The Stuff of Life


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Further Still – A Poem by Beth Moore

DSC03371I found this poem during one of my middle of the night reading sessions. And as I am at the start of what is likely going to be a not-so-good sleep night, I am encouraged by it again. It is beautifully written. Enjoy.

Further Still

In that lonely place ~ No friend can go ~ No brother can help ~ No loved on can know

I must crawl on ~ While you stay ~ Further still ~ Just watch and pray

In that lonely place ~ The cup is fought ~ To sip the pain ~ Or choose my lot

To claim my rights ~ Or cast them down ~ To gain my loss ~ Or scorn my crown

Life pivots there ~ In Further Still ~ Face to the ground ~ Fighting his will

Can’t choose to return ~ The same who went ~ Once Further Still ~ The old is spent

So remember me ~ And stay close by ~ I’ll need you soon ~ Right by my side

And pray me back ~ Til He has won ~ And throat is parched ~ From “Yours be done!”


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Where I’m From – Family Heritage @ Inspire a Fire

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It’s my day to blog over at Inspire a Fire. It’s just a short sweet post about childhood memories including my own version of George Ella Lyon’s poem Where I’m From.

If need a creative challenge on this lovely Saturday, try writing your own Where I’m From.  It’s a lot of fun (unless you are not a word person, in which case it could be a torturous experience.)

Where I’m From – Family Heritage @ Inspire a Fire.


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Middle School Moms and A Poem about a Boy and His Mama

Tonight begins Middle School Moms group at my house. (I know it’s a terribly creative name isn’t it?) As I sit wondering about the moms I’m going to get to know better and the kids I’m going to have the opportunity to pray for this summer, I am reminded of this poem I wrote a couple years ago.

A poem about a little boy who still lives in the world where holding mama’s hand in public is as natural as giggling with his friends.

I have one boy who holds my hand still, but time moves fast, and middle-schoolers love their mama in ways that generally do not include public displays of affection.

But I love them all so much. I love the little boy who cuddles with me on the couch while we watch The Cosby Show, and I love the big ones who sprawl across the couch and floor watching the NBA finals with me, hollering at the refs when they make a bad call.

The Hand Holding Mine

By: Kim Harms

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Waiting in the lunch line

Adrift in a sea of children

A little boy’s hand

slips unpretentiously into mine.

Back and forth he swings my arm

All the while

Animatedly chatting

With the classmates surrounding him.

This moment does not dissolve his heart.

The touch of my hand does not cause his eye to tear.

He is simply a little boy

Staking claim to his mama.

But to me it is more.

Those fingers all wrapped up in mine

I am wholly in love

In this brief moment.

Lost in a world

Where smooth little fingers mesh easily with aging hands

And the expression of a son’s love for his mama

Comes as naturally as laughing with his friends.

A world which

Upon a blink and a breath

Will pass from reality

Into memory.


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Classic Children’s Poems Rewritten for the Middle School Mom

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The Harms and Skow boys in a rare moment of stillness.

 

My friend (the one I wrote about here) recently reworked some children’s poems for The Des Moines Moms Blog.

She is one of the few people in the this world who can make me laugh and cry at the same time, which is just what I did when I read these for the first time the other day.  If you are in the mood for a good laugh/cry, read on…

“You Are My I Love You” – (Original) Maryann K. Cusimano

I am your parent you are my child
I am your quiet place, you are my wild
I am your calm face, you are my giggle
I am your wait, you are my wiggle
I am your audience, you are my clown
I am your London Bridge, you are my falling down
I am your Carrot Sticks, you are my licorice
I am your dandelion, you are my first wish
I am your water wings, you are my deep
I am your open arms, you are my running leap
I am your way home, you are my new path
I am your dry towel, you are my wet bath
I am your dinner you are my chocolate cake
I am your bedtime, you are my wide awake
I am your finish line, you are my race
I am your praying hands, you are my saving grace
I am your favourite book, you are my new lines
I am your nightlight, you are my sunshine
I am your lullaby, you are my peek-a-boo
I am your kiss goodnight, you are my I love you

{“You Are My I Love You – Redux” – Marti Skow}

I will always be your momma, but you are no longer small,
I’ll always be “The Perfect Fan,” you’re becoming “The Boys of Fall”
I am your secret keeper, you’re a sharer on Instagram
I guide you toward a subtle ‘Yes,’ when your instinct is ‘No ma’am!’
I’m queen of second chances, you often take a third
I call you buddy, young man and friend, even when you are a turd
I swallow hard when you resist my touch, a fist bump is all you need
I ask you to make decisions slowly, you much prefer to speed
I am that voice nestled deep inside, you often pretend you’re deaf
I am the deliverer of balanced meals, you’d prefer a personal chef
I am the one beckoning, “GO TO BED!”, you are the resident owl
I am the tucker-in-of-kids, you want “goodnights” shouted from the hall
I am in bed and hear the beep, your thoughts are sweetest at nighttime texts
I say, ‘I love you bud, XOXO,’ you reply OXOX.

To read the rest of her poems, head on over to The Des Moines Moms Blog.


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I Am Not Enough

I am not enough

To undo my mistakes, to answer my own prayers

To make myself compassionate when I simply don’t care.

To give joyfully each time, to love those I don’t like,

To succeed without pride, to submit without a fight.

I am not enough

To seize every moment, to savor every gift

To put playtime above laundry on my to-do list.

To ease the worries that find their way inside.

To overcome the insecurities I so like to hide.

I am  not enough

But I know the One who is.

The One who

Forgives my mistakes and answers my prayers

Fills my heart with compassion that was not before there.

Who loves the unlovable, Epitomizes joy.

Submitted in humility to come to earth as a boy.

The One who

Never misses a moment, nor overlooks a gift

Who gives undivided attention to every petition I lift.

Who exchanges my worry for calm, my insecurity for peace.

Whose unconditional love will not ever cease.

I am not enough, but I know the one who is.

So thankful that though I have never been perfect and never will be, I know the one who is and always has been. And he loves me enough not only to save me but to gently guide me to become more like him.


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“Mom, Let Go” – A Poem About My Boy

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Because sometimes milestones can be equally joy-filled and heart-breaking.

“Mom, let go.”

 *

Three small words

A punch to the gut

Tears behind sunglasses

Broken heart

 *

Black bicycle seat

Released from my grasp

Unfettered boy

Riding free

 *

Simple mastery of

Two-wheels

But to me

It is more

*

He can do it

On his own

Reliance on me

Ever decreasing

 *

A mama’s pride

 Mingled with loss

Most heart-wrenching

Mix of emotions

 *

Down the path

He pedals alone

Grinning, bursting with

Joy of independence

 *

Bless that boy

Father I pray

And comfort the mama

Who let go


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Iowa’s NOT World Famous Artist Designer

Disclaimer: This is a shameless plug for my artist brother Keith. He is amazingly talented. But don’t take my word for it. Let these photos speak for themselves.

I highlight the NOT in the title because a recent newspaper article about him opened by stating that he is a self-proclaimed world famous artist. The world famous thing was actually a joke on his part as you can see by his sign below 😉 But hey, if he gets enough publicity, maybe he will become world famous.

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I have been into silly little poems as of late. Bear with me here for one more 😉

Nelson may not be world famous

But his talent is second to none.

If you’d like an elephant in your living room.

He’d be happy to paint you one.

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Do you own a classic Duesenburg

Or motorcycle that you treasure?

If you have some extra cash to spare

Painting a likeness would be his pleasure.

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Or maybe it’s classic Hollywood

That puts a smile upon your face

Dean, Monroe or Presley

In your home you could showcase.

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You can look Nelson up on facebook

or find him here or there.

Or if your passing through Polk City, Iowa

Stop and see him on the square.

And to answer the question I always field after showing someone my brother’s art: No, I am not artistically talented. Unless you count doodling. I can doodle with the best of them.

Keith Nelson Arts studio hours (subject to change):

Monday and Tuesday – by appointment or by chance

Wednesday through Friday – 9 a.m. – 5:30 p.m.

Saturday – 9 a.m. – 3 p.m.