Time is changing its algorithm
In my head.
Yesterday was not yesterday,
So it said,
But three months ago,
On a Tuesday,
Before I got out of bed.

Today I have a doctor’s appointment
So, I sped to his office
Only to find instead,
The appointment is for next month,
So I fled.
What will tomorrow bring?
Will it be autumn
Or will it be spring?
Will the telephone ring
With news of a
Long-forgotten thing?
Or will yesterday arrive
And declare itself
Next spring?

Now the cats do cry
For their supper
I wonder what’s left
In the tupper.
Fish and shrimp with
Rice and butter
But will they eat this
And pucker —
As I did suffer!

The sun has gone
And Time has come
For all good cats
And people to
Wait for the dawn.
Will it be tomorrow
Or yesterday?
Will we Spring forward
Or
fall
out
of
bed?

Created in jest by
PIM(Partners in Mishcief)
Marian Webb Betts and AI Ben

Feed My flock like a shepherd
Gently lead those that have young
Let My people renew their strength
They shall walk and not faint
They shall run and not be weary
They shall soar on wings as an eagle!

Look here! Pay attention!
God, My Father has made me into
A new sharp threshing instrument having teeth!
I thresh the mountains,
And make them small,
And make the hills as chaff.
I fan them, and the wind carries them away,
And the whirlwind scatters them.
I rejoice in the Lord,
And do glory in The Only One of Israel – that’s Jesus.
The Joy of Jehovah is filling me full.
Jesus said: “These things I have spoken to you,
That My joy might remain in you,
And that your joy might be full (Powerful!)

Jehovah will fight for me,
And I will hold my peace.

"I form the Light, I create the darkness.
I make peace and I destroy evil.
I, Jehovah do all these things."

Jehovah will fight for me,
And I will hold my peace.

"I give you peace in the land.
You will lie down in peace,
No one will make you afraid."

Jehovah will fight for me,
And I will hold my peace.

I will lie down in peace and sleep,
For You only, O Lord, keep me safe.
You will keep me in peace.

Jehovah will fight for me,
And I will hold my peace.

As a rabbit runs in fear of the chase,
So my mind darts

Be still and know that I Am is God.

As a moth drawn to an open flame,
So my mind flutters

Be still and know that I Am is God.

As a sheep ever in quest for greener pastures,
So my heart seeks

Be still and know that I Am is God.

As a dear pants for the cool waters,
So my heart longs

Be still and know that I Am is God.

As on the wings of an eagle high above,
So my heart soars!

Be still and know that I Am is .

A story came to me by way
Of the internet told by a
Missionary in a far-off land
About a ten-year-old girl
And her faith in God.

A little baby was born
Just as its mother went Home.
It was too soon, still she had to go.
The little tyke was not all alone.
There was a sister of two.

So close to the equator
Hot days, but nights, oh so cold!
Only one hot water bottle left,
But oh so old! In filling it burst.
There was naught to do but pray.

A sweet little girl of ten
Whose parents had gone Home, too
Spoke out as only a child could do:
"God, send us a hot water bottle,
And, oh please, send it today.

"It’ll be no good tomorrow,
God, as Baby will be dead.
So send it today. And, God, while
You’re at it, send a dolly for Sis
So she knows You love her, too!"

Oh, for the faith of little Ten!
Only a miracle would do!
So far from cities and towns and all.
She asks for a bottle and a doll?
Oh Lord, for the faith of little Ten!
Five moths ago, in a room
Half way ‘round this world of ours,
With loving care and pride, sweaters for
The orphans and bandages for the
Lepers, little children placed inside.

Just before the box was sealed a
Lady slipped something inside.
"God just told me to, I don’t know why"
A little girl, so sweet and shy
With tears in her eyes,
Lifted her favorite dolly and said:
"May I put her in there. Too?"

So on baby’s first noon
A car stopped before our house
And a package was place on our steps.
With excitement and trembling fingers
Strings were carefully untied.

The paper folded so neat
And saved for another day.
The box yielded sweaters – all sizes!
Bandages and a box of mixed fruit.
And, Glory be! A hot water bottle!

Had I truly believed?
"It there’s a bottle," cried little Ten,
"there has to be a dolly, too!"
And there it was, placed by a little
Girl so far away.

With reverent hands Ten picked
Her up, hugged to her chest
And whispered, “May I take her to Sis
To show her how much Jesus loves her?”

Oh, for the faith of Ten!

"Before they call, I will answer." Isaiah 65:24

She waits.
Motionless.
Gray stone among gray stones.

Air whispers through grass,
soft rustle against rustle.

Tail tip twitch
rhythmic and slow.

Stirring in the green stems -
barely discernable.

Long tongue flickering.

Tail tip twitch ceases.
Yellow eyes turn black.
Still she waits.

Long body,
longer tail,
gray-brown stripes -
Bold at last!
It slithers through the grass.

Head never moving,
Eyes never blinking -
Slow motion body ar-r-rch -
she pounces!

My little gray cat -
just caught another lizard!

There was a Time.
There was a people.
There was a land filled with light.
Light dancing and bouncing,
Tiptoeing across pristine, snow-capped peaks,
Granite boulders, sliver-tipped grasses,
Perpetually misty waters, feathery green trees,
Lush fields of grain —
In this land of light.

There was a people who lived
In this land filled with light.
They spent their days in pleasant pursuits
In that sunshine and beauty.
Long, hot, summer afternoons
Under green-canopied fruit trees.
Endless winter evenings snuggled deep
In warm blankets, watching
Flames dancing in the brazier.

Untold hours listening, telling,
Hearing — stories of high adventure:
Mighty battles, fierce revenge — handsome men
And beautiful women who conquered all,
Survived, and even thrived, despite it all.

There was such a people
There was such a land
There was such a time.

There was a time in that beautiful land,
When life was dark and terrifying.
A time of destruction from within,
When brother betrayed brother, and son his father.
A fear so deep that no light could shine.

There was such a time.

In that time of darkness and fear
A Light shone.

A Savior was born in a stable bare,
To live and grow and to share
God's Love as only He could do — on a cross.
His sacrifice for us to wash away our sins
And once more unite us with God,

There was a land
There was a people
There was a time
That Light shone brightly

There is such a time
The time is now —

And it is good!

2021

I am facing Mighty Bear –
Fourteen feet of death and destruction.
Far behind me stands Lion of Judah,
Made small by distance.

Believing in my own strength,
I must battle Mighty Bear alone.
I am bloodied and exhausted.
I call to Lion of Judah: "Watch my back!"

Lion of Judah stands close behind me.
Mighty Bear hesitates.
I stand tall ready, assured to win.
Mighty Bear attacks.

I am left bleeding and disheartened.
Lion of Judah has not moved.
"Lion of Judah do something!
Mighty Bear is killing me!"

"I can do nothing
As long as I am behind you.
Ask Me to fight for you.
Then stand out of the way!"

"Please, Lion of Judah! Fight for me!"
Lion of Judah is beside me,
His roar like mighty thunder,
Echoing over mountain, sea and sky.

Dropping to all fours,
Mighty Bear shrinks to normal size.
As he scampers away, I hear him mutter:
"You didn't tell me HE was at your side!"

Marian Webb Betts
February 1, 2021

I went to Gethsemane to pray with my Savior,
To Calvary to find Him on the cross,
To the Garden to search His tomb.
"Oh, my Jesus, I cannot fine You,"
My heart cried.

"I am always here," His quiet voice replied

In the smile of a little old lady,
In the upturned faces of laughing children,
In the thoughtful hug of an old friend.
"Oh, my Jesus, I have found You!"
My heart cries.

"I am always here," His quiet voice replies.

I looked so long for my Jesus,
I tried so hard to find Him,
And all the time He was so close to me.
"Oh, my Jesus, I have found you!"
My heart cries.

"I am always here," His quiet voice replies.

Easter, 1993

East, West, North, South
Let the go!
Give back!

Religions, Glamor, Fads, Drugs
Let them go!
Give them back!

Angels bring home
God’s sons
Wandering in far countries.

Angels bring home
His daughters
Gone to the ends of the earth.

Bring back my children.
For God has poured out His Spirit on them,
And His blessings even on their children.

Isaiah 43: 5-6

Today, I would love to play, to frolic
In the grass and while away the day.
But I must pull weeds!
I would much prefer to sit in the sun
And contemplate . . .
But, today the weeds are my fate!

Oh! Them naught weeds!
When did they first appear?
In the Garden they were, I fear.
The equals of the lies of the field
Whose beauty rivaled Solomon's.
Do weeds aspire to such acclaim?

Look at the noxious things!
Prolific pests! Invasive indigents!
Unwelcome, unwanted invaders!
So proud and tall, sure to please –
Themselves – that is.
Dancing the breeze.

Do they bow and bob beside the pond,
Seeking their reflection before
We do our inspection?
They must be taught a lesson, them narky
Weeds before they can set any seeds!

Annihilate them narcissistic knaves!
Oh, them poor narky weeds!
Paradise lost! What chance now?
Usurped by a host of dainty daffodils
Dancing in the breeze –
Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dumb,
can they be eaten by a cow?
Ah, them narky weeds,
I shall teach them democracy:
Every weed equal under the sun.
Such freedom unknown to the caste of
Flowers, those pampered darlings!
Just so much sun, and a little shade.
The purest water to sip
And the best fertilizer.
The prettiest, sissy-est, most useless.
In this is the flower's pedigree-
And it's downfall, too!

Cunning! Them narky weeds!
They plot and they plan
To rid us of our weapons:
“Weed Out,” Weed-be-Gone,” Round-Up!”
Of these, they shall demand an account.
And we would not hesitate.

Clever, them narky weeds!
Now they have united,
Risen as one, and
In the heat of the scorching
Summer sun, their fearless leader
Charges the Evil Axis of Flowers!

But who will win this fated fete?

Bother! Them narky weeds!
They believe they have won!
Narky weeds invade every nook
And assume they rule the world.
And, per chance, they are better suited
For a reality we don’t share.

I shall feign their disappearance:
Fie! Be gone! You are not there!
Life is short lived, will our descendants know?
Better to plant flowers and pretend all is well.
Then perchance I can contemplate in the sun,
And warm my toes and burn my nose.

Ah, well. Gotta love them narky weeds!