rancherwriterpoet

Poetry, musings, reflections, life

Archive for the tag “God”

HONEY, I REMEMBERED!

Honey, I remembered!

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10, 11……….12

I remembered that I could count, at least to 12. I promise I did not use Google for any help. So, what do the numbers represent?

Year number one began on May 15, 2009 and was our Wedding day. That was a remarkable day. The first year was a honeymoon that lasted all year and into the next and continues today.

Numbers 1-11 represent the number of years that Jennifer and Pete have been married. Each year was complete and utterly successful. At least to my way of thinking. Each year has been a wonderful sequence of a marriage.

This woman I married has an amazing stamina. She is, of course, the queen of the chicken world. She certainly has the Chicken world of exhibition’s attention. Her office is covered in awards. I am extremely proud of her and her accomplishments. But that’s not why I married her.

She is a super gardener, vegetables in season, flowers in season, indoor plants, tropical and home managed. But, that’s not why I married her.

She is a great cook. She is in the gourmet chef style.She sometimes posts her achievements to the social media world and has them drooling. Cakes, pies, and of course delicacies from the food group. Chocolate being my favorite. But that’s not why I married her.

She has other talents, such as mowing the yard, attending to our retired show dogs, cutting limbs, and I dare not forget the geese. The geese are like her children. But that is a separate issue altogether.

We have our challenges and those continue. Most of our trials have come from health issues. We have faced numerous tests and treatments and she has risen to the occasion. She is a remarkable nurse; however, she has not had the perfect patient. But she has endured. I think it is because she loves me.

We seem to roller coaster our health issues, me then her, her then me. I have been a nurse to her as well. However, I have had a much easier time taking care of her than she of me. She has been a particularly good patient, unlike me.  So, she is a great nurse and a great patient. But, that’s not why I married her.

As I count of the years, I am reminded that love is the key ingredient to a marriage. And that brings me to the year 12.  We start off our next year with uncertainties in the world we know. And while we will adapt to the changes that inevitably will face us, I know that our marriage will survive.

So why did I marry her?  Because, as I said, “love is the key ingredient to a marriage”.

I write this simply to let the world know that God put us together and I thank Him for that. I could not be more blessed at this time in my life. Thank you Jennifer for marrying me.

I love you, Jennifer Robertson, and Happy Anniversary.

One More Christmas Story

If you are past the age of finding out whom Santa Claus really is, then you probably have heard all the Christmas stories ever told, or so you thought. Allow me to provide you with one more.

Somewhere beyond the heavenly stars dwells a Being that made His presence known on this earth in the form of a Savior. You say, well, that is the same old story I have heard for years. This is a twist on that story.

The Cradle

The old carpenter spent many hours trying to finish his project. He had a deadline to meet and the hour was growing late. It did not seem as though he would be able to complete it. He had started in plenty of time he thought, back when he first learned of the impending arrival. He had scoured the sparsely wooded perimeter of his home looking for just the right tree from which to chisel and perform his gifted talent of carpentry. He finally found a cedar tree just about the right size for his purpose. So, he cut the tree and brought it back to his workshop. It was green and would have to season a bit, but he could deal with that. He laid out the wood for the sun and the air to dry it. It would take thirty to forty-five days of seasoning to be just right. If it dried too fast, it would check and crack. He would sprinkle water on it to slow the process, but if it did not become dry enough for his work then he would be unable to hew and chisel the material.

The days fast disappeared and he began to spend longer hours late at night on his personal project, as he still had work to complete for others as well. After all, he was well known throughout the community, having crafted pieces of furniture for some of the most renowned citizens of his village and in the city not too far away. But he busied himself and continued on his task. He would finish it in time, he vowed as well as the other pieces.

His tools were shopworn but one could see the care he gave them. After all these were tools of his trade. A man without good tools usually does not take pride his product and you could tell the quality of his work just from looking at his tools.

His work of art began to take shape and it was evident of his love for this piece. Perhaps he had insight as to what he was preparing. If it appeared that if wasn’t just right, he would have to start over. This is something he did not want to do. But that would not be the case for it was going very smoothly.

Then unexpected news arrived. He and his family were about to take a forced journey. It could not be delayed. Severe consequences would apply should they not make this trip.

The notice arrived declaring that all residents would have to appear in person with their family members to be counted. He must make his way to his place of birth. He was taken aback. If he disobeyed this government order, he could be prosecuted. If he complied with the order, then he may be unable to finish his project on time. It was a dilemma.

Thoroughly discouraged, he had no choice. He must go with his family to be counted. He would not be able to finish. Feverishly he worked but it appeared that the project would have to wait. Then he thought, I have just a day or two before we must go, so worriedly he worked through the night. By noon the next day he completed the project. Giving thanks, he then set about procuring the animals for the journey to his hometown.

His betrothed asked if they could bring the completed piece, but was told there wasn’t any room. Don’t worry, he said, it would be here when we return. So, they loaded their belongings for the trip and started out.  They had to make their way about ninety miles.

They could only go about fifteen miles a day, so it would take them about six days to reach their destination.  His bride, you see, was pregnant with child and their movement was trudgingly slow. The donkey was not very cooperative either and had to be led.

On the evening of the sixth day, they arrived. It was late and as they begin inquiring for places to stay, they were turned away. It seems perhaps they should have come earlier. The town was full of others who were coming for the census. They were exhausted and desperate. They tried one more place and again were told there was no room. However, the innkeeper felt sorry for them and offered to let them stay in the barn. It wasn’t very clean and the animals had to be shooed about, but they made their bed for the evening.

Before morning would come, she would deliver a baby boy. Right away, he thought of the piece he had made. You see it was a cradle. It was made with loving care for this occasion. But it was not here. It was back home. And he was terribly unnerved. Knowing that she was about to deliver, he searched for a place for the infant.

He did not see anything that could be used. Then he noticed the feed trough, a manger! We could use this if I put some hay in it and perhaps a blanket.

Then he thought, perhaps it was supposed to be. He had heard from those who said that a baby would be born like this and laid in a manger. His cradle would have to wait.

Before the night was over, others would hear of the birth and want to see the Child. But in a manger? Was this right? He wanted so much for this child to have his own bed. But the cradle would have to wait.

Then as the visitors, shepherds from the fields, came in, Joseph heard them talking. It is as the angel has said. He is lying in a manger. Then it came to him. This method, this journey, the manger, the visitors, all of this had been orchestrated by God, just as He said it would be. Joseph saw this for what it really was. The purpose of God was fulfilled. And suddenly, the cradle did not mean nearly as much as before. For God had provided a bed for His Child. A special cradle! A manger! It was a sign to the shepherds that God cared for them too.

December 2003

 

 

The Making of a Marriage

Much has been written and voiced about Marriage.  Max Lucado said, “God created Marriage. No government subcommittee envisioned it, no social organization developed it. Marriage was conceived and born in the mind of God.”  I’m pretty sure I could not improve on that.

I can, however, add these words. New Year’s Day does not usher in marriage, the Easter Bunny does not hide it to be found at a later time; Santa Claus does not put it under the Christmas tree, nor is it some patriotic theme for the 4th of July, although Cupid may be somewhat involved around St. Valentine’s Day.

But it is a cause for celebration. Marriage is much more than words. It comes with the desire of a woman and a man to blend two different lives into one. It comes with the awkwardness of learning to adapt, to compromise. It is like kindergarten, like learning to share what previously was not necessary. These steps cannot be forced upon the marriage partner. It is an innate quality in each individual that determines the future of the relationship, characteristic of a defining fascination between two persons.

To the naked eye, this writing does not seem to be much of a romance story. But it is and it is my story. As I sit and write this for publication, I want to inform the world that it is indeed a romantic look of my adorable spouse. Circumstances beyond our control brought us together. The loss of our previous spouses left a void in both of our lives and I am grateful to God for bringing us together and filling those voids.

On this day, May 15, nine years ago, two became one, not by accident, but by design. God, The Creator and Ultimate Designer set in motion the wheels of romance between the “Rancherette” and the “Rancherwriterpoet”. Among the pines of Central Arkansas, near Hot Springs, in a little log cabin, with a minister for the ceremony and his wife and their dog as witnesses, we exchanged vows and became Mr. and Mrs.  The moment we tied the knot was truly spectacular. And I share our Ninth Anniversary with the world.

The first time I really knew she was for me was when we met in Barnes and Noble. She was in the romance section and I admired her from the map section. Our eyes connected. We met and shared coffee at Starbucks inside the book store. After our meeting for the first time we strolled through the mall, where she purchased a set of coasters for her house. We went for lunch at “On the Border” restaurant. Then we took a long walk through a small park not far from the mall. As we strolled along the path, talking, admiring the early winter scenery, wondering about how quickly the day had passed, our eyes met and then our lips touched. What a moment of excitement and then came the Pomeranian.  You may be wondering about that Pomeranian, well, you will just have to keep wondering. Although I love dogs, I am not a fan of Pomeranians.

If She Were:

If she were a season, she would be Spring. With the blooms of flowers and the multitude of plants she has meticulously introduced into our landscape everywhere, she has beautified our surroundings. And as with her flowering creations, she enriches my life with her beauty.

If she were a rose, it would be a welcome addition to any garden, truly a rose garden. As petals fall, new stems produce new buds and she is like a new bud bringing forth a pleasing rose in my life. I could say she is my Yellow Rose of Texas.

If she were an automobile, she would be a red Corvette. Who cannot admire sleek perfection? The elegance and style of a Corvette would only be enhanced by her own elegance and style. She brings that elegance and style to my life.

If she were a deep blue sky, she would be admired by the whole world, for who cannot be happy with a deep blue sky. I see a blue sky every time I look at her.

If she were a bird she would be the songstress of the air. Singing beautiful songs of endearment would be the sounds I hear.

these are only a few words about our marriage. I could go on and on, but I think you get my meaning; It is the epitome of love. It rings true and is most welcome in my life. I would not have it any other way.

God does indeed provide opportunities to fall in love. I took advantage of one such divine circumstance nine years ago and so I say:

Happy Anniversary to Jennifer, the “Rancherette” of my life. I love you.

 

RIP, DEAR PRADA

Yesterday was Father’s Day. It turned out to be an eventful day around our house. I received the customary phone calls and the usual assortment of Father’s Day cards. And I am so grateful for my children and grandchildren. So, thanks to all my family and especially to my “Rancherette” wife.    However, there was a moment of sadness yesterday. If you are a pet lover as we are, then perhaps you may understand. We have many animals around our home. Chickens, geese, dogs, and they all seem to cohabitate with each other, within certain parameters of course. We love each and every one of them. So it is with that certain sadness we grieve a bit over the loss of one.

Prada, a beloved standard poodle, lost her bout with cancer. She was two weeks shy of her 10th birthday. She was an exceptionally sweet dog with a like disposition. In all of her days, I never heard her bark. She never growled. If there was ever a dog that smiled, she was the one. She was shy, yet playful in her own way. Never a cross word with any other dog. She was small for her breed and never had puppies.  She loved peppermints as do all of our dogs. However, she was terrific at “helping” to unwrap the mint. When we let the dogs run from their kennels in the afternoon she would hang around in order to get an “extra”.  It was almost like a game with her. I’ll miss that.

I do not know God’s plan for animals. He certainly must have enough love for each. It is with a certainty that dogs bring about a sense of belonging in the world. They serve a purpose. In my life I have had many dogs and a few cats. I have loved each and every one and each has brought joy to my life in one form or fashion. The remaining dogs in our kennels must sense a loss in some sort of way. I suppose they grieve a bit as well. So this new day breaks and our lives continue and the days move forward.  This will happen again and again. I will never get used to it. RIP, dear Prada.

Of a Serious Nature

I am deviating from my usual genre of writing because one of my readers commented recently on “The Character of Nature”,  an article I wrote concerning  the extremes of weather activity. That comment also suggested that I share more of my personal perspectives on grief as well as the weather.

The weather, well, this is in the authority of God and I have not yet acquired nor developed the skills to assimilate the various instabilities in weather related disasters. I can only offer my condolences and support to the victims of these calamities, along with spiritual encouragement.

Sometimes we humans wonder if God causes these disasters.  It seems like God isn’t on our side, however, we still need to realize that He can be trusted. Why, because He has injected Himself into our lives by sending His Son, Jesus Christ, to intercede on our behalf. This is the love of God most clearly. Martin Luther once said, “When you look around and wonder whether God cares, you must always hurry to the cross and you must see Him there’.”                                                                                                                                                                                          After we see the response from people following a natural disaster, we see a genuine and heartfelt effort to help someone in distress. This is offered freely and is a trait given to mankind by God, whether one chooses to believe it or not.“When we hear about a natural disaster we should grieve with those who grieve. And we should ask what we can do to alleviate their suffering.”   http://www.Billygraham.org

As for as my thoughts on grief, well, there are literally hundreds of books and writings dealing with grief. I am not an authority on the subject and this does not in any way represent how one should or should not grieve. This is only my perspective on the subject.

Just like everyone else, I have experienced loss.  It is true that grief is unpredictable and inevitable, just like the weather, as the reader commented.  However, I learned a long time ago that giving in to the very feelings of grief is understandable. It is an emotion, yet we cannot allow emotions to consistently dictate the way we live our lives. I believe we should live through the experience, not in the experience.  There are lessons to be learned through these encounters.  However,  I believe at some point one must face reality. There is no time frame for overcoming grief. I cannot tell you how you should grieve over the nature of your loss.  It is very personal.  And personal stories of grief are just that, personal, to be shared only when you feel the time is right.   My suggestion would be to encompass  the love of God in dealing with grief.  David wrote in Psalm 119:50,  “My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life”.

Thanks to Rainee C., for commenting and allowing me an opportunity to expound on this subject. It was indeed a mind opening topic.  However, do not allow the seriousness of this article to keep you from having a wonderful day.

Smile, be upbeat and check your humorous character.

 

Lest We Forget

Mother’s Day is almost upon us. This is a day set aside to honor mothers. Not every woman is a mother, thus, not every woman is afforded the opportunity to celebrate this day as a mother. Perhaps the choice was not theirs. Perhaps it was. It is not an inconsequential decision. For whatever reason, they should still be celebrated for who they are, and I for one, choose to honor them as well.

I no longer have my mother with me today. My biological parents were killed in a tornado in 1946. For the first six years of my life, I enjoyed all the benefits of being an older sibling. I was well fed, clothed properly, maybe not exactly fashionable, but clean. I was treated well, had a bed to sleep in and as I recall, an ice cream cone every once in a while. To the best of my memory and from all accounts of my childhood, my mother was a wonderful mother. It was a good life, until tragedy struck this young family; a tornado destroyed all semblances of the J.C. Morrison family, killing my mother, father, brother, and an uncle. I was the only survivor.

As I write this, I have in my hand my 1st grade report card from 1946. It describes the academic grades for my first year in school. Just so you will know, my average grade for the year was an A-, but who is keeping score. However, the front of this card is not the story. On the back, there are lines for parents to sign after each six weeks period. And at the bottom, it says I was promoted to the second grade. The first two lines are signed by my mother, Mrs. J.C. (Mae B.) Morrison while the middle two lines are blank.

The last two lines are signed by my mother, Mrs. N.R. (“BB”) Robertson.  Curiosity got you. yet?  “BB”, as she was called, was Mae B.’s sister. She became my adopted mother. She was the loving, caring mother who raised me. Even in my rebellious times, she continued to love and care for me and she disciplined me, obviously. Ever have a peach limb across your bare legs? Trust me, that was love. That is what mothers do, love their children.

I am sure I must have been a handful at times. Recalling, a stupid decision I once made when I was thirty-seven years old, she flat out asked me, “Son, when are you going to grow up?” I was thirty-seven years old!

She has long passed from this life to her rewards. It is amazing how I never dwell on all the times we disagreed and the times I surely must have disappointed her. Yet her love for me never wavered. I think of all the people who no longer have the presence of a mother in their life. There surely must be good memories you can recall. I hope so. I am blessed to have had two mothers in my life. Mae B. and BB.

I choose to celebrate Mother’s Day, for both my mothers, for the mother of my children, for those who have given me grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and for my wife and her daughter, my stepdaughter.

I lose count of all the mothers I know, but mothers, know this, you are a gift from God. Lest We Forget, thank you, Father, for the mothers in my life.

Happy Mother’s Day.

From the Highest of Heavens

“Some say we are in the Christmas season, but I say, God is never out of season. People sometimes take Him out of the box in December, put Him back in the box in January and leave Him there until Easter.
This is a reminder… as we celebrate the birth of Christ with family and friends; let us also take this time to reflect on our worship of Him throughout the year.

“The one who comes from above is above all; the one who is from the earth belongs to the earth, and speaks as one from the earth. The one who comes from heaven is above all”. John 3:31

And the Lord God Almighty said, “But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are too small to be among the army groups from Judah, from you will come one who will rule Israel for me. He comes from very old times, from days long ago.” Micah 5:2

In the highest of heavens,
Even, the heavens above the heavens,
The Most High sits on the glorious throne of the Lord God Almighty.
In the beginning and from Your splendid throne…
…You Were…
Before the equation of time became measurable,
…You Were God…
Before the flawless design of endless space
…You Existed…
Before cosmic matter came into being
…You were present…
Before God-breathed humanity was fashioned
…You Were…
Before NOTHING at ALL! …You Were…

And Even before all of this, my name…,
…MY NAME… was on your lips,
And my soul? MY SOUL? It was on your mind.
And love for me was in your heart,
Because? You Were…

And in that highest of heavens,
And at your right hand, sat your Son, Jesus,
with the Plan for my soul.
—You whispered my name—
And He said, “I’ll go!”
Then from that highest of heavens,
Down through the endless space,
in His measured time,
Brushing aside celestial spaces
and to save humanity…
In flesh, thru a virgin birth, He came…

And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth John 1:14

Here in the month of December, we celebrate the physical birth of the Lord Jesus Christ. But today isn’t His birthday, and neither is December the 25th. For we celebrate NOT the day He came, but THAT  He Came!

Some ask, was it real? I say my friends, yes, His Birth was indeed real and He is indeed real.

  Can you imagine God whispering to Jesus,
the names of EVERYONE ever created in His image? …
Even before the world existed?
God whispered Your name…Then He came…

Pete Robertson @ 2015

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