Introducing LeMira's Literature Corner

Today as I was cleaning and organizing my hobby room, I came upon a box of papers I'd kept around since I was a teenager.  Most of the papers were motivational quotes and stories along with a bunch of Young Women hand-outs.  I realized that I could find most of the stories and even better hand-outs now with the internet and all of its resources.  The converted cereal box to file box had to go.

However, I'm glad I didn't just dump the whole box.  In it I found all of my poems and church talks starting from sixth grade through part of high school.  These babies are GEMS.  Most of them make me laugh because they are sappy, much like high school.  I even remembered why I wrote some of them, and many others, I do not.  I do know, however, that poetry was the way I dealt with my emotions.  Most poems were written for or about a specific person or situation.  I've been wanting to write them all up and print them off in a book for me -- not to sell, believe me when I say they are not worth selling.  They are worth keeping, however. 

I had this stroke of genius, or insanity, and I decided to let you all in to my past.  I'm going to start posting a poem or a talk a week, I think.  I will have my own Literature Corner, haha!  I don't care if you tear apart my poems.  I tried really hard to rhyme when I wrote them, which makes them even sappier.  They make me smile.  You may just think they're boring, and that's okay, but at least I will have them documented here.  Then, I can finally print off my blog and have them in one place.

Okay, first up,  "You Look a Little Ill."  This was written in sixth grade when we had a guest poet come in and help us with a poetry unit.  I remember him thinking we all needed to do better, and I remember thinking he was really good.  I have no idea who it was, but I remember him working with all of us.

"You Look a Little Ill"

You look a little ill

Your face is green and pale.

It has little blue spots, too.

You look a little ill

Your [sic] soaked with sweat,

And your eyes are shaded gray.

You look a little ill

Your face is green and pale

You need a little pill.

You look a little ill.

Go lay in bed a while 

Take a rest because

You look a little ill.

Personally, this poem had potential, and I missed it.  This has the beginnings of a Shel Silverstein or Jack Prelutsky type poem, and I completely missed it.  I think I didn't quite get humorous poetry yet although I loved it at that age.

Stay tuned for next week!

No Difference

Did you know that November is National adoption month?  Well, it is.  In honor of this month, I'd like to start off with this poem:

No Difference 

by Shel Silverstein

Small as a peanut,

Big as a giant,

We're all the same size

When we turn off the light.

Rish as a sultan,

poor as a mite,

We're all worth the same

When we turn off the light.

Red, black or orange,

Yellow or white,

WE all look the same

When we turn off the light.

So maybe the way 

To make everything right

Is for God to just reach out

And turn off the light!

Can we learn to look past our differences and turn off our "lights" that keep us from seeing each other equally? 

Peace

Obviously I've been very absorbed with adoption again, as you can tell by my numerous posts. I'm here to tell you that I'm at peace with our journey. I look forward to the day of adding to our family with anticipation and excitement, and yet I'm finally at peace. I rejoice for other adoptive parents when I find out that they've been chosen by an expectant mother. Yes, I long for the day when it will be our turn, but I no longer feel jealousy or pain at another's joy. I know that when it is our time, it will be right. All will be right.

I love this post here today.

You can read our letter to expectant parents here. We decided to redo it, and we finally feel like it reflects who we really are. No more trying to be something that we think an expectant mother is looking for.

We sang this hymn in church today, and for the first time I really read the words. Love the imagery:

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Ye fearful Saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev'ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Picture taken by Matt

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan his works in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.

"God Moves in a Mysterious Way"
by William Cowper

What blessings have been showered on your head lately?

On Waiting . . .

My dear friend Esther, who knows all about adoption, sent this poem to me last week. I love it, and I think it applies to anything in life, not just us and adoption.

"Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried.
Quietly, patiently, lovingly God replied.
I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate,
And the Master so gently said, “Child, you must wait!”

“Wait?, you say, wait!” my indignant reply.
“Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!
Is Your hand shortened? Or have You not heard?
By faith I have asked, and am claiming Your Word.”

“My future and all to which I can relate
Hangs in the balance, and You tell me to wait?
I’m needing a ‘yes,’ a go-ahead sign,
Or even a ‘no’ to which I can resign.”

“And Lord, You promised that if we believe
We need but to ask, as we shall receive.
And Lord, I’ve been asking, and this is my cry:
I’m weary of asking! I need a reply!”

Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate
As my Master replied once again, “You must wait.”
So, I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut
And grumbled to God, “So, I’m waiting…for what?”

He seemed then to kneel and His eyes wept with mine,
And He tenderly said, “I could give you a sign.
I could shake the heavens, and darken the sun.
I could raise the dead, and cause mountains to run.
All you seek, I could give, and pleased you would be.
You would have what you want…but, you wouldn’t know Me.”

“You’d not know the depth of My love for each saint;
You’d not know the power that I give to the faint;
You’d not learn to see through the clouds of despair;
You’d not learn to trust just by knowing I’m there;
You’d not know the joy of resting in Me
When darkness and silence were all you could see.”

“You’d never experience that fullness of love
As the peace of My Spirit descends like a dove;
You’d know that I give and I save … (for a start),
But you’d not know the depth of the beat of My heart.”

The flow of My comfort late into the night,
The faith that I give when you walk without sight,
The depth that’s beyond getting just what you asked
Of an infinite God, who makes what you have last.”

“You’d never know, should your pain quickly flee,
What it means that ‘My grace is sufficient for thee.’
Your dreams for your loved ones overnight would come true,
But, oh, the loss! if I lost what I’m doing in you!”

“So, be silent, my child, and in time you will see
That the greatest of gifts is to get to know Me
And though oft may My answers seem terribly late,
My most precious answer of all is still, ‘WAIT’.”

Author: Russell Kelfer
(1933-2000)

Jackson's SIX!

Jackson six years ago

2 lbs. 1 oz., 13 inches long, born at 25 weeks and 5 days



I'm so glad Heavenly Father let him stay.

Happy Birthday, Kiddo!