Straight From The Hart

  On this Father’s Day I want to pay homage to several men I have known over the years. So thankful for Christian men. Recently Milan and I were watching the Gaither program on PBS and Gordon Mote, this extremely talented totally blind singer and pianist, sang a song he wrote about a church janitor who came in each night and cleaned the church and had his own prayer meeting with the Lord using a prayer list he found on the pastor's desk. He sang about this janitor who didn't have to be "up front to get attention, he just wanted to work behind the scenes, doing what he could do best, emptying the trash, dusting the pews, so that others could come and worship the next day. It really touched my heart as I thought about the different men who worked at the Oakland Church behind the scenes, not seeking any glory or credit for themselves but just so the rest of us had a nice clean place to worship. I thought about my very special brother-in-law, Bill who spent so many hours in ...

  My most recent poem. In my prayer time this morning I noticed that so many on my prayer list were dealing with struggles and strife and stress and unrest, and I found myself praying after so many that you would make a pathway of peace. The words took hold in my mind, and this is the result. Written July 21, 2019 by Joan Rowden Hart THE PATHWAY TO PEACE When families are hurting and sometimes temper flares When blood ties are unravelling, , you wonder just who cares When those who should be closest don’t seem to want to share Dear Lord, please make a pathway to peace. When nations rise against nations, and folks are thinking war When diplomats are weary, nothing seems to work anymore When black and white are fighting, and the rich against the poor Dear Lord, please make a pathway to peace. When you lay in a manger the night the angels sang Peace among men they said, the courts of heaven rang When you saw in the future the cross from which you’d hang You died to make a pathway of p...

    Newspaper column 2018 Americans love reunions and welcome home ceremonies. Now that most of us have unrestricted access to the internet, including YouTube, we seem to have unending supply of emotional reunions when our military service men and women show up unexpectedly and surprise their children at school or elsewhere. Also popular are the videos of service members who arrive home and surprise their family pets and end up getting knocked to the ground by the exuberance of the dog in showing its happiness. It should come as no surprise to us why we enjoy these videos so much. It’s in our national DNA. Warapped up in those scenes of warmth and hugs and love are all the values we treasure - home, family, faith, God and country, patriotism, pride in who we are and our love of freedom and democracy. Never is the patriotism aspect of this national fervency more obvious than when we welcome home those men and women who have served their country in time of war when the c...

  SPRING IN THE OZARKS By Joan Hart The spring equinox arrived weeks ago And the sun began warming the earth Alerting the trees and the shrubs to awaken Tis the season to bring forth new birth. The gardens spring up in rejoicing, The lettuce and onions come through Awaiting the gardeners first picking, Awash in the morning’s first dew. A profusion of blooms fills the hillside, Reflections of the artist Monet A mingling of colors, indescribable In one glorious pattern arrayed. Green is spring’s favorite color Her palette overflows with its hues It’s verdancy bathes every hillside The trees overlapping in queues. The season is pregnant with promise Of bright summer days yet to come With beaches and playgrounds and picnics And games in the ball stadium Spring doesn’t stay long in the Ozarks Its days turn to summer too soon So we treasure each moment and smell every lilac As April and May turn to June. There is nothing like spring in the Ozarks, There’s just no better place to live The...

 AN OLD COUPLE'S HOUSE An Old Couple’s House  Have you ever been in an old couple’s house? Tis really a grand sight to see It’s an eclectic assortment of Ma  and Pa Kettle With a little bit of Fibber McGee. There are trashcans and Kleenex beside every chair Newspapers on tables stacked high There are piles of books waiting for a” just in case” moment And lamps bright for tired old eyes There are antiques and junque everywhere that you look And most are covered with dust And visitors have no comprehension Why we keep them, but we know we must Each one a reminder of days now gone by All the things we have loved through the years No meaning for others, but to us they are gold In our memories they bring happy tears The dishes are old, with faded vintage design The cups and the saucers don’t match The bowls of all sizes lopsidedly sit Now they’re part of just one mingled batch. The bed with mixed patterns of pillows and sheets Sits between bedside tables that hold All the pill...

  TOUCHES AND HUGS AND TEARS This world has become such a frightening place With conflicts o’er politics, global warming and race We all long to feel  just a loving embrace Of touches and hugs and tears. Friends seem so few and hard to find We reach out for comfort, seeking old ties that bind A time when people were friendly, and gentle and kind We so need touches, and hugs and tears. The warmth of  a hug in a feeling so close That comes from the heart of a loved one who knows The sadness you feel, and their sympathy shows In their touches, and hugs and tears. Tears are meant to be shared in times of despair They show us the nature of someone who cares They fall from the eyes as warm liquid prayers These days call for touches and hugs and tears. © Joan Rowden Hart 2021