Straight From The Hart

WHO WILL WEEP FOR THE CHILDREN? It seems everyone has a cause today, But who’s going to plead for the children? Lapel ribbons of every color are on display But who’s wearing one for the children? Don’t want that baby that’s on the way? Who’s thinking about life for the children? Just kill her before she gets here, that’s what they say, Doesn’t anyone realize these are children? Husbands and wives fight to get their own way, But who’s shedding tears for the children? The lawyers want their money, that’s all they say But who pays the price for the children? Too busy to go with them to church once a week? So who’s going to pray for the children? It’s more leisure time, more adult toys that they seek But who’s  taking time for the children? The churches are busy with grownups to save Are they looking out for the children? Bus kids are dirty, don’t know how to behave. Nobody wants to sit with these children. Parents conceive and d

When Kittens Play In Heaven When kittens play in heaven, I’m sure they have such fun; Heaven’s boundaries are limitless with lots of room to run, The doggies are so friendly, they love them every one. Their "fe-lines" are never hurt, when kittens play in heaven. When kittens play in heaven upon the golden streets; The angels never scold them, they think they are so sweet; Only when they climb the Tree of Life do a heavenly frown they meet ‘Cause even God thinks they’re cute, when kittens play in heaven. When kittens play in heaven, they fly on furry wings; They run across the angels’ harps, they love to hear the strings Of heavenly music intertwined with their little kitty-paw "pings"; Their life is pure purrfection, when kittens play in heaven. When kittens play in heaven, their favorite game is hide and seek; They chase and bat each other, then run away to peek From out behind a cloud where they look so very meek; You know

THE PICTURE You were only 14 in the picture, you said, And Daddy was 18, with hair  of  bright red. What were you thinking, as you stood there together, In the year 41 in summer's bright weather? In another short year you would be man and wife, And another year later you would bring forth new life; And that new life was me.  What must you have thought When you looked at the baby whom your love had brought? Did you talk about my future when you mentioned my name? Did you think how I'd grow into the woman I became? I look at the picture in the frame on the wall; Of the 62 years which have passed, and of all The rest of the family who would come after me From the union of two people who once stood 'neath a tree. And pledged all their love, shared a home and a bed, A pretty young woman and the man with hair red. I see me in The Picture in the form of your face And Lois' son Frankie could stand in Dad's place. And Toni's red hair, passed on

REFLECTIONS ON TURNING 60 Do you remember when 60 was old? When skin looked wrinkled and rolled? But now that it’s us We wonder why all the fuss We’re still young and charming and bold. Our sense of humor remains Even with all of our pains We find beauty in wrinkles Senior eyes still have twinkles Though we ache in our bones when it rains. Our brain cells still work pretty good Our taste buds still celebrate food Our teeth may be false Other parts we have lost But our motor’s the same ‘neath the hood. Now we’re 6o, so what’s the big deal? Though sometimes it doesn’t seem real We have lived through so much But if we think it’s rough Just think how our parents must feel! Joan Rowden Hart written June 2003

WHEN PRISONERS OF WAR COME HOME On a beautiful Palm Sunday, on a sunny April day Seven brave American soldiers were released from out harm’s way Families danced in celebration, shouts of praise to God on high Happy reunions in the planning, tears of joy in every eye. Just three weeks ago on Sunday, the enemy took them all away With evil gloating they were brandished, like a trophy on display But friends and family kept the faith, always praying without cease Til in an abandoned Iraqi cabin, their faith was met with sweet release No more dread of terrorist torture, no more fear of cruel death No more worry o’er the future, when might come their final breath Free at last and homeward bound, seven rescued soldiers come And America rejoices as our POW’s head home. Satan, too, takes Christians prisoner, accuses, tortures, fills with fear Holds us captive  to despair, intimidates us with his sneer. Faith in God will be our rescue, strong belief

Ode To Ollie In The Fall For Ollie’s first Fall he was kittenish and bright. Just a three month old baby, a furry ball of delight. He would run through the house, and play hide and seek, We would look everywhere, then out he would peek With a soft teasing meow and those huge owlish eyes. Though we knew where he was, we pretended surprise. Though he was born in a barn, just a common farm cat He thought he was royalty, and he acted like that. He never came when we called him just plain  “kitty, kitty” He would sit like a statue, with his tail curled so pretty. He was named for a Colonel, a most important man; He was Oliver North’s namesake (because we were his fans). He almost didn’t make it through his second year’s Fall; We put him in our basement with our dog, big and tall Who didn’t like this new critter eating out of his bowl So he chased him quite fiercely, Ollie’s death was his goal. Round and round in the basement, cat fur flying high Ti

THE MUSIC OF LIFE A baby is born, and when she cries The mother sings her lullabyes, Life’s song begins, and the music goes on. The toddler grows stronger every day; She learns to sing as she runs to play. Life’s song brings laughter, and the music goes on. God saves her soul, and the angels sing; The bells of heav’n in harmony ring; She sings of Jesus, and the music goes on. Her life takes shape, the young woman is blest With marriage and family, life’s at its crest. Life’s song becomes mellow, and the music goes on. Some times her life takes a turn for the worse She has to sing a different verse In a minor key, but the music goes on. As the years pass by she faintly hears A melody familiar to her homesick ears; It’s the heavenly choir, and the music goes on. Life comes to an end, she hastens to meet The Saviour who’s waiting, she kneels at His feet And all of God’s singers join  in her song And eternity’s music goes on.

MEMORIES OF HEMINGWAY I see them move in the shadows; Just a glimpse, then out of my sight; Sometimes it’s the white-tipped tail That I see in the dark of the night. The movements are quiet and fleeting; I see them in nighttime and day; They are figments of my imagination; Sweet memories of our Hemingway. For so long he walked down the hallways; Each house that we knew was his home; He was king of our castle wherever we lived; Through each room on each level he’d roam. Never asking for too much attention; Just as long as he knew we were there; Just a full plate of food made him happy; He didn’t like his dish to run bare. His “handshake” was really a “footshake” He pawed on our feet to say “Hi”; Then one day the time came to take him, It was so hard to tell him goodbye. So the shadows I see moving quickly Just out of the reach of my eyes Don’t scare me , but bring back sweet memories Of Hemingway  and then my heart cries.

MEMORIES OF MEMORIAL DAY It was just an everyday phone call, It was just a simple request; But, oh, the memories it triggered, Memories so precious and blessed. My grandmother’s beautiful flowers, peonies and lilacs and flags, We picked them and handled them  gently, laid in baskets and boxes and bags. Through April and May she would tend them, as they grew with bright buds and  full blooms We children  were not allowed  near them, we were tantalized by their perfume. Eagerly, we would wait for that morning that she called Decoration Day; That’s what her flowers were grown for as April came, and turned into May. We usually walked to the cemetery carrying baskets and bags filled with flowers; We looked at all the gravestones with interest, sometimes we would stay there for hours While all of the adults were visiting with friends they had not seen for years. We never really comprehended the meaning of their laughter and hugs, and the tears. I ju

LONGSUFFERING Longsuffering – Our God is so gracious; Longsuffering – He knows our weak frame; Longsuffering – His love is so patient; Longsuffering – When we call on His name. Forgiving – Our God is all-loving; Forgiving – His blood covers all; Forgiving – Though we fail Him completely; Forgiving – When we stumble and fall. Restoring – Our God is so powerful; Restoring – Bringing healing again; Restoring – Picking up broken pieces; Restoring – Giving joy for our pain. So merciful – Our God is all-caring; So merciful – To us in our sin; So merciful – Though we don’t deserve it; So merciful – Our lost souls to win. Sustaining – Our God never fails us; Sustaining – Giving strength for each day; Sustaining – His resources are boundless; Sustaining – Each step of the way. Interceding – Our Saviour is pleading; Interceding – He watches each deed; Interceding – He stands by the Father; Interceding – For us in our need. Written

LIVING IN ANOTHER DIMENSION Do you ever have the feeling when at His feet you're kneeling; And to you He's still revealing all the wisdom of His Love, That you've entered ANOTHER DIMENSION? When you feel you are no longer of this world, and the other's stronger In its pulling, and you hunger to know and see it's glory, You've entered ANOTHER DIMENSION OF SPACE. When a sense of urgency o'ertakes you, when the sin of this world breaks you; When the shortness of the days makes you Aware there is so much more to do; You've entered ANOTHER DIMENSION OF TIME. When His voice gets your attention and His name is too sacred to mention Aloud, and you feel the tension Of this world just slipping away. You've entered ANOTHER DIMENSION OF HEARING. When your eyes take on new vision, and your heart beats with a mission, And your mind struggles with a decision That you know God wants you to make, You've entered ANOTHER

Just As I Am Just as I am – a heartbroken sinner Just as I am – with my guilt and my shame Just as I am – asking you to forgive me Just as I am – trusting your precious name. Just where I am – in my time of deep trouble; Just where I am – in my sin and despair; Just where I am – in my helpless condition; Just where I am – hear my cry, hear my prayer. Just when I’m so much in need of your mercy; Just when I’m failing the dear ones I love; Just when I’m suffering temptations of Satan; Just when I’m sinking, then I look above. Just what I am – you alone know my future; Just what I am – you can help me become; Just what I am – one of your precious children; Just what I am – you will lead me safe home. Written by Joan Rowden Hart, April 1979

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JOYCE Walking to school along Wood Street each day, We gossiped, we chattered, even  argued on the way. But always interested in hearing what the other had to say; O, what great memories we share. Staying all night when we had a school break, Eating green beans and pickles and your mom’s chocolate cake, All night study sessions, trying to stay awake; O, what great memories we share. We played the piano, and sang, and told jokes; We shared family outings, just like all other folks; Ate hamburgers and french fries and drank all of those cokes; O, what great memories we share. There were hayrides and church camps and Laclede County fair; When I felt sad and lonely, I knew you would be there; When other friends caused me pain,  I knew you would still care; O, what great memories we share. We talked about teachers and boyfriends and grades And ballgames, and shopping trips, has it been four decades? But the friendship we wer

With God and the E-Group High school graduation was a long time ago. We don’t always think clearly and we move kind of slow. We can’t hide our age, though we hide what we weigh; But with God and the e-group, we’re doing ok. We’re grandmas and grandpas, and some even great. We concentrate mostly on what we just ate. Our bodies are expanding, our hair’s turning grey; But with God and the e-group, we’re doing ok. Some of our gang have already retired; With VF closing, some will have to re-hire; Some are working part time, some all of the day; But with God and the e-group, we’re doing ok. We keep up with family, go to church where we pray; We cheer on our grandkids, no matter which game they play; Our computers keep us going, no matter what time of day; ‘Cause with God, and the e-group, we’re doing ok. By Joan Rowden Hart on October 20, 2002 , inspired by Ed Cook, a member of our class of 61  email group 

FARRELL’S POEM I’ve been writing poems for many a year, Some have been funny, and some through my tears; But writing for you has me over a barrell – I can’t find a word that rhymes with Farrell. I wanted to tell you I count you my friend, That I love and respect you, and will till the end, It would have helped me so much if your name had been Darrell ‘Cause I can’t find a word that will rhyme with Farrell. I’d like to relate how you retired from John Deere, Built Minnie a house when you retired here, If you’d been born at Christmas I could sing you a carol But I can’t find a word that will rhyme with Farrell. So I’m doing my best to make this poem rhyme; Even though it has taken far way too much time; I’m sending it to you, though my life be in peril Just can’t find a word that rhymes with Farrell. A Hart-felt sonnet written for Farrell Thomas, a member of my church.  Written August 28, 2001

The Contrasts of Life The trees of fall stand branch to branch, They guard each house I pass; The silhouettes change as the leaves give way Fast falling on the grass. Their brightness overwhelms me now But the trunks more clearly show; Each day that comes make me more aware This beauty is soon to go. So the more I see the darkness In contrast to the leaves The more brilliant their color seems And it's a loss my heart does grieve. Come spring the verdant green will bud On every branch and limb And all we'll see is the velvety lush Hiding the trunks so dim. Life is like that, with days of beauty; Not a cloud in the sky can be seen; The lushness of pleasure overwhelms our senses; To our eyes everything appears green. But when times of sorrow o'ertake us And our spirits sink so low, We remember that life demands contrasts To allow the beauty to show. Written November 2, 2002 by Joan Rowden Hart with deep appreciation to the classmates of my

IT'S AUTUMN TIME AGAIN The dying leaves come tumbling down; Their colors mingling with the brown; Transforming lawns throughout the town; It's autumn time again. The mornings come so crisp and cool; A foretaste of the winter's cruel; And all the children are in school; It's autumn time again. The hickory nuts from the trees so tall Roll across my roof like a bowling ball; I sit in my study and hear them fall; It's autumn time again. The harvest food’s piled on tables high; The apples await the cinnamon pie; And old Jack Frost is standing by; It's autumn time again. So you and I have our seasons, too. Those summer days, we were young and new; But now our days are numbering few; We're in our autumn time. So harvest comes, and come it must; Our fruitful lives will return to dust; But new life will come, that is our trust In Christ, as our autumn comes. Written by Joan Rowden Hart, 9-14-02

All this modern technology has it’s good side, we can see Computers, Email, PDAs, digital cameras and TV But more and more I miss the things that made good sense to me Oh, how I miss those good ole days. Remember when you brought your items up to the check out clerk Who rang up the old cash register, which never failed to work It didn’t spit your check back out, never made you feel like a jerk Oh, how I miss those good ole days. If you bought 10 cans of cat food, all at fifteen cents a can The old cash register just multiplied and came up with a total grand Didn’t matter if tuna or chicken, didn’t even care about the brand Oh, how I miss those good ole days. Nowadays, these bar codes have to put in every detail The big computer in the warehouse so easily gets derailed But why is it that its database can’t remember what’s on sale Oh, how I miss those good ole days. Remember when you could go to your bank and get your cancelled checks When custo