Sunday, October 18, 2020

Happy Anniversary to Us!

Bob and I will be celebrating

our 14th Wedding Anniversary

this Wednesday...


Maude & Bob Pych--October 21, 2006

Here's an anniversary poem

written for my hubby...


BETHESDA, 14 YEARS LATER—

For Bob, with love—10/21/2020

 

There’s a framed poem

hanging on our kitchen wall

that I wrote while we were

on our honeymoon

 

We were at the Pool of Bethesda

in the Holy land—

Our tour guide told us

Bethesda means

house of loving-kindness

 

At that precise moment, I vowed

our home would be Bethesda—

a house of loving-kindness

 

Today is our 14th anniversary

and that honeymoon promise

has held true

 

Our home is still our sanctuary—

our peaceful refuge

 

It is a humble dwelling

but the very place we are pleased

to return to when the key

turns in the lock

 

As we enter, you predictably quote

Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz:

 

There’s no place like home!

 

Those words

and our shared happiness

never fail to put a smile on my face

 

Happy anniversary, darling!

 

God bless you for being

the cherished personification

of loving-kindness in my life

 

Maude Carolan Pych

 

Sunday, October 11, 2020

Let's Take a Brisk Autumn Walk...

 "The falling leaves drift by the window

the autumn leaves of red and gold..."

calling us to go for a brisk autumn walk

and hear the crunch of leaves beneath our feet.


Image credit: pinterest.com


SYMPHONY OF THE WOODS

I meander through woods

along a beaten pathway in North Jersey

and the music begins immediately

 

There’s chittering of crickets

and the cacophony of other insects

that are hanging on to life

until the frost, which will come soon

Leaves rustle in the trees

some whoosh past me

as they fall to the ground

and there’s a crunch

of dry ones beneath my feet

 

I hear an occasional snap of a twig

and the scamper of squirrels

or chipmunks, a raccoon

or field mice scurrying unseen

up and down tree trunks

or frolicking in the dense brush

 

There may be hidden deer or a bear

Some sounds I cannot identify

 

Birdsong completely fills the air

all kinds of birdsong—

chirps and coos

and warbles and squawks

I even hear the flutter

of wing flaps

 

Tying everything together

is the faintest whistling in the breeze

that feels something like tinnitus

ringing in my ears

but it’s not unpleasant

 

All the sounds blend together

into Nature’s symphony—

a serenade to my spirit

as I stroll

 

Maude Carolan Pych


My book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

would be an excellent Christmas gift

for those who love Jesus and enjoy poetry.


It's available online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.


Sunday, October 4, 2020

A Visit to the Holy Land

Soon it'll be time to think about the holidays,

and when that time comes...

consider giving my book of poetry

about the Birth, Death & Resurrection of Jesus.


Ordering details are on my website.

And now, a poem from my book,

Behold the Lamb...poetically!

 

AT CHORAZIN

Israel Pilgrimage—1986

 

We’re at Chorazin, trying

to make ourselves comfortable

amid the ancient ruins

of the cursed city

 

I look for a patch

of dry grass to sit upon;

others sit on some rocks

Wayne[1] props himself

against an acacia tree

 

We’re wearing head coverings

to shield us from the sun—

It’s hot!

 

Beside us are box lunches

and water bottles

that we’ve brought

from the hotel

 

We open our Bibles

to Luke 10:13

 

Woe to you Chorazin;

woe to you Bethsaida…

 

Wayne begins teaching—

 

I think of Jesus—

imagine Him propped

against a tree

like Wayne

 

imagine myself at His feet—

like Mary of Bethany

like an apostle

 

imagine us opening

our lunch sacks—

barley loaves; some fish

fresh from the depths

of the Galilee nearby

 

imagine listening to every word

as the Master pronounces woes

on the unrepentant cities

 

That was nearly

two millennia ago—

This is 1986

It is Wayne who is explaining

the Scriptures to us

not Jesus

 

We offer praise to God

and sing Hallels from the Psalms

A few birds are chirping

The sun-scorched clumps

of grass are lumpy beneath me

I smell the dry earth

and swat at a few pesky gnats

Perspiration beads up on my brow

I wipe it away

It is, I suppose, much the same

as it was way back then

 

and as it was then for them

I want the Word

to take root inside of me—

be it woes and chastisements

be it beatitudes and blessings—

take root

as it did in Mary

as it did in the apostles

 

for I, too, am a disciple

of the Lord

 

Maude Carolan Pych



[1] Rev. Wayne Monbleau is the founder of Loving Grace Ministries and host of the Christian radio call-in counseling program, “Let’s Talk About Jesus.” He led this 1986 pilgrimage to Israel.