Poetry Friday: An Illustrated Poem for #writeout

Head over to Matt's blog, Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme,

for this week's round-up of poetic goodness.

 

This collection of images and words come from my almost daily walks. Fast walking is never my goal. Instead I savor slow walks with plenty of time to notice what's around me. I love these lines from Mary Oliver's poem, "Sometime":

“Instructions for living a life.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.” 

 

TREASURED STEPS

A walk outside is

 so much more than steps to be counted.

A red mushroom pops up,

delicate webs sway in the breeze,

white blossoms cascade,

lush green frames a weathered pedestrian bridge,

a lone goose honks from misty morning waters,

Jack Frost begins his autumnal tasks,

summer lingers in pink and yellow,

a circular snail shell appears on a bumpy sidewalk,

still blue water reflects morning clouds and sun.

 

Treasures freely delivered,

a daily dose of awe.

 

-Ramona Behnke

#writeout 2024

Slice of Life: Still a Superhero!

One of my favorite things to do as a Mom was to thunder downstairs singing the Batman theme song (Da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da) with the climactic words "Batman" replaced by "Supermom!" 

A recent text thread with my daughter indicates that while the nest is empty, my Supermom powers still reign supreme!

 

Can we borrow Eagle from moose & eagle for show & tell on Friday? It’s E

Yes!

He wants a shaky egg instead 

But from your house

We’re looking for it! Does he know where it is?

 He says with the diaper changing stuff?

 That’s the first place I looked. Then we went through the toy bins.

I went to bed disappointed that I couldn't find the shaky egg. Turns out that daughter's shaky eggs were all busted (no surprise there, three boys can be rough on plastic eggs). 

I woke up Friday morning thinking about the missing shaky egg and decided to check all the drawers. 

Bathroom drawers & cabinets, no luck! 

Chest of drawers, no luck! 

Middle desk drawer, no luck. 

Side desk drawer, BINGO! 

I knew I had seen it somewhere.

I sent this pic to daughter.

Grandson went to preschool with shaky EGG* for his E show-and-tell. 

While I may not thunder down the stairs anymore, it's clear that I can still come to the rescue!

 

*Shaky Eggs were introduced to us by our community troubadour (and dear friend), Nancy Stewart. This particular shaky egg was created more than seven years ago at a community baby shower. Miss Nancy has made it her mission to connect communities and families through music. During the pandemic, she did Bedtime Tune Times. Here's the one for Shaky Eggs!

SJT: Fall's Call

Leigh Anne Eck is hosting Spiritual Journey Thursday this month. 

She asked us to write about change and transformation.

I love fall! I love the feeling of new beginnings that arrives with September and back-to-school supplies. I love watching the leaves on the trees around me change color. I even love the trees when all the leaves are gone and we see their bare bones etched against gray, wintry days. I echo L.M. Mongomery's words from Anne of Green Gables: "I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers."

Grandson Robby started the tradition of snapping memory pics for me when we'd see a tree dressed in autumnal splendor, but couldn't stop to take a picture. It's a treasured tradition with us. We lived near a ravine in Seattle and we loved the windy days when we could watch leaves twirl and swirl to the bottom of the ravine. My daughter coined the word "leaf fall" for those dramatic days.

Yesterday, I found a huge leaf for grandson Ollie who's doing all things leafy this week at preschool. Today, I stood on the pedestrian bridge watching a lone yellow leaf dip and swirl until it landed, floating, on the blue lake. I second the words of Emily Bronte: "Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree."

As I thought about our theme of change and transformation provided by Leigh Anne, I went in search of a verse I recalled that spoke of transformation and found it in Romans 12:1-2 (KJV):

"1 I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service. 

 2 And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God."

I also like this version of these verses offered in The Message, Romans 12:1-2:

"So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you."

As I face this season of new beginnings and transformation, I want to fix my attention more earnestly on God. I want to recognize what he wants from me and respond to it. I want to let him bring out the best in me. I've begun with a renewed focus on reading scripture. This is a habit that I'm always working on, but mostly ends up being sporadic at best. I started small (at least one verse a day), I attached it to an already existing habit (when I make my bed, then I'll read scripture), and I'm trying to remember to affirm, celebrate, and check in with my accountability partner when I've done it.

I hope you feel renewed and refreshed by this time of year. The cooler weather helps, but I know some of you don't have it yet. I lived in Houston for 11 years and I well remember sweating through October birthday parties (both my children have October birthdays). Perhaps you'll want to join me in focusing on habit formation. I like this quote from Ruth Ahmed: "There is something so special in the early leaves drifting from the trees–as if we are all to be allowed a chance to peel, to refresh, to start again." 

Two favorite pics of fall color: 

WA

NC

Poetry Friday: Three Haiku (+ some pics) Reveal a Utah Trip

A grand adventure

picnics outside, stories read, bread baked,

 moments to treasure.

 

Friends gather, sharing

faith, food, laughter, challenges.

Cherished connections.

A backyard surprise

to share with family and friends

sweet, juicy peaches.

 

 

- Ramona Behnke

 

 

 

 Join us at the poetry playground for Poetry Friday, 

hosted today by Linda Baie at Teacher Dance.

SJT: Wholehearted!

 

Ruth Ayres is hosting our Spiritual Journey Thursday posts this month. She asked us to write about wholehearted, her word of the year for 2024. 

When I served in Hong Kong as a missionary, one of the Chinese cultural traits we learned was that one always gave and received gifts with both hands. Somehow I connected this tradition with having an undivided heart (a heart that is whole). When I looked online, I didn't find anything to support my supposition. One of the reasons I found on the internet for giving with both hands was to show that one did not have a weapon. Personally, I prefer my own idea that giving gifts with two hands represents wholeheartedness.

Being wholehearted in our spiritual lives requires that we love God and love our neighbors. Mark reminds us of the first great commandment to love the Lord with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength. And follows up with the second great commandment to love our neighbors as ourselves. (Mark 12:30-31) 

I'm borrowing some ideas from a recent address, "The Crux of the Cross" delivered by Jared Halverson at the Restore conference that I attended recently. It's one of those addresses that I want to reread and ponder. At this point, all I have are my notes trying to catch the gist of what he was saying, but often losing my way as I captured  half of his thoughts while he moved on to the next idea.

Being wholehearted requires that we learn to live in the contraries of our lives, that we are seeking both truth and harmony, a destination (heaven) and an approach (peacemaking). Taking up my cross daily to follow Christ requires me to bear the beams of love by engaging in communities where I practice loving all my fellowmen. 

"Teach me your way, O LORD, that I may rely on your faithfulness; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name." Psalm 86:11, NIV  

I look forward to reading the comments of fellow Spiritual Journey travelers regarding wholehearted, Ruth's word for this year. Our Spiritual Journey Thursday community is an open group. All are welcome!  Join us in sharing your thoughts on the theme for a given month.

Slice of Life: Someone's in the Kitchen with Grandma!

A "grand" tradition

 

 

eager kitchen assistants

batter-licking joy

Poetry Friday: Ode to Aging Bodies

My intent was to find a back-to-school poem. We have three grands in school now, a little sister in pre-K and two littles eager to start preschool next week. I'm not sure how we arrived here. Times flies! Anyway, when I opened poets.org, a poem found me. And I guess it fits in the back-to-school theme. If my six grands are growing up, then I must be aging.

You can read  "Ode to Aging Bodies" here.

I enjoyed this bit of background provided by the poet, Jan Mandell:

“I drafted this poem in a writers’ workshop four years ago shortly after turning seventy. I had just lost my husband, was diagnosed with osteoporosis, had a hip replacement, and then, defiantly, I climbed down and up the Grand Canyon. This is an ode to honor aging bodies rather than to mourn them.”

Here are the final lines, a call to wake up daily, jubilant in our aging bodies:

"Calling to every aging body
to rise up
And do it all again"

 

 Join us at the poetry playground for Poetry Friday, 

hosted today by Susan at Chicken Spaghetti.

Poetry Friday: Wonders While Walking

 Wonders While Walking

 

Snakeskin abandoned

I wonder, where is the snake?

Far away, I hope.

 

I spy . . .  a houseboat?

Fellow walker corrects me

It's a party shack!

 

Morning walk's treasure

a heart leaf discovery

as love flutters down

 

- Ramona Behnke

Rose Cappelli at Imagine the Possibilities is hosting 

this week's round-up of poetic goodness.

Poetry Friday: Another Mushroom Haiku

 surprising mushroom

interrupts my earnest steps

flower wannabe

 

 

 

the older I get

the slower I walk

the more I notice

 

 Janice Scully at Salt City Verse is hosting our Poetry Friday gathering.  

Stop by to savor more poetic goodness!

Slice of Life: Small Noticings on a Morning Walk

 

 Abundant moisture

debuts new walking partners

mushroom pop ups

Spiritual Journey Thursday: Pause to Reflect

Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Link, invites us to pause to reflect, to cultivate a slowdown spirit for our August Spiritual Journey posts.

Thursday night I sat down to put together a few thoughts for this post, only to discover that we had no internet. I planned to share some words from a July Reflection Questions email by Emily P. Freeman. And a day later, I still want to share them.

"Rather than rushing right into August carrying the exact same load, here is a moment at the end of the month for you and for me to look back before moving forward.

 

This takes courage, to be sure. Depending on the month you've had, looking back may feel intimidating, scary, or even a little annoying. But the skill (yes, you can learn it!) of reflection is an important one. It requires courage, compassion, and the ability to observe something without trying to judge, grade, or fix it."

 

And when I read her words, I was drawn to that last sentence about the skill of reflection.

"It requires courage, compassion, and the ability to observe something without trying to judge, grade, or fix it." And therein is the reason I often resist reflecting. You see, I have not cultivated this ability to observe without trying to judge, grade, or fix.

 

Today I had a string of unlucky/lucky events. After watching the grands this morning, I headed to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription for my husband who has Covid (unlucky). They didn't have the medicine (unlucky) and told me the closest pharmacy with the medicine was 25 minutes away (unlucky again). They also shared that this pharmacy was closing for lunch break in 30 minutes (unlucky once again). 

 

I immediately headed there and managed to snag the prescription before the lunch break with two minutes to spare (lucky). I pulled away from the drive through window and noticed that a library I had been wanting to visit was across the street (lucky). So I popped in and managed to snag Kate Bowler's latest book, Have a Beautiful, Terrible Day (lucky). I continued my lucky streak by discovering Chapter 23, a blessing for a good pause.

 

"This is the moment. I can feel it.

It is the microsecond pause . . . 

 

This is the sacred space of the nothing-yet,

a place where I can become aware

that you are pulling at me, tugging at me.

Be present with me here,

in these whirring seconds,

at the tiny crossroads that is this moment,

slowing me long enough to wonder:

Is that you tapping me on the shoulder?

 

All right. I'm listening." 

(Kate Bowler, Have a Beautiful, Terrible Day)

 

Each chapter begins with a scripture or quote, followed by a few introductory paragraphs, a poem, and a reflection prompt. 

 

May we have more microsecond pauses, that leave us wondering, "Is that you tapping me on the shoulder?" And may we be led to answer, "All right. I'm listening." 

I like to think of today's lucky moments as times of wonder. I'm grateful for the crossroads and pauses that led me to recognize goodness in a busy, harried day.

SJT and Poetry Friday: Help for Our "I Don't Know" Moments

Ruth at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town offered us the theme of "I don't know" for our Spiritual Journey post in July.

I had a moment of "I don't know" what just happened as I left the grocery store today. I was pushing my cart across the parking lot to my car when suddenly the cart quit moving. I was sure that I had just hit a low space or picked up something that jammed the wheel in the parking lot. No, that wasn't it. 

Another driver rolled down her window and told me that the wheels had locked because I was taking it out of the grocery store lot. I had parked across from a nearby restaurant because it was closer to the store than the back of the store lot. The problem was real, the locked wheels did not allow me to move forward or backward. I was stuck in the middle of a lane of oncoming traffic. 

Another customer came over and offered to help get the cart back to the store. I grabbed my groceries, thanked him for getting me out of this pickle, and continued to my car.

I was grateful for both of the individuals who advised me in my "I don't know" how to proceed, "I'm stuck" moment. I like to think that there will be friends and loved ones and angels and Jesus who may come to our rescue in our "I don't know" moments. They won't always have answers, but we can feel their comforting presence and perhaps receive useful guidance.

When my aunt died, my mother talked about the absolute recognition on her sister's face that there were other beings present. I wasn't there, but loved hearing my mom tell of this experience.  When my mother died, I wanted to be there, to feel, to have a knowing experience that would stand for me as a reality of life beyond this one. 

I was privileged to be there, but we did not have an experience like my mother had with her sister. Instead, we quietly sang hymns, encircling Mom in our love, gently massaging her face as her breathing slowed, and she left this life, and entered another. It wasn't the strong recognition of my mother's experience, but instead it was a comforting feeling that I was on holy ground and that I had participated in a sacred experience. 

I recently read these lines from Hannah Fries poem, "Let the Last Thing Be Song," which reminded me of this experience of singing to my mother as she left this life and entered another:

". . 

iv 

When I die, I want to be sung across the threshold.
Don’t you? Doesn’t the universe,
with its loosening warp
and weft, still
unspool its symphony?

Sing to me — please —
and I will sing for you as all unravels,
as time continues past the final beat
of the stutter inside your chest.

. . . "

You can listen to the entire poem read by the poet with her young son improvising on the piano at the marginalian.

Robyn Hood Black is hosting Poetry Friday at Life on the Deckle Edge. Come join the fun!

Poetry Friday: An Illustrated Haiku

I am slowly building up my walking stamina by adding a few more steps each day. This week, I reached the bridge and crossed the lake.

 

 lake mirrors June blue

 white blossoms reflect beauty

morning walk speaks peace

 

-Ramona Behnke 

Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference is hosting our Roundup this week. 

Come join the fun!