Wondering Through The Day

Did you ever wonder if God is concerned

about what you just said or did?

Have you ever considered that what seemed so right

was quite hurtful to the Father instead?

Did you know He delights in you, knows you by name,

and He cherishes the time that you pray?

He enjoys taking care of you, guarding your soul,

and He sings over you every day.**

Do you listen to your words? Do you talk about friends?

Do you think He would like what He hears?

Have you thanked Him today for His goodness and grace

that has helped you to overcome fears?

Do you hunger for His presence and seek Him each day?

Do you long for His wisdom and care?

He's a very doting Father, and He guides us on

to complete all that He has started here.

He reminded me this morning that He's listening and He cares.

He told me that I need to guard my way.

For life has a tendency of making us forget

that my Father holds my hand and guides each day.

And I know when life's completed, and He comes to take me home

I'll be ready and refined by His loving hand.

I'm free to do the choosing when the question is said and done,

But, for God and Christ and Spirit I'll make my stand.

**Zephaniah 3:17

The Class of Sixty-six 50th Reunion

I shake my head. It's hard to conceive,

I'm truly not certain I can really believe.

It's been fifty years since the halls echoed loudly

Of the fellows I remember so dearly and proudly.

A lifetime of dreams have been lost and achieved.

We've given our best. Some gave all. Some received.

But, it's time for a show down. A test, if you will.

Who looks good, even though we're way over the hill.

Conspicuously, some are quite absent, and it seems

That the ones in attendance have used lotions and creams

To make them look spiffy and handsome and fine.

It's really not easy when you're pushing sixty-nine.

But, once we were younger. Yes, then we had it all.

T'was before we found out, with each high comes a fall.

And, here we sit proudly, as if nothing went wrong.

We're all smiling and laughing, and we sing all the songs.

We're a child of the sixties. We know how to endure.

We've been through the wars, we've known heartache, it's sure.

We have conquered our demons and slowed down the winds.

We've won and we've lost. Now our journey nears its end.

But wait! Only fifty? Imagine it, friend!

It's possible, at sixty we could be here again!

We'll be dancing and laughing and having some fun.

That is, if our legs are still moving, not numb.

And, if we can remember a time table to keep

So we all can get naps and our meds, then to sleep.

Oh! Won't it be fun to see each one again

With our hearing aids, walkers and electric canes?

So, if we've missed fifty, I wish no regret.

I hope we'll find sixty, and even more yet.

And, meanwhile let's laugh and enjoy each new day.

Cause I can't wait to see you when sixty comes our way.

Shirley Johnson Schmuck

Listening To My Childhood

Sounds of my childhood.........

Locusts humming on a summer night.
My mom singing while at the clothesline.
A bouncing basketball on the gravel in the alley.
Fighting cats outside my bedroom window.
Saturday night Shock Theater at 11 o'clock music that frightened me.
My mom calling me from the back porch just after dark. "Shirley ANN!"
My ocarina as I play Roses Are Red My Love.

My mother telling me to clean up my plate.
Peewee, the parakeet, telling me to clean up my plate.
Peewee laughing like my mom and talking.

Peewee

Mom and dad talking on the front porch.
Dad playing his harmonica and singing on the front porch.
Dad's laughter, loud and hearty.
Mom's laughter, loud and joyful.

Harriet Hunker's mom calling her to come home.
Sherry's mom calling her to come home, "Cher-YL!"
Mary Casey yelling, "Annie Annie Over" from the other side of their garage.
Lawnmowers roaring.

The wringer washing machine on the back porch going, slosh, slosh in rhythmic tune.
Mom singing at the clothesline.
Waking up to mom singing in the kitchen. 


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Shock Theatre 

Comedy, Horror | TV Series (1957–1959)

Episode Guide

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In The Darkest Hour of Need

The early morning hours crept in.

They say, the darkest hour of the day.

And, she sat in her room, yes, the hour it was dark,

For her heart was aching and crying in pain.

She sat all alone with the memories flooding in.

She longed just to touch the one she had lost.

Her tears flowing freely to empty the pain,

But, the pain lingers on, stabbing deeply within.

She cries out to the Father with soulful reproach.

How can this be happening? How can she get through?

And she feels He's not listening, not caring, not there.

And the loneliness hovers as she feels so alone.

Now, at that same hour a friend is awakened.

She looks at the time, and she feels there's a need.

She drops at the bedside, on her knees she now rests.

There's someone to pray for, and she honors the call.

It's not for her knowledge to know who is calling.

Silently, lovingly she whispers to Him.

The Father is listening and showering His love

On the one who cries out. And it eases her pain.

Respond to the Spirit, no matter the hour.

Be ready to summon His grace for a friend.

At times we're despondent and need reinforcement.

We cover each other in the darkest hour of need.

Ode To Da Crooked Nose

I'd never noticed this before.

It's shocking, I suppose.

You see, I've just become aware

That I have a crooked nose.

With years and years of photographs

You'd think I'd plainly see

That certain things upon my face

Are not where they should be.

Now, many folks have noses

That rest upon their chin.

And, some have real schnozzes

That obliterate their grin.

I know a gent so kindly,

And I hold him very dear.

But, he has a crooked nozzle

That can smell his inner ear.

My problem is a small one,

So complaining is just crude.

I shouldn't say one word at all,

For I know it could be rude.

But, I've noticed that it tilts quite left,

Just a little, don't you see?

And, now I think I look very strange

To the ones who look at me.

But, if I were to tell it true,

I'd have to bravely say,

I've always looked so strange to them,

And, I do to this very day.

My Favorite Time of Day

The quietude of the morning is my favorite time of day.
Its silence allows my mind to wander and create along the way.
The Master speaks in whispers, and gently calls my name.
His gift to me comes quickly, and flows through every frame.

This offering I cherish is creation of the verse.
It permeates my being without pause or the need to rehearse.
The gentle prodding comes without searching, without delay,
As I revel in the quietude of my favorite time of day.

And peacefully arises the brilliant warmth of the sun,
Reminding of the rebirth we've been given by the One
Who visited His creation to express His endless love.
I delight in this each morning, sharing life with the mourning dove.

Listen carefully to the silence for the gift He freely gives.
Never waste a moment to explore the special life we live.
I choose to wake each morning with the quiet, gentle One
Who writes upon my heart these words of verse as day is begun.

He Is Everything To Me

He makes me smile.

He makes me wonder why I ever tried to live without Him.

He makes me laugh

When I think about the ways that He delights my soul.

He makes me happy.

There's no other joy in life that compares to His presence.

He makes me content

As He wipes away the temptations I might encounter.

He makes me thrill

As I contemplate the magnificence of His being.

He calms my soul

As I recognize the shield He provides for my safekeeping.

He gives me hope.

There's no other source of refuge I can depend on.

He makes me grateful.

He has lavished my life with His infinite lovingkindness.

He is my inspiration.

I dare to aspire to be as one with my Lord and Savior!

He makes me love.

And He has promised His love and goodness in His eternal kingdom.