Ground2Chuck, Minced not Chopped

Hubby and I enjoyed the blessing of spending the evening with this half of the Feldman team--our dear neighbors across the street. Yes, he saddled and rode up on his tractor lawn mower...I was surprised he didn't drive up his front end loader or the big tractor. He often likes to take those out to see how many folks he can hold up on the highway!   Anyway, his better half is helping take care of the grandchild down in Atlanta thus we couldn't let him dine alone, so we invited him up for sup.  

     Life's always an adventure with this retired school teacher, artist, writer, octogenarian turned garlic farmer!  On the riding mower, He brought up  a bushel basket filled with a thick 3-ring binder, a cassette tape player, and a huge canning pot filled with eight different types of lettuce and radishes just picked from the farm. One item was noticeably missing from the load--his 4-octave harmonica!  It's hard getting through a meal with this man without feeling like you've had an ab workout from all the hilarity!  But the tales don't start until after he blesses the meal and our time together, of course.  

     Following our supper, he asked Steve and I to hold hands while he played the recording of an ol' song from the forties. And he was serious about the holding hands part!  Of course we were a little embarrassed and just a little hesitant not sure what was coming, but we complied.  Behind the hiss and scratches of the obviously old song that he recorded on this ancient cassette tape recorder from a tune he found on YouTube--a song he remembered from his coming of age favorites from the 1940s sung by a humble country couple backed up with banjo and harmonica accompaniment--"We'll Grow Old Together".  The song finished with a yodel to which our dinner guest joined with his own skilled epiglottis, flipping into his adorable falsetto to which I half-expected the fox, and Bob, the ghost of our resident woodchuck, the Bedford bear, a half dozen deer,  and his dear beloved Marge followed by a few annoyed neighbors and even the Hudson police to appear from round the bend. Until the yodeling part, he kept his head bowed in utter seriousness, lost in his own reverie, expecting hubby and I to listen to the entire song with devotion in our hearts. We swayed in time to the Appalachian rendition of this old love song while hubby winked at me as if to say, I feel a sermon coming. Sure enough, as though stepping up to the pulpit, clicking the cassette off button with a flourish, he prefaced his sermon with, Well now that your youngest has flown the 

nest, it really is just the two of you now.  You know, I've known my beloved Wife of 55 years was the one since she told me she gave her heart to The Lord and said, 'I'll never turn back.'  We've heard the story a few times but never mind hearing it told again by this godly man and master storyteller who never fails to touch our hearts, tickle our funny bone, and entertain us with his unique view on politics and world events topped off with a yodel or accompanied by the 4-octave harmonica while wreaking of garlic!  

     Oh , and the notebook?  He recently finished another chapter of his (so far) 600-page memoir replete with thousands of photos!  This chapter recounts his 2-year deployment to Germany post WWII and he wanted to discuss how he could market this part of the story. What soldier do you know who actually kept a running narrative--both visual and textual-of every detail of his time in the service!  Well, Folks, that's our Chuck Feldman, our one-of-a-kind Chuckie.  Trust me, the Lord broke the mold after making this one!  We love him and Margie so dearly and feel very blessed to have them and their family in our lives. Feel like the good Lord planted us here for a reason. OK, well since this is starting to seem like a book, I'll sign out for tonight I mean this morning. Hugs

Wishes on the Wind

Dandelions

Yellow nuisance gadfly weeds

Pestilence?

No!  Soft sunshine surprises, that

Grace a sea of green,

Inviting monarchs to land,

Woven into the braids of Innocence.

Clutched tightly in tiny fists, become

A gift to she who gave her life…

Later morph into wishmakers.

Fluffy wishes--not a whim, but a prayer--

Scatter with the sweetness of a child’s breath.

Blow!

Then watch downy seeds scatter,

Born on the hope of a child’s dream,

Becoming tomorrow’s wishmakers dare to

Send roots down where man desires to keep

Carpet green, void of

Short-stemmed sunshine surprises

Who, when given half a chance,

Inspire wonder in the heart of Innocence.

© 2014 By Katherine L. Harris Szerdy
Dedicated to Sela and Lily Kate

Lies in the Mirror

What lies are you believing

as you gaze in the mirror?

Shame internalized from years of thinking you’re

     second best

          third fiddle

                 inferior

                         not as good as...

Parents fight so loud,

     What will the neighbors think?

Walk to the school bus stop,

              head hanging low.

         Shame by association

         Becomes an unwanted companion

Fighting words become internalized voices—

          devil loves to use those words

Fists with the steady beat of a drum,

     The pound of a hammer

         drive shame d

                                     o 

                                        w

                                            n

                                               deep in muscles and sinews,

          embed them deep in bones…

                right down to the marrow

You won’t be good enough until you

          Make the honor roll every time

You won’t be good enough until you

          get the lead in the senior class play.

You won’t prove yourself good enough until you

          find someone who will want to marry you.

          Who would want to marry you?

You can’t possibly be good enough until you

          Get your college degree—

          Be the first in the family

It’s your job to make them look good.

     It’s your responsibility!

Then people won’t think you’re from “bad blood.”

What lies have you believed

as you gaze in the mirror?

It’s all up to you, you know.

Intellect will raise you above the crowd

Success will prove your worthiness

Maybe the shame will go away when you

            Earn your Master’s….

                        And this accolade

                                    And that award

Collect enough to inflate ego and you

                        might      save       face

Garner enough awards to cover the wall

            And you might have enough to hide

The crack in the plaster

How about seminary…

                        That’ll get you a few steps closer

to heaven

But even so

You won’t be good enough until you…

STOP!

The lie is your golden calf

                            Perfection is the gold

                            Pride is the idol

There is only One who is perfect.

Seek Me first, my child—it’s the ONLY way.

Seek My face, not theological concept.

Relationship, not intellectual exercise, 

It’s not what you do…it’s Who you know

Immerse yourself in My word every day

Allow it to soak it into your heart—

          --into the marrow--

A balm to heal deep-seated wounds,

The one true Panacea which destroys old tapes.   

I am not interested in earthly credentials!

Praise and worship are the only essentials!

Neither recognition nor award offer salvation

Shame hangs in the shadows of the award collection

Allow My light to pierce the broken places,

     to penetrate the dark recesses

Look to me—I am the Golden Key

Allow my love to remove the glaze from eyes

     Wearied by the mesmerism of the morning mirror

Allow my grace to wipe away your tears

And my mercy to unlock the inner treasury—

     Of Truth—

     To soften a heart hardened by years of 

     Believing the reflection tells the whole story…

You can do nothing to earn My saving grace.

     No audience can give you that.

     No award can grant you peace.

     No accolade is the answer

My Truth is plain and simple.

     No college prof can teach it…   

     No degree can dispense it…

The world doesn’t get it.

     Scholasticism cannot grasp it.

     Cultural compliance complicates it.

Following Me costs everything

Yet I paid your debt—in full!

You think you’re running the show?  

There is nothing that you owe!

Wake up from the illusion that you’re in control.

Rest, trust, that I stand at the helm.

Healing doesn’t come from self-forgiveness

Healing comes from accepting My forgiveness

I love you so much that I allowed

   Life to knock you behind the knees

To remind you of your vulnerability

Choose to bow down on bended knee

In sweet surrender, in humility

The irony of surrender as strength

is the mystery!

Let go of your history—

Your life is not a tragedy.

Embrace your new destiny!

You love me that much?

Salvation is free?

I cast myself in the dust before You, Father!

Nothing that I can do

No nothing that I can achieve

I can of myself do nothing to earn it.

You freely gave it to me,

and continue to give it to me, here, right now!

I look in the mirror and see the reflection of

Your beloved child, redeemed, worthy.

Copyright 2014, Katherine Harris Szerdy

OFF THE GRID

By Katherine Harris Szerdy

Hocking Hills

     forced the Screen Queen to

Gaze at the afternoon light

     reflecting off young leaves,

Listen to the cat-like calls of deer

     beckoning little ones to stay close,

Smell spring saplings lift

      Rich loam from last year’s leaves--

Green tendrils unfurl, 

      nudging their way,

             seeking sun’s rays.

I soak up the silence,

      wallow in the whispers of

Foothills formidable enough

     to keep

              signals from

                    penetrating…

24 hours

     off the grid

          zero bars, no not one…

  And that’s a good thing.

© 2014

Speech is Costly--Free Speech is Dead.

Yikes!  It's election puke time again!
I'm already sick and tired of the robocalls
and sound bytes and video clips and carefully
cropped photo ops replete with propaganda and
euphemisms and lies!
I don't trust people or the process any longer!
And we think Putin is corrupt!
We no longer watch local news media whose primary
motivation is editorializing whatever will attract the
numbers which translate directly to advertising dollars!
I have been victim to their distortions!
And free speech is dead.
I've never seen this nation so divided nor witnessed
an electorate so discontent.
I have always considered myself to be an optimist, but...
i wonder, if Anne Frank were alive in the 21st century,
would she still claim that "Despite everything, I still
believe that people are really good at heart"?
I think not.
God help this nation.

Copyright 05/02/2014  by Katherine Szerdy

Easter cards

It's tough finding Easter cards today that celebrate the real reason for this, the most important holiday on the Christian calendar.  The few available are segued off to the side of the display and even those cards in the tiny section labeled "religious" contain watered down  postmodernist sentiments void of such key words as "Christ" and "risen."  Leaves a person wondering how they got labeled "religious."  Seems as though in the past few years we've backslid a couple of millennia to celebrating a pagan rite of Spring rather than praising a Risen Lord.  But in this age where we've lost our moral compass, where even historic references to the Julian calendar, B.C. and A.D., have been stripped of their christological orientation--now B.C.E. (Before the Common Area) and C.E. (Common Era), scripture references have been stripped from the scopes of the soldier's rifle, and marriage has lost its sacredness,    

Dayspring, the big publisher of religious cards in the Christian bookstores, was recently bought out by Hallmark, and all of their cards are now printed in China!  At least Cleveland's own American Greetings are still printed in the USA.  Guess I'll be making my own, however--at $5 each, I'd rather donate the $25 I'd spend on 5 cards to the City Mission as a way of honoring the paschal mystery.