It's What Grandmas Do

 A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day...

Here are photos of my grandmother, Maude Lewis Walsh,

and the scrapbook she made for me in the early 1950s.

A poem about it follows.

THE SCRAPBOOK GRANDMA MADE FOR ME

 

I picked up my grandchildren

at Saint Mary’s elementary school

They tossed their heavy backpacks

into the back of the car

got in and fastened their seatbelts

They know the routine—

don’t need to be reminded anymore

 

As we drove off

I could hear them in the back seat

talking about Lent and fasting

Dean and Alana gave up electronics

Their big brother Logan

now in high school

gave up chocolate

Dean asked, “Grandma

what did you give up?”

 

I told Dean I didn’t give up

anything this Lent, instead

I give Jesus a gift of new poems—

Some days I spend quiet time

writing poems that give glory to Him

and every day I post

a Lenten poem on my blog

Dean said, “Wow! That’s a lot

of poems, Grandma!”

 

I explained that it’s perfectly fine

to give up things for 40 days, but

sometimes people do other things

like donating to a charity

or visiting the sick

or baking cookies for an elderly neighbor

anything that draws them closer to God

 

Then I thought about my own grandmother—

She lived next door

when I was growing up

Grandma loved the Lord

and often talked to me about Him

She even made me a special scrapbook

with a cardboard cover

that she decorated with flowers

she carefully cut

from a Burpee seed catalog

The scrapbook contained pictures of children

kittens and puppies, and Howdy Doody

but more importantly, it contained

the 11 chapter story by Charles Dickens

that he wrote for his children in the 1840s

called, The Life of Our Lord

The story was published as a serial

in the Paterson Morning Call, in the 1950s

 

I still have that scrapbook

still appreciate that Grandma took the time

to make it just for me

 

It’s the kind of thing grandmas do—

Important things like that

 

Maude Carolan Pych

Maude Carolan Pych

My book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" is available online

at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

For information go to www.maudecarolanpych.net.

"A Poem for Lent"

 A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day...

Image credit: heatonkent.com

A POEM FOR LENT

 

I scan Google Images

looking for a depiction of the Crucifixion

to illustrate a Lenten poem on my blog

I’m unable to look squarely at the pictures—

Many are so heart-wrenching, so gruesome

I have to turn away

 

I think of the four Gospels

providing matter-of-fact statements

to tell us Jesus was crucified

sparing us details

of His suffering

 

Oh, I’m well aware

it is 2000 years later

and no holds are barred

when it comes to portrayals of violence

I go to the movies

I watch TV

 

I’ve squirmed through

The Passion of the Christ

with my heart beating fast

and eyes tightly closed

during the bloodiest sequences

I’ve read A Doctor at Calvary[1]

in which each and every stain

on the Shroud of Turin

is elaborated upon

in minute medical detail

 

I do not need

more graphic words and pictures

My mind’s eye sees

His thorn-crowned Head

His nail-pierced hands

My mind’s ear hears

 

Father, forgive them…

          …why hast Thou forsaken Me?

It is finished.

 

My mind’s heart

feels His agony

 

At last, I click on an image—

a crossbeam, a circle of thorns

and three nails

 

I post it on the blog

insert my poem

 

and shudder

a most grateful shudder

that Jesus, my beloved Savior

endured that terrible Cross

for me

 

Maude Carolan Pych

---

[1] A Doctor at Calvary by Pierre Barbet, M.D., published by Image Books, a division of Doubleday & Co., Inc., Garden City, NY

To read more of Maude's inspirational poetry

for your Lenten journey...

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

For information go to www.maudecarolanpych.net.

Happy Purim!

A-Poem-a-Day

 Until Resurrection Day...

ACCEPTANCE

 

I accept this bitter cup

filled to the brim

with the wine

of sorrow

I'll take

and drink

it dry

 

For I have tasted

the sweet wine

of the red

grapes

of joy

the wine

of gladness

the wine

of blessing

 

I accept this cross—

 

I will lug its weight

upon my

bony shoulder

and trudge

the pathway

of travail

When

I misstep

and stumble

I'll call for help

 

My cross

is so, so small

compared to Yours

My bitter cup

sweet honey

All I need

to make it

Jesus

is Your hand

and Your deep

unfathomable

Love…

 

Maude Carolan

Chag Purim Sameach!

Image credit: youtube.com

QUEEN ESTHER, BRAVE & BEAUTIFUL

 

There’s a book in the Bible that’s a nail-biting thriller.

It’s often read at Purim. Some call it the Megillah.

There is one thing about it that some readers find quite odd—

in all the book’s ten chapters, there is no mention of God.

 

The heroine is Esther, a brave and beautiful queen

who saves her people, the Jews, from a diabolic scheme.

There’s another queen in the story, Vashti is her name;

she defied King Ahasuerus and brought upon him shame,

 

therefore, Queen Vashti was banished, and a new queen was sought.

The young virgins of Susa, to the citadel, were brought.

With oil of myrrh and spices, they were groomed and primped and primed

till the king selected the maiden he deemed most sublime.

 

Exquisite Esther found favor with him. Soon she was crowned

the new queen of Susa, regally bejeweled and begowned!

The fact that she was Jewish, the queen kept well concealed;

for like a papa, Mordecai said, “Keep your royal lips sealed!”

 

Mordecai had raised her like his daughter; an upstanding man—

He overheard a plot brewing against the king of the land,

so the murderous plot was foiled; hanged were the two thugs,

but Mordecai received no thanks, no reward and no hugs.

 

Hated was Mordecai by Haman, the aide to the king,

for the Jew would not bow down and to Haman homage bring.

Haman schmoozed with the king and received a promotion

but his hatred for the Jews stirred a sinister notion.

 

Haman devised a foul plan to annihilate the Jews.

This plot divulged to Mordecai was deep, dark, evil news.

Mordecai implored Queen Esther to go before the king

to beg him to halt Haman’s plan by the seal of his ring.

 

It was dangerous, indeed, for the woman he cherished,

but Queen Esther insisted, “If I perish, I perish!”

She called for her people and maids to keep a three-day fast,

then inhaled a deep breath and did something extremely rash—

 

She planned a lush banquet; invited her king and Haman.

Over wine, she revealed to the king, Haman’s evil plan.

The villain was sent to the gallows; hanged till he was dead

and dear old Mordecai had honors heaped upon his head!

 

The king affixed his seal to an edict that saved the Jews—

Throughout the kingdom of Susa that was the greatest news!

Now each Purim Esther gets a commemorative nod

and although He wasn’t mentioned, so does the hand of God!

 

Maude Carolan Pych

The above poem won the Spiritual Award for Poetry

at St. Catherine's Festival of the Arts in Ringwood, NJ.

Maude's book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Maude's book at Barnes & Noble, Woodland Park, NJ,

in the Christian Living section.

"I'm Grafted In"

 A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day...

I’M NOT JEWISH

 

except that the sap

which rises

from sturdy old olive roots

flows through the veins

of this grafted branch

 

I’m not Jewish

except for my flesh

which still shudders

at the Shoah

 (of sisters and brothers

of the natural branch)

and the same root

and swears

I’d have done something...

something

 

I’m not Jewish

except for my feet

which have walked

the holy, well worn pathways

in Eretz Yisrael

 

except for my fingertips

which pressed petitions

between stones

of the Western Wall

 

except for my ears

which perk to the cantor’s

chanting of the Shema

the Aaronic Benediction

the Kiddush

over bread and wine

 

except for my eyes

which look

upon the Lamb,

my Atonement

 

except for my lips

which chant

ancient baruchas

to HaShem

 

I’m not Jewish

except for my heart

which bears the cloven mark

of circumcision

 

and loves Yeshua,

the Jewish Messiah

Who was pierced

for my transgressions

Who shed

His precious Jewish Blood

for me

 

Maude Carolan

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

The book contains 95 poems 

about the Birth, Death & Resurrection of Messiah

written over a period of 30 years.

For information, go to www.maudecarolanpych.net.

The Binding of Isaac

 A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day...

Image credit: freemessianicbible.com

LOVE AND THE AKEDAH

The Binding of Isaac – Genesis 22

 

Take your son

your only son

whom you love…

 

Twenty-two chapters into Scripture

and it's the first time love is mentioned

as God tells Abraham

 

Sacrifice Isaac

as a burnt offering

 

What swirls

through the mind

of this old patriarch

(who after a hundred years

fathers the son

of God's promise…

the son he loves

and proudly watches grow)

What swirls as he swings

the sharp axe, splitting wood

 

It was three days journey

from Beersheba to Moriah—

Leaving his servants behind

Abraham hands Isaac

the bundled wood

and carries fire and knife

up the mount

himself

 

Avi, (my father)

where is the lamb?

 

God will provide the lamb

my son

 

Abraham erects an altar of stone

arranges the wood and binds the lad

(whose faith and obedience

must be at least as great as his own)

 

Unflinching before the God

he has finally come to trust

the aged patriarch

(known to lie

to save his own skin

known to try to pull off

God's covenant himself

when it seemed God was slow

in keeping His promise)

this same patriarch…

raises the glinting blade

above his son, his only son

whom he loves…

 

Split-second

to knife-fall

the angel of the Lord calls out

 

Abraham! Abraham!

Do not lay a hand on the boy…

 

The old man

who has proven he would

withhold nothing from his God—

drops the bloodless blade

unbinds and embraces Isaac

 

and there, tangled

in a thicket, struggles

the substitute sacrifice

…a ram

 

Two millennia later

God's Son

His only Son

Whom He loves

carries wood

of a crossbeam

up the very same mountain

 

No angel of the Lord

arrives last moment

to halt the hammerfall

No ram appears

in a thicket

 

For God so loves

the world

He provides…

 

His Son

His only Son…The Sacrificial Lamb

 

Maude Carolan

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!" by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

For information, go to www.maudecarolanpych.net

Let's Use Our Imagination...

A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day...

Image credit: cndajin.com

IMAGINE

 

Imagine worshipping a cooing one moment, whimpering the next, born to save us, sweet baby God, lying in a trough filled with scratchy straw, needing a diaper change

 

Imagine worshipping a stone-kicking, frog-in-pocket, sticky-fingered, tousle-haired God, gleefully splish-splashing through mud-puddles along a rocky Nazareth road

 

Imagine worshipping a nose-in-the-Scroll, confident little-boy-God, teaching in the Temple, confounding elders with astonishing Truths, as His parents search for Him

 

Imagine worshipping a rugged, long-haired, son-of-a-carpenter adolescent God, as He learns (ironically) to skillfully select woods and deftly wield a hammer and nails

 

Imagine worshipping a gregarious, life-of-the-party, wedding-guest God, Who miraculously turns stone jars of purification water into jars of finest wine at Cana

 

Imagine worshipping a child embracing, woe pronouncing, multitude feeding, leper-cleansing God, Who walks upon water, instructs the wind and even raises the dead

 

Imagine worshipping a bread-breaking, wine-offering, foot-washing God, Who soon to be betrayed, beseeches His Heavenly Father, and sweats blood in an olive garden

 

Imagine worshipping a 30-something, blood-splattered, fist-struck, scourged and spat-upon God, laboriously lugging a cumbersome crossbeam to His Own execution

 

Imagine worshipping a thorn-crowned, sword-pierced, crucified-with-common-criminals sacrificial Lamb of God, as He dies sinless for the sin of the world

 

Imagine worshipping a resurrected three-days-after-burial God, Who appears ALIVE! Yes, ALIVE! in His own burial garden, in locked rooms and to strangers along the road

 

Imagine worshipping this crucified, resurrected, gloriously ascending-in-the-clouds, victorious Son of God, Who says, "Go into the world and tell them."

 

Tell them…

He did it for them

 

Imagine…

 

Maude Carolan 

Maude's book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" 

is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

For information go to www.maudecarolanpych.net.

Mary, Mother of Jesus

 A-Poem-a-Day

Until Resurrection Day...

Image credit: pinterest.com

MARY

 

She was a real maiden

gracious and virtuous

so she trembled

as any girl might

at an angel’s visit

But she had real faith

in a real God

and she said, “Yes.”

 

She was a real woman

not blue-gowned in plaster

A poor carpenter’s wife

not an artist’s rendering

gilded and haloed

She bulged big with child

as she rode astride an ass

and during her real travail

brought forth a baby

in a Bethlehem stable

 

She was a real mother

He was a real son

She nursed him

changed him

bathed and cradled him

as any mother would

She smiled at his first word

saw him take his first step

and when he fell

and scraped his tender knees

she washed away blood

not yet deemed Precious

and soothed him

with soft lullabies

 

When he was twelve

and they discovered

he was missing

as they traveled home

after the Passover

she was anxious

as any mother would be

and heaved a great sigh

when they found him, safe

in the temple courts

 

Yes, she was a real mom

and he was a real son

so, it’s not surprising

it was she

who sensed his power

she who encouraged him to act

at the wedding feast

when wine stopped flowing

for she knew

she just knew…

 

and she was real

at the Crossbeams

Simeon had told her

long, long ago

a sword would pierce her

Though hers be bloodless

it penetrated sharp

and deep, as truly

as the gaping wounds

she now was powerless

to soothe

 

He looked down

from His agony

into hers—

gave her to mother

his friend

gave his friend

to be her son

 

It was always about love

 

She was a real mom

He is the real Savior

 

Maude Carolan

The above poem is one of many poems about the Birth, Death, and Resurrection of Our Savior, included in my book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" It's available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. For more information, visit my website at www.maudecarolanpych.com.

Here I am holding a copy of my book

at Barnes & Noble, Woodland Park, NJ.