Straight From The Hart

Joan’s Philosophy of Life We caught a pesky squirrel tonight Our attic he did plunder Every time we went upstairs His prancing sounded like thunder. The trap was set, the bait was placed It didn’t take long to do it As soon as he smelled the fresh peanut bait His little paws took him right to it We carried him out to the old pickup truck To give him a ride to the country To let him out far away from town So he could find him a fun tree But he got loose in the pickup truck We didn’t know what we would do How would we get him back in that cage Should we call the conservation crew? Then I had an idea about how we could catch him It sounds kind of crazylike, but I climbed right up in the pickup with him, And then I acted just like a nut. So when you have days that about do you in When your life seems to be in a rut When you are surrounded and feel overwhelmed Just give up and  act like a nut. You might be surprised how muc

A MAN WHO CAN PRAY I walked into the church last night and heard my husband’s voice He was talking with the Lord again, it made my heart rejoice For every time I hear him pray, I’m glad I made the choice To marry a man who can pray. He prays with earnest passion for those outside the fold: He prays with tearful pleadings for those with hearts grown cold: He prays and doesn’t care who hears, he prays with courage bold: This world needs more men who can pray. A man who prays is a man among men, who stands out above the crowd: For no man is ever taller than when his head is bowed: And no voice is ever more powerful than the man who prays out loud: And real men are the men who can pray. I walked into the church last night and in the stillness there I saw a man with head bowed low, his heart o’erwhelmed with care For me, for you, and for the church whose burdens we both share I’m so thankful for a husband who prays. Note:  I walked into the chur

Straight From The Hart By Joan Rowden Hart The  Paper   Chase How many of you remember The  Paper   Chase ? No, I’m not talking about the Oscar award winning 1973 movie starring Timothy Bottoms as a law school student named James T. Hart. I’m talking about a  paper   chase down Commercial Street in Lebanon about ten years earlier than that featuring a lawyer who had a  secretary named Joan Hart. It was a sunny Saturday morning in late spring when my boss, John F. Low, opened the large windows in his second floor law office above Dryer’s Shoe Store, to bring some fresh air into the office. The windows were on hinges and swung outward and as such were not equipped with screens. Directly below the waist high windows on the inside of his office was a large ledge about 18 inches deep which served as Mr. Low’s temporary storage for current cases consisting of large legal size filing folders stuffed full of legal documents and sheets torn from yellow legal pads with his unique and barely legi

Funny what you remember, but I the first time I saw a pregnant woman to get curious about was on Commercial St on a Saturday afternoon approximately in front of Dryer's Shoe Store. I was probably 6 or 7, and had been stuck with my grandmot her there for probably an hour or so while she visited with her sister, my Aunt Pearlie Smith, and my cousins. Aunt pearlie's oldest daughter, Jessie, was pregnant, probably with her first child, and she was wearing an old fashioned maternity dress, not a top, had a drawstring waist that you let out as you needed to and tied into a bow in front. I would have been about eye level with her tummy so all i had to do was stare and she was probably full term. i was fascinated! and as soon as we finally got away I asked my grandmother what was wrong with jessie's belly. it's strange I don't remember how the conversation went after that or how long it was until I realized what was "wrong" with it, but I remember vividly the day,

I'm often asked why Tears fall from my eyes When my prayers ascend to the throne; It's so easy for me To shed tears, don't you see; That's the way I make my needs known. For the tears that I shed In the prayers that I've said Have all been kept by Him In a bottle rare; He has placed them there He has never forgotten them. For every tear Is a liquid prayer That waters the seed that we sow. Through the good times and bad Whether happy or sad The tears help our prayers to flow. Feel a tug in your heart? Then let the tears start When you take to God all your cares. He knows what you need; He hears when you plead; For tears are just liquid prayers. Written by Joan Rowden Hart 12.17.01, based on Psalm 56:8, “Thou tellest my wanderings; put thou my tears into thy bottle; are they not in thy book?”   This poem was inspired by my dear friend, Betty Shanks of Farmington , Mo , who coined the phrase “liquid prayers” after I had preached a sermon