The Land of Let's Pretend

There lies a land so near and dear to the heart of every child
A land of peace and happiness, yet full of exploits wild
A land of tranquil homesteads with adventure ‘round the bend
The key’s imagination in the land of Let’s Pretend
The land of heroes, derring-do, and exploits bold and brave
Where men of action tried and true defy an early grave
A land where graceful ladies win the hearts of dashing men
But anything can happen in the land of Let’s Pretend
A scurvy villain kidnapping a mother’s only son
Incites the duel that starts the fight that means the war’s begun
A massive conflict fills the land—there’s war from end to end
For life is very hard sometimes in the land of Let’s Pretend
Yet truth and bravery win the day, and justice is restored
If you’ve imagination here, you’ll never more be bored
The grown-ups linger longingly—a tribute they extend
“There’s nothing like the golden days in good old Let’s Pretend!”
So often as the years go by, the secret pathway fades
The cares of life obscure the way to the magic forest glades
Yet the artists, thinkers, dreamers—all the sages among men
Are merely grown up children who still visit Let’s Pretend
So before the way grows dimmer, let us waltz down Memory Lane
Let’s dance across the seashore, let’s frolic in the rain
Let’s skip across the meadows—come walk with me, my friend
Re-live with me my childhood haunts in the land of Let’s Pretend

Fighting Fear

This post appeared on the COGAWA Teen Blog.


We were going to the park! I grinned and bit into my juicy hamburger. Hamburgers for dinner, and a trip to the park afterwards! What more could a 10-year-old ask of life?
I finished my hamburger and ran outside to put my bucket and shovel in the car for playing in the park’s huge sandbox. But when I came back, something was wrong. Why was Daddy leaning on the counter like that? And why did Mamma look so worried?
Before I realized it, all three of us kids were sitting in the car as Mamma drove us to the hospital. Daddy was leaning back in his seat, not saying anything. I was scared.
Soon we were in the hospital, and Daddy was in a bed with a doctor leaning over him asking questions. I sat silently against the wall, watching them both.
The doctor turned around. “I’ll have to ask the children to leave,” he said. “You can stay,” he said, addressing my mom, “but the kids need to go.”
I stared at him. Why did he want us to leave? Mamma took us down to the lobby and went back up to see Daddy again. I sat quietly trying to grasp the situation. Fear overtook me. What if I never saw my daddy again?
Fear. We’ve all felt it. We all know the awful chilling sensation fear seems to bring. But what is fear? Simply put, fear is an emotion. We fear many things: losing a job, dying, the death of a loved one, losing someone’s trust, etc. But what IS fear? Basically, fear is the worry that something—usually a life-changing something—will occur or not occur, as the case may be.
No fear in love
How does the Bible describe fear? In 1 John 4:18, John says, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love.”
Fear, then, is the absence of perfect love since “perfect love casts out fear.” Paul’s description of perfect love includes, “It [love] always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres” (1 Corinthians 13:7, New International Version). If we do not have perfect love for God, our trust in Him will falter and we will be afraid. Only perfect love trusts perfectly. Fear is a lack of trust in God to take care of us and those around us and do what is best for us and our loved ones.
Satan loves to use fear to cripple us in our struggle to grow. Fear can keep us from doing what God wants us to do and can cause us to draw away from Him. Fear is a terrible threat to our Christian lives.
Combating the paralyzing influence of fear
So what can we do to combat the paralyzing influence of fear? Paul tells us, “God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7). God has given us a spirit of love, and perfect love casts out fear. Thus, as we draw closer to God and learn to trust Him and love Him more perfectly, our fears will vanish away.
One way we can combat fear as soon as it happens is to pray and ask God to help us deal with the fear. When we ask His help, our Father is always willing to give assistance to His children.
Something else that is helpful is to memorize scriptures detailing God’s promises to protect and take care of us. The Psalms are full of verses telling of God’s goodness and love (Psalms 3:3; 34:17; 94:14). Thinking of the promises of God can help us to cast out fear and put our trust in Him.
In God I have put my trust
As it turned out, nothing was really wrong with my dad. The heart attack symptoms that he experienced were caused by a type of acid reflux that frequently mimics a heart attack. It’s been years since the incident, but it’s not easy to forget the helpless feelings you have when life hands you something you can’t control.
Fortunately for you and me, the One who IS in control of everything in our lives is the Being who loves us more than anyone else can.
As we draw closer to Him, let us learn to echo the psalmist: “Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You. In God (I will praise His word), in God I have put my trust; I will not fear. What can flesh do to me?” (Psalm 56:3-4).

The Story

                It was a glorious fall. The trees had donned their brightly colored frocks in spectacular style, as if determined to create a display that would compensate for the months of barren ugliness ahead.  A mischievous breeze swirled through the piles of leaves on the ground, and whisked the skirts of little girls to and fro.  It was the kind of day which parks are made for, and children by the dozen decorated the green expanse of Edith C. Wildman Memorial Park like so many sprinkles on an enormous green cake.  “The Park”, as it was referred to by the children of Sandbury, was covered with happy rowdy kids. Toddlers built sand castles in the sandbox.  Little girls hung out of the turret windows of the old wooden castle and yelled to some boys scrabbling about below to hurry up and kill the dragons so they could be rescued and come on down.  A group of older children played hide-and-seek in the little patch of woods that bordered the pond.  On the other side of the pond sat a little boy, all by himself.  Walter was ten years old, and by rights should have been running about killing imaginary dragons with the other boys his age.  Instead, he sat on the bank among the tall grass, looking at the wind-driven ripples which marred the glassy surface of the pond.  He was thinking of his father.  Father would have known what kind of bird that was, he thought longingly as a sweet trill resounded across the pond.  Suddenly, an old man walking around the edge of the pond caught his eye.  Idly, he watched the man in his light brown sweater and cap walk slowly around to a weather-beaten bench on the south side of the pond.  The old man sat down, removed his cap, and ran his fingers through his thick white hair.  Laying a brown paper bag on the bench beside him, he leaned back to wait.  A few minutes later, he was joined by an elderly woman with her hair hidden by a bright scarf which tied under her chin.  She sat down beside him and patted his knee affectionately before opening the brown bag and beginning to munch its contents.  The man helped himself to whatever was in the bag.  Walter, his curiosity aroused, began creeping through the tall grass.  He moved stealthily, as his father had taught him to do when they had gone bird watching together, and soon was close enough to see the couple more clearly.  Doughnuts!  They were eating doughnuts!  Walter hadn’t tasted a doughnut since Cousin Wilbur’s birthday party.  He saw the old man reading out loud from a book, but before he could get close enough to hear any of it, both of them stood up to leave.  To his astonishment, the old man stooped and kissed the lady’s hand.  Walter’s curiosity was thoroughly aroused.  What had this meeting been about?  Who met on a park bench to eat doughnuts and read a book?  And who in the world kissed a girl’s hand?  Walter walked slowly home, determined to go to the park regularly and watch the old bench if he could slip away from his mother.  She barely let him out of the house now that Father was dead.  Walter sighed.  Surely she couldn’t object to him going to the park.  Maybe this mystery would make life a little more interesting.  Then he and his mother would have something to talk about over dinner.  Ever since Father died, dinner was a somber, silent meal.  

                The next day, Walter went to the park straight after school.  He hid in the grass behind the boardwalk on which the old bench stood, and was delighted to see the old man approaching from the left, and the lady approaching from the right.  The weather had turned colder, and the sky was overcast, so they both wore coats.  “Good afternoon, Bertram,” said the lady in a gentle voice.

 “Good afternoon, Helen,” replied the man, sitting down on the bench.  Helen sat beside him, and they munched doughnuts in silence for a while.  Then Bertram spoke.

 “I haven’t gotten much farther, I’m afraid.” 

“Oh Bertram, you know I don’t mind”, replied Helen.  Bertram cleared his throat and began to read. 

“It was the ninth of September when the dreadful event occurred.  A nobleman from the distant province of Argural appeared at the home of the princess.  The peasant lad Martreb was worried.  He knew his friend was reaching the age of marriage, and visiting noblemen could spell trouble.  Martreb’s worst nightmare came true the next day when a carriage pulled out of the great Montegro estate with his best friend seated unhappily beside a richly dressed man who appeared to be twice her age.  Martreb caught a glimpse of her sad face as the carriage left the only home she’d ever known.  He stood in the dirt roadway staring after them, trying to decide what to do.”  Bertram stopped.  “That’s all I’ve written since yesterday,” he said rather shyly.  Helen patted his knee.

“It’s very good,” she said softly.  “It all seems real again.  Suddenly, a boom of thunder echoed around the park, and rain began pouring from the sky.  Bertram jumped up and helped Helen get into her coat, which she had removed during the reading.  Walter, still crouching in the grass and reeds, pulled his hood over his head. When he looked up again, Bertram and Helen were already hurrying away.  Walter turned to go, but couldn’t help looking over his shoulder once.  His eyes riveted on a rectangular object lying on the boardwalk next to the bench.  He raced back.  It was the book!  Walter looked around, but neither Bertram nor Helen were in sight.  Reverently, he picked up the heavy tome and shoved it under his jacket.  Thoroughly drenched, he began running home. 

Walter carefully opened the book.  He had wiped it off as best he could, and dried it by the radiator.  Apart from some wrinkled pages, it seemed unharmed.  Now, lying in bed, he began to read by the light of a small lamp.    Immediately, he was lost in the faraway world of Atamara.  Figures raced through his imagination: the beautiful princess Neleh; the gallant peasant boy Martreb who became her best friend; the hard master Martreb worked for.  He felt he too was playing on the lawns of the great estate with the young Martreb and Neleh.  He seethed with anger at Neleh’s wicked regent’s plan to send her off to marry the cruel Mongo, a minor nobleman who lived in a faraway province where she knew no one.  And then, in the small hours of the morning, Walter came to the part he’d heard read that afternoon.  The rest of the book was filled with blank pages.  The old man’s flowery handwriting stopped.  Walter tried hard to go to sleep, but he was held in terrible suspense.  He wanted to know what Martreb decided to do.  He just had to go save Neleh from Mongo.  But how? Walter was tired in school all day.  The book was carefully wrapped in a cloth in his backpack.  The minute school let out, Walter went to the park.  But no one came.  Finally, as it started to get dark, he went home, puzzled. When another day went by with no sign of the couple, he was worried; and by the third day, he was frantic.  He had to get the book back to Bertram.  At long last, on the fourth day, Bertram appeared.  He looked older than before.   His pace was slower.  Helen didn’t join him.  Bertram sat all alone, eating doughnuts.  Summoning all his courage, Walter walked up to the old man.  Bertram didn’t say anything, but his grey eyes asked a question. “Well?”  Wordlessly, Walter held out the book.  Bertram’s eyes lit up.  Gratefully he took the volume.  He patted the bench nest to himself.  “Have a doughnut,” he said, fumbling with the bag to extract one.  Walter took it eagerly.  The light pastry melted in his mouth.  After a moment, the old man inquired, “How did you find the book?”  Walter had to swallow several times before he could get his mouth free. 

“Well sir, I saw you and the lady here one day, and I was curious.  So the next day, I got here early and hid.  I heard you reading, and I saw the book lying there after you left, so I took it home.  Then I read it, sir.  I couldn’t help myself.  Sir, is it a true story?”  Old Bertram was silent for a moment.  Then replied,

“Aye, it’s true, boy.  I’m Martreb, and the lady you saw was Helen.  She died yesterday.  Caught a cold from the chill, and just died.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Walter could think to say.  They sat in silence.  Then Walter could restrain himself no longer.  “What did Martreb—I mean you—do sir?” he burst out.  “You only got to where he sees her being taken away.  Did he save Neleh?” Bertram didn’t answer for a minute.  Then he said, “Would you like to hear the story?”  When Walter nodded eagerly, he sighed.

“All right. Well, I stood staring after Helen’s carriage for quite some time.  As I stood there, I realized how much she meant to me.  And she thought a lot of me, too.  ‘Bertram,’ she said once, ‘I’d rather marry you than any nobleman around, because you’re my friend.  If I have to get married, I’d rather marry a good friend than a complete stranger.’  I realized I couldn’t just let her go off and get married to this fellow.  I’d heard some terrible things about Mongo, and I wasn’t about to let him have my princess.  I had a lot of thinking to do if I was going to rescue her. . .”  Walter sat entranced for over an hour as Bertram regaled him with the story of how he had followed the carriage to Mongo’s house and pulled off a daring rescue, only to be captured by the nobleman as Helen made her escape.  Reluctantly, Walter stopped Bertram.  “I’ll have to go home,” he said regretfully.  “My mother will be worried.  She doesn’t like me to be out after dusk.  Could we meet here tomorrow after school?”  To his delight, Bertram readily agreed. 

For over a month Walter was fascinated as the old man recounted at their daily meetings his adventures—being pursued throughout the country with Helen at his side, evading the forces of evil, resting when they could but always running before Mongo.  At last, the nobleman’s forces got too strong.  Bertram’s voice cracked several times as he told of his last desperate gamble.  He had put Helen on a boat to America, but had sacrificed himself to ensure her safety.  It had taken him fifteen years to get out of prison, and twenty more to locate Helen.  Only two years ago he had traced her to Sandbury, and met her again.  They had begun meeting daily six months ago when Bertram had started his chronicle of their journey and wanted to make sure it was accurate.  Now the two old friends were separated again.  And, as usual, Helen had left while Bertram stayed behind. 

“Well, that’s it,” said Bertram one day as they sat on the bench together.  Walter sipped his hot chocolate slowly.  It was so cold that they had opted for hot chocolate instead of doughnuts.  At last Walter stood. 

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Bert?” 

It was a question rather than a statement.  Bertram rose and smiled fondly at the boy he’d grown to love.  “Yes, see you tomorrow, Walter.” The old man and the boy went their separate ways, shuffling off through the dead leaves on the path.

Happily Ever After

Here is the link to an article I wrote for the Cogwa teen blog a while back.  Feedback would be appreciated!

 http://cogwa.org/teen-blog/entry/happily-ever-after

My Feast Poem

Hope everyone has a wonderful Sabbath!

 

Great Father of mercy and Lord of the just,
In You and You only Your people place trust.
We all lift our eyes to the heavens above,
And entrust our fate to Your wisdom and love.

As the world grows darker and the end draws near,
We anxiously wait for our Lord to appear.
While creation groans in its bondage to man
We steadfastly await the next step of your plan.

We ask for the strength only You can supply
And we plead for the faith too precious to buy.
Please hasten your coming, for we are not strong.
Please send back our Shepherd to whom we belong.

We are hard-pressed by Satan, yet not broken down.
Though beset by hard trials we reach for the crown
The crown given only to Your holy sons
The crown that will mean that our victory is won.

We ask for endurance to finish the race.
We pray we’ll be found in Your most holy place.
Deliver and rescue us out of each plight.
Help us walk solely by faith, not by sight.

And these things we pray in Your Son’s awesome name,
Great God who forever is always the same.
We thank You and praise You then thank You again.
Great God, we will love you forever.
Amen

Soldier's Tale

This is a dialogue between an old soldier and his wife, remembering their younger days.  The verses in italics are spoken by the woman.  :)
Soldier’s Tale

I still remember that long ago day

When I heard my battalion was going away.

I was terribly frightened of what you would say

When I told you, “I’m leaving, and you’ll have to stay.”

Dearest, we’d never been apart very long

And suddenly the world seemed unfair and wrong.

From the moment I knew, I lived dreading the day—

The day when you’d leave me, and I’d have to stay.

The first night was worst. I dreamed of your tears.

The men said we could be in Europe for years.

I told myself you’d be much safer this way.

But it still hurt to leave home when you had to stay.

The first week without you, I thought I would die.

I couldn’t do much except sit there and cry.

It seems rather silly as I look back today,

But it wasn’t when you left and I had to stay.

Your letters sustained me throughout the whole war.

I’d not been so eager for mail ever before.

Each letter between all its lines seemed to say,

“Why did you leave when I had to stay?”

The silence was worst, not knowing at all.

Not knowing if you had survived, did you fall?

Not knowing which letters, if any, you received.

Oh, why did I stay when you had to leave?

When we got to the front, home seemed like a dream—

Where buildings weren’t bombed and people were clean.

For the first time ever I started to say,

“I shouldn’t have left; at least she got to stay.”

I’ll never forget the day you returned.

You held me close and said you had learned

Just how painful it was to be so far away.

You told me, “I left, but I’m back home to stay!”

The day of my life that was most filled with pride

Was the day that I took you and made you my bride.

As I looked in your eyes, I vowed, “There’s no way

I’ll ever leave again. Not if she has to stay.”

And you’ve kept your vow, Darling, through thick and through thin.

There isn’t a fight that together we can’t win.

In our long happy lives there has not been a day

When you told me “I’m leaving.  You wait here and stay.”

Yes, thus far in my life I have honored my vow.

And yet to my sorrow, I can’t keep it now.

My wife, I am dying. I’m slipping away.

My love, I am leaving. And you’ll have to stay.