Sunday, June 9, 2019

Come Holy Spirit...


Today we celebrated Shevout/Pentecost
at Beth Israel Worship Center


Pentecost 1979 is my Spiritual Birthday!

Image credit: commongoodonline.org

ACTS, CHAPTER 2

Sometimes—
when I read my Bible
I imagine myself
there, in the rumpled, dog-eared pages
where and when remarkable things
were happening

For instance—
Oh, I wish I could’ve been
in the room that morning in Jerusalem
on the Day of Pentecost
when an astonishing sound
of rushing wind came from Heaven
and filled the place with the Holy Spirit

wish I could’ve been among
the crowd of bewildered people
clutching garments and belongings
securing food baskets and money bags
amid the sound of whirring wind
wondering what was going on

I would’ve seen with startled eyes
blazing tongues of fire appear
then split and rest above us all
would’ve heard the Galileans
miraculously uttering languages
they did not know
proclaiming good news
to people of every nation

Oh, joy! Euphoria!

I would’ve heard
preposterous ridicule and accusations
that we were drunk with wine
Drunk with wine so early in the morning!

Had I been there, I would’ve seen
Peter stand with his brethren
and quote the prophet Joel
and speak of Jesus
Crucifixion, Resurrection
and call us to repent

and finally, would’ve witnessed
three thousand souls receive salvation
and I would’ve been in that number

Oh! How great that would’ve been
How exciting to imagine

but, I didn’t need to be there
God had other plans—

On another Holy Pentecost
His Spirit came to rest on me
just as surely as it did
on the early believers
in Jerusalem, that day

and just the same as they
I have been changed

forever

Maude Carolan Pych

Sunday, June 2, 2019

Irises Are In Bloom

Presby Memorial Iris Garden, Montclair, NJ
essexcountyparks.org

THE IRIS GARDEN

I delightedly strolled
along an iris rainbow
one effulgent Sunday in May
while would-be VanGoghs
painted under sunbrellas.

God could’ve made irises gray,
but He’s as lavish with color
as He is with love.

Maude Carolan

Photo credit: mfacebook.com



Sunday, May 26, 2019

WE'RE PRAYING FOR REVIVAL...

Image credit: revivalhut.com


REVIVE US, DEAREST JESUS ll

My Prayer for Revival in America

The morning sun is streaming in as I prepare to pray
recalling what my pastor said in his word to us one day.
He spoke of the time we live in and of people losing faith,
of disregard for God’s Holy Word, and an increase in hate.

Many churches are closing or the Gospel gets watered down,
there’s disrespect for spiritual things and God is made a clown.
My pastor said he’s burdened; therefore he’s asking us to pray
for a nationwide revival; hope for all who’ve gone astray.

Oh, my dear Lord Jesus, You were born to save us, this I know,
and by Your death upon the Cross, You conquered the evil foe.
I know Your desire is that none be lost, that’s my desire, too,
therefore, I am humbly on my knees and crying out to You,

to reveal to all who know You, Lord, the need to repent.
Point us back to Your Holy Cross and why Your Blood was spent.
America must turn back to You, and live our lives Your way.
Oh! Let there be revival here.  Let us see it in our day!

We must have sorrow for our sins, and confess those sins to You.
We need to call upon Your Name, and then be Born Anew.
Through Your amazing grace and love, there’ll be splendors in store
and by Your Resurrection we will have life forevermore!

May multitudes flock unto You, countless as grains of sand.
May churches fill up with faithful folks all across our land.
May dusty Bibles be opened and hearts abound with love.
Lord, I’m sending my morning prayer, straight to Your throne above.

O Savior, You are worthy to receive our honor and praise.
Draw the backsliders; draw the lost, to walk in all Your ways—
Revive! Revive us, Jesus! I long to see what You will do
in answer to this earnest prayer…all glory belongs to You!

Maude Carolan Pych


Sunday, May 19, 2019

METAMORPHOSIS


It's Spring!

I've been noticing the pretty butterflies
and thinking about...


Image credit: martydavisphotos.com


METAMORPHOSIS

Once I was a caterpillar, dwelling upon the earth,
Crawling along day by day, adept at feigning mirth.
I only knew the earthy life, I thought that that was it;
I took what terra firma gave, the pleasures and the grit.
There was no beauty in me.  No one ever looked here twice,
Few cared if I were evil, no one knew if I were nice.
I was only concerned with myself, what the earth could give,
Yet, inside I was sensing a far better way to live.
Instinct led me to spin a thread and weave a neat cocoon;
I became a living mummy, wrapped tight within my tomb.
What was happening to me?  I tried to kick and shout,
“Help me!  Open up this thing!  I want to get right out!”
No one heard and I was powerless, so I went to sleep,
Not knowing what was ahead of me, feeling something deep.
I don’t know how much time went by within my tiny tomb,
But sensed that I was being changed, as one inside a womb.
Finally, instinct worked in me.  There was a sudden urge
To break out of my chrysalis and from the dark emerge.
Somehow, I then received the strength to burst my being free;
Alas, the golden Light broke through and there was a new me!
I took some time to understand, some time to wonder why,
Then I just shook myself a bit and I began to fly!
And `lo, I was so beautiful, and `lo, I saw the sun...
Oh, after living on the earth, soaring was great fun!
A wretched worm was I no more, I knew that that was true,
I was reborn and I became a creation wholly new!
A butterfly!  A butterfly!  I received my wings,
Glorious splendors of the Heavens, all the higher things.
All old things have passed away, they’ll never come again;
I’ve set my mind on things above, on these I will attend.
Now, even when I swoop to earth and walk upon the ground,
I’ll never be a worm again...I’m Butterfly...glory bound!
Praise God for metamorphosis, it’s by His loving grace
That I’m a new creation now, and I shall see His Face.

Maude Carolan

Sunday, May 12, 2019

In Memory of My Mother


Happy Mother's Day!

In Loving Memory
of my dear mother...

Frances Longo Walsh--1915-1966



OLD MOTHERS

Never had the opportunity--
missed the privilege
of doting upon my old mother.
Mother died
of a heart attack
at fifty-one

Watch with envy--
sweet old mothers
with rosy rouged cheeks
and charming smiles
carefully navigating
footed canes
or wheeled walkers
Dutiful daughters
accompany them
pleasantly
in doctor’s waiting rooms
taking their tweed coats
making small talk
about the grandchildren
and what Aunt So And So
will be serving
the church ladies for lunch
Blessed daughters
who left beds unmade
dishes in the sink
who listen attentively
to doctor’s instructions
see that Medicare
and supplementary insurances
are processed properly
who assist them
with their coats
and to their cars
stopping at pharmacies
on the way home

Maude Carolan

The above poem won an honorable mention in the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Contest and was originally published in the "Paterson Literary Review."

Sunday, May 5, 2019

To All the Busy Moms...

Let's see
if we can give a tired mother a break
this Mother's Day...

ALL THE WOMEN I KNOW ARE TIRED

I see it in their strides
their slumped shoulders
their shuffling feet
as they drag themselves
through their tasks

I see it in their uncovered yawns
their dull expressions
the darkness below
their lusterless eyes

All the women I know
are weary, drained
unfocused
they stare into refrigerators
they stare out windows
they stare at papers
they try to remember
what they intended to do next

All the women I know
shower rather than bathe
drive rather than walk
phone rather than visit
They dream about
what they hope to do
when there's
time

All the women I know
are sleep deprived
up too early
down too late
rest-less
as they try
to get it all done

They can't get it all done
there's not enough time

All the women I know
are tired

Dog tired

especially during the holidays
because they love, they
shop and clean
cook and bake
wrap, decorate
send cards
invite
invite
invite

They're exhausted

especially those who go to work
especially those who go to work
and have children
especially those who go to work
and have old, ailing parents

All the women I know
fall asleep over teacups
in the evening
or over a book
or over the bills
or in front of the TV

All the women I know
believed the lie
drilled into them
in the '70s
that they could do it all
be it all
have it all

all what

all is nothing

when they languish
in their shoes

Maude Carolan

The above poem won an honorable mention in the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Contest and was originally published in the "Paterson Literary Review."

Sunday, April 28, 2019

In Memory of Mary Leak

In Loving Memory of
Mary "the Hugger" Leak
1933-2019


A PLACE PREPARED
For Mary Leak, 1933-2019
In My Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would
have told you. I go to prepare a place for you, and if I go and prepare
a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where
I am, there you may be also." John 14: 2-3 NKJV

You dwell now in a place prepared, by God with you in mind;
a place of exquisite beauty, pastoral and sublime,
a place no earthly eye has seen, no ear has heard about…
Beyond our wildest imaginings…Of this, there is no doubt.

God has given glimpses of our home in Eternity;
The Bible says the streets are gold. There is a crystal sea.
It speaks of emerald rainbows and it speaks of no more tears.
We are told there is no darkness, no trouble, pain or fears.

Trees are laden with luscious fruit, high walls of jasper gleam,
wide open gates of giant pearls…It's true! It's not a dream!
Foundations of chalcedony, beryl, jacinth, and sapphire,
amethyst, emerald, sardonyx, topaz…jewels afire!

In the midst of this wonder sits the Lamb upon the Throne.
No need for blazing sunshine…He is Heaven's Light alone!
I wish I could see you, Mary, beholding this great bliss,
seen your joy inexpressible, at God's tender first kiss!

I know there are many mansions in our Heavenly home.
Jesus prepared one for you. It was He Who bid you, "Come."
When I speak of you in Heaven, folks think I'm being brave.
but I know you dwell in Glory, not in a dismal grave.

Can't picture you wearing a halo, strumming golden strings,
reclining on a fluffy cloud. No! God's planned greater things!
Can imagine you at a gate with Mary, Martha, Paul
praising God and thanking Him for Calvary, love and all.

I miss you, my dear friend, and ask Jesus to fill the space
that in me is empty since you went to that prepared place.
Jesus is so faithful. He gives comfort that does not cease.
Believing you dwell near His heart fills my soul with peace.

I know you rest in God's bosom, dream of you bathed in Love,
believe you’ll have a hug for me, when I join you above.
I know for sure big rolling tears would saturate my socks
if I did not believe, Mary, you're in Heaven and it rocks!!!

Maude Carolan Pych

The above poem was adapted for Mary Leak
from the original version, written in 2004.