At the Mount of Beatitudes

Photo credit: amite.photoshelter.com

BLESSED AT THE MOUNT OF BEATITUDES

Israel Pilgrimage—1986

At the Mount of Beatitudes

Wayne^[1] suggests we each find

a quiet spot to spend

time alone with God

so I stroll along a pathway

surrounding the church

built in the name of

the Lord’s great message

to the multitudes

In a few moments I hear baa baaing

and follow the sound to the top of a hill

with sheep and a shepherd in view below

I sit on a low wall

to watch and carefully listen

for the voice of my Shepherd

amid plaintive bleating

I, too, am one of His sheep

I, too, have things to tell him

and don’t want to miss

anything He might have to say

This is communion—

a lamb with her Shepherd

I bask awhile in sweet serenity

aware of a holy presence

as the sheep graze

and the shepherd, like Jesus

carefully tends his flock

Afterward, we pilgrims come together—

No one else heard the sheep

No one else saw the shepherd

The interlude was for me alone

a gift from my God—

a simple blessing

to one little lamb He loves

Maude Carolan Pych

---

[1] Wayne Monbleau—Pilgrimage leader and host of “Let’s Talk About Jesus” radio program.

The Metamorphosis of a Butterfly

Photo credit: walldevil.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

Have You Been to Ocean Grove?

Summers are supposed to be slow and lazy,

but not this one, so far, for me...

I'm still waiting to slip away

to my favorite New Jersey beach town,

Ocean Grove.

Here's a poem about a few good reasons to go there:

Photo credit: examiner.com

CAMP MEETING WEEK

An hour and a world away

is a charming place we love to stay,

where time stands still a little while,

in fact, some call it, “God’s Square Mile.”

Our spiritual retreat vacation

at this gem within our nation

is where we find more than we seek,

at Ocean Grove, Camp Meeting Week.

The Great Auditorium’s surrounded

by quaint tent houses, abounded

by flower gardens, every hue;

coral, magenta, lavender blue.

Great preachers come from far and near,

expectant pilgrims come to hear

the preaching and angelic choir

as the great pipe organ sends its fire

of resounding music through the air,

inviting all who will to prayer.

All this takes place beside the sea

in a grove of sweet tranquility.

Stroll tented lanes in ocean breeze,

past tabernacle, B & Bs;

Victorian landmarks give a show

of “painted ladies” row on row.

Visit eateries, little stores

and take the garden trolley tour.

This Jersey shore town gives to each

respite, chapels, sandy beach,

a quiet boardwalk and pavilion,

where perhaps, more than a million

over the years have stopped and heard

Gospel concerts and God’s good Word.

So come, find more than you may seek

at Ocean Grove, Camp Meeting Week.

Maude Carolan Pych

I Think Jesus Laughed a Lot...

Image credit: quotesgram.com

JESUS LAUGHED

Each of us has our own concept of Jesus—

As for me, I like to think He laughed a lot

Yes, I picture Jesus throwing his head back

with a wide winsome smile

and laughing heartily from the gut

and I think He did it often

I know it doesn’t say so in Scripture

but still, I imagine the One

Who hung out with the twelve

shared some mighty amusing stories

around the campfire on starry summer evenings

I figure He even occasionally bore the brunt

of good natured razzing by the brethren

as they passed around roasted fish

and barley loaves on the shore of the Galilee

A guest at parties and weddings

Jesus was actually accused

of being a winebibber and glutton

He wouldn’t have received

those kinds of invitations

and that kind of reputation

if He had been solemn and grim

and speaking of wine, I’m quite certain

no somber individual would have

turned H2O into the fruit of the vine

so a wedding feast could proceed

with expected merrymaking and

no embarrassment for the host

Oh! I’m sure Jesus was great fun to be with—

that mothers handed babies to Him

that He kissed them, blessed them

chucked their chins and tickled their tummies

causing them to giggle and coo

I picture children climbing up on His lap

and being bounced on His knees

as He told stories about Jonah and Daniel

I’ll bet He even tossed a leather ball

back and forth with the neighborhood lads

and when someone approached Him

with despair and grief and longing

my mind’s eye sees Him

wrapping His loving arms around

the one in need—

turning sorrow into hope

Oh! It’s true, Jesus got plenty stirred up

with righteous indignation—

even knocked over vendor tables

in the Temple courts

and vented his anger vehemently

at hypocritical Pharisees

but this was the world His Father created

and loved so much

that He sent Him here

to save

Yes, I’m sure He laughed a lot

in spite of the fact

the dreaded Cross stood before Him

because He knew His mission

and of the joy to come

Indeed, the joy

for what He would accomplish for us

was already in Him

Yes, Jesus knew there was a time to laugh

and a time for anger

as well as a time to weep

Oh! I am touched by His humanity—

No wonder I love Him

Maude Carolan Pych

Baptized Where Jesus Was Baptized

Pilgrims waiting to be baptized
in the Jordan River

AT THE JORDAN RIVER

Israel Pilgrimage—1987

The pilgrims line up

at the popular baptismal site

on the banks of the Jordan

donned in flowing white robes

rented from a vendor

on the way in

One by one our rabbi[1]

listens to words of testimony

and dips each believer backward

as their brothers and sisters

sing softly on the shore

After they emerge

washed clean in that murky old river

they shed their rented robes

and are funneled through

a narrow aisle

where souvenir bottles

of Jordan River water

where olive wood sheep

and olive wood shepherds

tee shirts and postcards

and holy this and blessed that

are offered—

for a price

Our driver hurries us along

beckons us to the bus

The motor’s running

Quick! Or you’ll miss the camel ride

through the wilderness tonight!

And despite renting and hawking

despite murky water

and tight tour agendas, we know

the sincere emersion

of each contrite sinner

has filled the heavens

with hallelujahs

this glorious day

Maude Carolan Pych

---

[1] Messianic Pastor/Rabbi Jonathan Cahn of Beth Israel Worship Center at the Jerusalem Center, Wayne, NJ.

Happiness is...A Bowl of Bings!!!

Photo by Maude

CHERRIES

July.  Bing season.

Shop-Rite displays a cart inside the entrance

brimming with thousands of tantalizing,

plump, succulent rubies,

only ninety-nine cents a pound, this week.

Pick one by its slim green stem,

pluck it deliciously through your teeth,

bite into its firm, smooth skin

into its luscious, juicy flesh.

Nibble around the cherrystone.

God could’ve sustained us with manna

and perhaps some quail,

but His bounty spreads before us

filling shelves and cases, aisle after aisle,

so commonplace, we hardly wonder at His generosity.

Maude Carolan

Happy Birthday, America!

Flashback...4th of July, 1984

Frederick Leo Harris, master crane operator
who removed the original torch from the Statue of Liberty
July 4, 1984

UNCLE FRED AND THE TORCH OF MISS LIBERTY

In memory of Frederick Leo Harris

Uncle Fred was an unassuming kind of guy—

a master crane operator who ran

a long-necked crane for Canger, Inc.

He never boasted about it

didn’t speak of the special skills required

or dangers or the scope

of projects he was working on

nor did we even think to ask

except perhaps to inquire, conversationally

about where he was working

It could have been Jersey

or New York or sometimes Pennsylvania

He just put on his work clothes each morning

put in his eight hours, and came home

to their three room apartment

in Paterson, every night for dinner

On the 4^th of July in 1984

Uncle Fred was the engineer

chosen to remove the original torch

from the hand of Lady Liberty

That particular Independence Day

marked the start of restorations

on the Statue of Liberty, with completion

targeted for her 100^th birthday, in 1986

I don’t recall our uncle telling us

about it in advance. If he had

we undoubtedly would’ve been there

with our young children

to witness his feat

He probably dressed for work that morning

just like every other day

had his coffee, drove into the city

got himself to Liberty Island

and quietly set about doing  

exactly what a master crane operator

would be expected to do

There was a special ceremony

that Independence Day

with pomp and circumstance

a brass band and dignitaries—

and in the cab of the tall crane

hunched over the controls

sat our Uncle Fred, confidently

doing what needed to be done

to expertly bring down the old torch

The honor bestowed upon him

was completely lost on our Aunt Carol—

She was at home and unhappy

because he had to work on the holiday

and therefore they had to miss out

on normal 4^th of July festivities

like a parade or a cook-out or fireworks

When a news reporter called

to ask her some questions

she let him know exactly how she felt

and what she said was directly quoted

in the newspaper the following day

It wasn’t until she saw a picture of him

standing next to the old torch

on the front page of the Paterson News

that she realized the illustrious way

he spent the 4th. Suddenly

she became overcome with pride

and fussed over him to no end

even though, I’m certain, Uncle Fred

could easily have done without

anybody fussing over him, at all

The original torch is on permanent display

in the base of the Statue of Liberty

with a plaque telling of its removal

and the statue’s restoration that followed

It includes no mention of our uncle’s name

which, surely, would not have bothered him

but we know, and we’re proud

and this poem is written to keep

that special memory of him alive

Maude Carolan Pych