What do you do while the clothes are fluffing in the dryer and you are waiting before taking them out to fold them?
Do you have paper and pens, color crayons and chalk sitting on your table where you’re waiting to fold clothes?
I do.
I love to write Acrostics while waiting in the laundry room for the clothes to fluff so I can fold them wrinkle free.
Here are a few of mine. You can guess the topic knowing these were created within the last four months.
ANTICIPATING OWEN 2/14/24
O ur W onderful E specially N ew
P resent U plifting us: P up!!
Screenshot
POOPY OWEN 3/18/24
P lease O bey, O wen! P oop Y our shit O utside W hen E ver N ecessary!
Please, Lord, help us figure out how to train this puppy to go outside – and to come when called!
OWEN LEO:HE’S LEARNING! 4/20/24
O odles of fun W hen he behaves E ven when he forgets, he N ever ceases to bring joy!
L et us be patient and E ncourage his good behavior. O wen is such a love!
FUTURE PLANS 6/7/24
F irst U p: T rouble erupted U nder our noses R eally sad E vent happened P up Owen died L anding outside the window A ttached to his leash N oose around his neck S uffocated, hung himself.
Where do we go from here? How do we keep living in this empty, vacuous house without Owen? He filled all the empty spaces in our home and hearts. We are devastated. Can’t think future plans right now.
DON’T GET STUCK 6/14/24
D isasters O ccur N ightmares T raumatize G oodness E nters T hrough S ensitive T rusting U nderstanding C aring K indred Spirits
We have been so blessed this week to have the love and hugs, flowers and cards, calls and caring of so many of our family & friends. They have encouraged us to grieve, of course, but “Don’t get stuck.” In Owen’s sweet memory Move On… Laugh again, Love again, Rejoice again, Snuggle again with Another Boston Terrier.
We’re not quite ready yet… But God is helping us heal. Thank you, God’s angels. We love you!
Where are you looking? Let’s forget the former things – Don’t dwell on the past.
Remember the good, Learn from all of your troubles, And focus on the now.
Strength and Grace, a daily devotional from Guideposts, is one of my morning rituals. My last post, “Whatever is Lovely,” also was inspired by this publication.
Today I am exploring the subjects of love and memory, and asking myself, “Where ya lookin’?”
I am remembering the time I was lookin’ to the right when I shoulda been lookin’ straight ahead. I walked into our car’s hatchback. It was comin’ down – and obviously I didn’t realize it!!
I am remembering the time I was dashing out of the car to go into a local restaurant to meet my granddaughter and her children. I was looking ahead when I should have been looking down … at my feet … at the curb. I tripped over it. Broke my pinky finger big time!
Ouch! I am remembering the time I was stepping up into the house from the garage and I didn’t step up far enough. I fell backward and hit my head on the metal hitch of the trailer. Eight stitches later I shoulda been lookin’ where I was steppin’!!
There’s a time to look up. There’s a time to look back. There’s a time to look ahead. But ALL THE TIME we should Look out! Look at the NOW. Live in the present – And look to live longer, healthier, happier, safer.
Father, in Your mercy, rescue me from myself, from my carelessness. Help me look to You for guidance and help me slow down, live in the now, and watch where I’m goin’! Amen
Owen Leo Beekman Born 7-24-23 on my 85th birthday! (We’re both Leos!!)
Just look at that face! Doesn’t he look innocent?
Guess again! That “Ducky” used to have a head!
First to go at the expert chewing of our destructive pup was the beak… then the whole head!
And next, the wings had to come off, and all the stuffing out of the body!
So, I cut the limp body off of the rope, and as you can see, he loves his rope!
We’ve had Boston Terriers all of our married life, 62 years worth, with about six different pups in those six decades. But none was as destructive as this guy!!
See that collar on him? It is to prevent him from pulling the stitches out from the surgery he had last Monday.
Suppose getting him neutered will calm him down? We hope so!!
He really is a sweetheart… when he’s asleep! But he is such a live wire when he’s awake… Always into something! Will not sit still in Bob’s arms to have his toenails trimmed the way our last Boston, TazE, did!
But, Owen’s just 10 months old today… and so he is still learning, still a puppy. Give him time, huh? Owen is destined to be an angel…
We just pray that he makes that transition while he is still here on earth. Right?
My mom loved poetry and she saved those she liked the most when she saw them in the newspaper back in the 1930’s. I have the cardboard on which she taped her favorites.
It’s inside my kitchen cabinet door. So faded you can just barely read it. The date says 1936! One of my favorites of that collection is:
My dog is a nuisance, an absolute pest, With him in the house there is truly no rest. He leaves dirty tracks on the mirror-bright floor, And scratches the paint from the tidy front door.
He slobbers his water and spills half his food; The rugs are all gnawed and the slippers are chewed. He sheds tufts of hair and he scatters his fleas; He buries his bones under bushes and trees.
He keeps me awake every night with his yaps; The neighbors all cuss him for spoiling their naps. I’ll stand it no longer. I’m getting fed up. I won’t be a slave for that bothersome pup.
Er, pardon, excuse me – but what did you say? You ask if I’m giving my puppy away? You’ve the nerve to suggest that you’ll take him with pleasure. Well, certainly not – he’s an absolute treasure!
…Margaret Macprang MacKay, poet
Here’s mom… with my dad … back in 1936 At the time she collected those poems, Before my sister and I were born. Aren’t I the lucky one? To have such parents?
Thank you, Mom, for your love of poetry And your love of dogs, and your tolerance. Er, pardon, excuse me, but what did you say? You ask if I’m giving my Owen away?
Well, certainly not! I’ll keep him with pleasure. He’s an absolute treasure!!
National poetry month is wrapping up. Where did April go? I am so glad I was able to hear our state’s poet laureate, Chris La Tray, this month. He certainly inspired me. Have you tried your hand at writing some poetry this month?
Our Advent study in poetry certainly enhanced that ADVENTure this year for me!
Proverbs 16:9
“In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.”
My morning devotionals in Dec. 2023 have guided my steps in 2024. The Advent team challenged us to “…hold space for our weariness and our joy… seek a thrill of hope in our hurting world… cry out for comfort… and find many ways to rejoice.”
This is the poem Rev. Sarah wrote to kick off the theme that has inspired my 2024 thus far:
So, unzip the weight you carry around, and let God inspire you also to rejoice in this weary world!
My response to that poem was to let Rev. Sarah Speed inspire me to write my own “The Last Time I Saw God”
The last time I saw God face to face I opened the bedroom shades. God was every color of orange. I was merely a mortal in awe of it all.
The sun was just rising over the Madison Range. God was in the sunrise. I climbed my sanctuary stairs. God was waiting there for me; He was the brightest yellow.
The time before that, A three-year-old was explaining her understanding of love. God was the brightest red in her precocious explanation. Love is helping others – being kind.
And in between these small gifts were glimpses of God in the warm morning hug, the gathering of church friends, the joy of guitar accompaniment, and the sound of congregational singing.
Why yes, we are blessed. We are more than blessed for the moments when God appears and speaks through the purple haze in a voice sweet as morning dewdrops, “Listen, my beloved, I am with you. See me, my beloved, I am here in your every breath.”
That was not the first nor will it be the last time I will see and hear God.
When is the last time you saw God face to face? Write about it! God bless you!
Yesterday I attended a meeting at the EllingHouse in Virginia City, MT where our Montana Poet Laureate, Chris La Tray presented his poetry.
My post yesterday told you a little about him. I went expecting to be inspired. I was not disappointed.
He shared his history and read poems from his books. I bought the “One Sentence Journal” and my friends, Ann & John, bought his book of Haiku & Haibun (which they let me borrow for a few days).
Chris explained that Haiku does not have to strictly adhere to a syllabic count of 5-7-5 because after all, it often is translated from its origin in Japanese… and so, of course, the English version won’t have the same number of syllables. But it does have those same tell-tale three lines.
My favorite from his haiku collection was the one that got a hearty laugh last night, just as he told us it tickles the fancy of school children when he shares it with them. Shows you where my maturity level is, right? Or maybe it is reminiscent of finding our puppy’s mess in the house – ah, house training is such a challenge!
bare feet skilled at finding cat puke in the dark
Mike Gibbons wrote the preface to Chris’ #2 book. In his commentary he said, “… take your time with this book, these seasonal discoveries in American haiku form. Spare and compact poems are best consumed slowly, thoughtfully, just like the Buddhist tradition they sprang from, snapshots – bird tracks on snow.”
I like that… “bird tracks on snow.” Do you relate?
In both of his books, Chris La Tray separates the writing into the four seasons. This one would be in the winter section, of course.
fresh snow and ice the bleary party-goer turns for home
Haibun is a poetic form that includes a prelude in prose followed by a haiku. Here is one of my favorites from HIs book #2.
“A visit to Walden Pond with swimming. The trees surrounding the pond are red and gold and green and every shade in between. Leafy reflections ripple across the surface of the water. I feel no less reverent for having visited before. In the year’s final quarter it remains hot and humid, and the beach is populated with swimmers. Who am I to resist?”
face down the naturalist writes our world
This “naturalist” is a proud member of the Little Shell Tribe of Chippewa Indians. He lives near Missoula, Montana. His writing reflects his Native American background, his love of nature, his talent in the art of short-form poetry, and as one reviewer said, “his humor, sensitivity and clear eye for ‘what is’…” (Holly Wren Spaulding).
I thank the Whites for inviting me and allowing me to share this delightful evening with them. I’m gonna go now and curl up with his “One-Sentence Journal.” See ya later.
Today I received an invitation to attend: Chris La Tray, Montana Poet Laureate AT THE ELLING HOUSE, VIRGINIA CITY, MT
APRIL 27, 7-9PM
Chris La Tray, Poet, Storyteller
My friend, Ann White, sent me this description of our state’s poet laureate along with an invitation to attend. I am excited about going. Reading this blurb about LaTray inspired the poet in me… read on:
La Tray is a Métis storyteller and an enrolled member of the Little Shell Tribe of Chippewa Indians. He is the author of One-Sentence Journal: Short Poems and Essays from the World at Large. His next book, Becoming Little Shell will be published by Milkweed Editions in 2024.
Chris La Tray approaches the practice of poetry the same as he does the spiritual life of an Anishinaabe person: which is to say, if one lives an Anishinaabe life, with particular attention to the seven guiding principles of the Seven Grandfather teachings – Humility, Courage, Honesty, Wisdom, Truth, Respect, and Love – then every footstep becomes a prayer. Similarly, if one approaches poetry in a similar fashion, recognizing that everything that happens may be viewed as a poem, and that every moment in life is an experience best paid constant and careful attention to, then every footstep becomes a poem. Whether as words on a page or shared orally, poetry becomes another means for telling and sharing stories; La Tray’s programs exist to remind people that their stories matter, that they are the only ones who can properly tell them, and that poetry, however it is defined, is a beautiful means for doing so.
I was so inspired by “… every footstep becomes a poem…” that I contemplated those feet that created those footsteps and remembered my small feet and their paths when I was a child. I decided to try my hand at a poem before going tonight to be inspired by Chris La Tray. What do you think?
Visiting Life’s Back Corners
I see vividly our home White with green trim A raised tulip bed All tucked at the end of Fig Lane in Newman, California.
Clear in my rear view mirror Are my walks to kindergarten With my older sister, Sally And my afternoons With “Aunt Artie” in town.
I hear her animated voice Reading to me – and then Walking me to the library To select a few books Of my own to read to her.
I see our move from town To the house next to Grandma’s And feel my spine prickle As I run through the yard Chased by a riotous TomTurkey.
I taste the delicious fennel A treat we called “sweet anise” And feel the warm sun on my back As Sally and I sit on the porch Waiting for Mom to come.
In the back corner of my mind I remember Billy coming. A troublesome cousin whose parents Were getting a divorce. And I cringe at his destruction.
Laden with my meager belongings I sense the distress of another move Far out in God-forsaken smelly country Away from Grandma and first grade friends A long walk and an hour’s bus ride to a new school.
I see vividly Crows Landing Elementary School And remember the important lessons learned Mrs. Yetter, Ms. Horwedle, Mr & Mrs Marlow Excellent teachers who validated and inspired me Living still in the back corners of my mind.
Visiting life’s back corners Congers up warm and happy memories Of an idyllic Ozzie & Harriet childhood Any troubles fade into a hazy blur As every footstep becomes a poem.
See ya tomorrow after I experience Chris La Tray.
Sure wish you could join me as our footsteps to Virginia City’s Elling House become a new and vibrant poem. God Bless You, Ann, for inviting me!
Love, JanBeek
Ah, sweet memories Of me with my daddy in that smelly back country home. I’ll write about that another day…
I love the words of this hymn of grace. If you are in a place where you can tap on the arrow and hear it, I wholeheartedly recommend you do so. But, if you cannot link to it and listen, at least read these beautiful lyrics!
“Come and find the quiet center In the crowded life we lead, Find the room for hope to enter, Find the frame where we are freed. Clear the chaos and the clutter, Clear our eyes that we can see All the things that really matter. Be at peace and simply be.
Silence is a friend who claims us, Cools the heat and slows the pace. God it is who speaks and names us, Knows our being, touches base; Making space within our thinking Lifting shades to show the sun, Raising courage when we’re shrinking, Finding scope for faith begun.
In the spirit let us travel, Open to each other’s pain. Let our loves and fears unravel, Celebrate the space we gain. There’s a place for deepest dreaming, There’s a time for heart to care, In the Spirit’s lively scheming There is always room to spare.”
Words by Shirley Erena Murray Music attributed to B.F. White
You can live at peace Even in the midst of strife Find center in life
Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” He had also told His followers “…in this world you will have many troubles. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). So peace is not the absence of trouble; it is the presence of God.
Come and find your space. Yes, we have some room to spare! Come and visit us!
God bless you, my friend. You are in my heart of hearts, My quiet center.
