, compassion, helpfulness, and more.

But we are loaded down with bad memories, guilt, revenge, unforgiveness, self-centredness, and other things that weigh a ton and cause life to be a heavy burden rather than the learning experience it is meant to be.

Weights can be good for fitness and toning when used in moderation but when dragged through life in the form of overweight baggage, they can wear us down rather than build us up.

When life becomes overloaded with the weights that drag you down, do yourself a favor…let The Porter take your baggage.

Pick and Choose


This is about memories and how we pick and choose them.  I choose to think of the good things in life worth remembering, whether it was in childhood, teen years, young adult, and even advancing years.

Remembering childhood, there were not so many good memories but they can be ferreted out and cherished for what they are, leaving the not-so-good to remain unbidden.

Teen and young adult years again bring a mix of good and not so good memories but the good far outweigh the latter.

What I am getting at here is we all have memories of many kinds and it is up to us to pick and choose the ones that add to today’s happiness….and the ones that don’t…well it is best to let them go unless they have some merit in our lives today.

The lesson to be learned is that everything we have ever endured whether good or bad has been to enhance our progress through life. If we choose to focus on the unpleasant memories then, of course, they could impact our lives in a way that could be detrimental to today’s happiness.

If we choose to pick the pleasant memories to focus on, then today’s happiness quotient goes up a notch or two.

To me, it is most obvious that anything pleasant is good for the soul, and anything that stirs up angst is best left forgotten…unless it can be used therapeutically. It’s up to us to pick and choose.

 

 

 

 

Let’s Play Pretends


One of my earliest childhood memories is playing a game called Let’s Play Pretends. You could be anything or anyone you wanted to be and were never questioned about it; from princesses to movie stars to singers and dancers and acrobats. Pretending was such fun.

On a mini vacation a few weeks ago with some friends, I found myself behind the pulpit in a very old Presbyterian church in New Glasgow, Ontario. I was pretending to be a preacher. (Call it my second childhood…after all I am eighty-one!) It was a beautiful church with lots of character and for fun I had this picture taken.

I didn’t have a sermon ready and just as well or my friends would have left me there talking to myself, I’m sure.

It goes to show that our imagination can stay with us as long as we are willing to entertain it in games like “Let’s Play Pretends”. Here’s the sermon I would have preached. Happy Sunday.

He replied, “Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” Matthew 17:20

 

 

 

 

Remembering a Guide Dog


Here is another lovely poem by my sister about one of the guide dogs she trained and sent out into the world to help the blind.

Sam, a Guide Dog

I walked beside you one last time

though you didn’t know that it was I

along a path of autumn gold

beneath a brilliant azure sky.

Another walks beside you now

The one that you were chose to guide

I watched as you strolled along

Older now and still so wise

Memories came and in my mind

I saw you as the pup I raised

Happy, leaping, full of fun

You were the easiest to train

Years have past and here we meet

Quite accidentally and to my surprise

Even though I smile with pride

I feel the tears in my eyes

Time cannot erase love that’s shared

And even though we had to part

And you belong to someone else

Still you live within my heart 

©Mary Frances Martin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To Not Have a Memory


My sister, Mary, and I grew up without our father in our lives. We have both lived eighty years, more or less, (I, more…she, less) and still the memory of what we missed haunts each of us. Mary recently put her sorrow into a poignant poem, and with her permission I’m sharing it here.

Lucky Lady

She smiles across the table

Over a cup of tea

Into eyes that have smiled

Back eternally

Does she know how blessed she is

To have her father there

To feel the soft caress

Of his hand upon her hair

I never knew my father

Never had the chance

To sit upon his lap

Feel his arms around me in a dance

Her father’s hair is silver

His hand trembles on his cup

She reaches out to help him

His smiling eyes light up

I close my eyes in sorrow

To have missed so much

To not have a memory

Of my fathers touch

 

©Mary Frances Martin

 

To those who have lost their fathers either by death or separation, we feel your pain and pray that you have at least your fondest memories. Unlike my sister, I have vague memories of our father before he left our lives…not by death but by separation, and I treasure the little I have.

God Took Her Soul


She was stunningly beautiful with a healthy body, luxurious hair, a quick smile, and gentle, friendly manner. She worked where I did in 2005 and was always a pleasure to be around.

Then, in 2008, cancer struck. As it so often does, it played havoc with her life. A bony body, hairless head, and quietude were the new norm. It was almost as hard on those of us who worked with her as it was on her family to see this dramatic change in such a short time.

And then she died…at the tender age of fifty years. This vibrant, vivacious young woman was no longer with us. Her bright smile and happy face were now only a memory…a haunting, lovely memory.

My only consolation was that though cancer took her beautiful hair and body, God took her soul.