I WONDER IF HE KNEW

I wonder if He knew that I would question the little things that happen in my day..

Just WONDERING

How difficult to think of Him

As merely man.

Did He have cabin fever

In mid-winter too?

 

Was He reflective,

After spending time with folks

Because of things He said

Or didn’t say?

Did someone need to talk with Him

While He hurried on His way?

Was He discouraged by the weather?

 

Was He tempted to make bread from stones?

The Bible says He was.

Does that mean

When I’m tempted

I am not alone?

Will God be in my heart and head?

If I listen well to Him

And learn His teachings

Starting now,

Is there still time?

Was time His enemy

Is it mine?

Did He finish all His daily chores

And wake at night

Wishing He’d accomplished more?

If I could gain acclaim

With talents given me by God,

Would I, as He

Refuse the moment’s gain

For certain pain?

I WONDER IF HE KNEW

That I would question

If He really understood

The little things

That happen in my day.

He said He would.

Mary Anne Whitchurch Tuck

1995

copyright/©2018

Photography By Mary Anne Tuck

NEVER FORGET THAT DAY-September 11, 2001..

A large plane had flown into the World Trade Center in New York City
 and completely disappeared. 

 

A DAY TO REMEMBER

           I wanted to feel the comfort of shared grief.
 “The quilters were a blessing to me.”

Let me explain…

Standing before the television,
 getting my last look at the news
 before beginning the day,
 I couldn’t comprehend the scene before me.

A large plane had flown into the World Trade Center in New York City
 and completely disappeared. 
 Smoke and flames were billowing out
 at a point six stories from the top of the building.
 The remnants of the plane had not appeared on the other side.
 It didn’t make sense.

I knew I wasn’t watching a video or a re-run.
 How could this have happened?

I called to my husband who was working outside. 
“Come in here and look at this.”

As we stood together before the television,
 another large plane appeared 
and flew into the second tower, 
not emerging on the other side,
 causing an explosion of smoke and fire.

As the day progressed,
 a tower collapsed and disintegrated into the ground 
sending unbelievable amounts of soot and smoke 
racing through the narrow streets.

Hundreds were running away 
in an effort to escape the terrible scene.

 An event, which I have never viewed,
 although I know it was captured by cameras,
 shows thousands of people
 jumping from the fire in the buildings 
to their deaths on the ground.
  I cannot bring myself to look at it.

 

It was reported that 400 police officers and fire fighters 
were killed
 while attempting to rescue as many as possible
 from the blazing buildings.
 These brave men led many to safety.
 They are heroes. 
This is America.
 Tragedies such as this don’t happen here.

As the day wore on,
 I couldn’t draw away from the sight
of the events before me.

 I felt fear and a heavy sadness
 for what was happening in New York.
 How could anyone
 living in the United States of America
 believe this could be possible?

Thousands of people had gone to work that morning,
  never to return to their loved ones. 
How do we accept such an event
 except through fear, confusion and sadness.

 

Later, as the hours passed,
 a report was given that a passenger plane was down. 
Flight 93, had crashed and disintegrated 
in a field in Pennsylvania. 
Forty unbelievably brave passengers attempted to take over the plane. 
 All were killed as they tried to retrieve control from the terrorists.

 

We remember them as heroes.

 

A report was given about a fourth plane
 with 184 passengers aboard 
which had flown into the Pentagon.
 Many were killed.
 The scenes before me could not be denied.
 It was reported Fight 93 had been destined
 to destroy the White House.
 Because of the actions of the passengers
 the plane had crashed 
into an empty field.

 

That night
 our church, 
which will hold 300 people,
 held a prayer meeting. 
Every available place was filled.

 This was the beginning of a new awareness.
 There are people who hate us because we exist.
 They hate us so much, 
 they willingly die
 in order to kill as many of us in this country 
as possible.

 

I felt a strong need to reach out to people far away,
 wanting to feel the comfort of shared grief. 
How could that be accomplished?

My recently developed  hobby of quilting 
had led me to discover
  a program on the Internet 
designed for exchanging quilt materials.

 Choose a listed name and address,
  send twenty-four two-inch pieces of material 
in a variety of colors.

They would be sown into a quilt. 
I should send my material to them
 and they in turn 
would send theirs to me. 
 Along with the material,
 the guidelines suggested also sending
 a little note about myself,
 where I lived 
and briefly about my life.

 

I received exchanges from every state in the union
 including one from Israel.
 Eventually there were enough squares
 to make a full sized quilt,
 covering both sides with the material received.

Opening each package
 I felt warmly connected to these women
 I would never meet. 
 I felt strengthened
 knowing that their hands
 had prepared the material, 
which I now held in my hands. 
 The quilters were a blessing to me.

 

Each message I received now resides in a folder, for remembering friends unknown.

 

I was sixty-six years of age.
 My life
and thousands of others,
could never be the same. 

 We must not let the evil existing in the world 
change us as persons 
or as citizens 
of the United States of America. 

The events of September 11, 2001 
have been burned into the minds
 of those of us who witnessed it.

 

To many of our youth,
 September 11, 2001,
 is only a piece of history.
 It may be likened to the story of the First World War, 
Viet Nam, or the Korean War.
 The difference is
 this happened in the United States of America
 in the twenty-first century. 
It didn’t happen 
under the leadership of George Washington
 or Abraham Lincoln. 
 It didn’t happen 
when Theodore Roosevelt or Harry Truman 
held the office of president.
 It happened 
under the administration 
of the forty-third president of the United States of America,
 George W. Bush. 

To President Bush, 
in office for less than one year,
 fell the responsibility of dealing with a people who hate us.
 These are people 
who consider our very existence
 to be an affront to their god.
 It fell to our president
 to comfort
 many who were frightened and grief stricken.

This isn’t the world in which I grew to adulthood.
 Could I have imagined
 a foreign nation taking the lives of 3000 people
 on a fair September morning in New York city?
 Would I have believed 
I would be a witness 
while standing before a television in my home
 as it was happening? 

 The answer is no.

We must NEVER FORGET September 11, 2001.

 

 The memories remain vivid 
on September 11, 2018.
 Sadness comes quickly.
I WILL NOT FORGET.

copyright©2018

Photography By Mary Anne Tuck

memoriesaremadefromthis.com

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A GIFT TO BE SHARED

Ann was healed and she was in heaven!
The Holy Spirit was giving to me the knowledge of her healing.
I received the confirmation of her new life 
as a gift.
It is a gift I will remember and cherish all the days of my life.

 
 
 

Remembering  Ann

A gift to  cherish….

Ann lived a short distance from our house.  
 She and her husband moved to the neighborhood
 from the southern part of the state 
where she had worked in a factory and he had been employed
 as a heavy equipment operator.
 Now retired, they spent their time caring for their home.
 They had no children and were deeply devoted to each other.

Plain looking and soft spoken,
 Ann had the proverbial heart of gold. 
Her graying hair was not stylishly fixed
 in the fashion of the day.

 

Each year she raised a beautiful circular flower garden 
with a birdbath in the center
 surrounded by colorful flowers.
The garden prospered under Ann’s tender care.

 

Ann and her husband were always nearby,  lending a helping hand
 when one was needed. 
 Appearing on a summer’s evening to visit for a time,
 there was always encouragement for us in planning our young lives,
 with an offer to help in any way they could.

 

Ann unwittingly helped me to acquire a taste for sauerkraut. 
I could never abide the bitter taste no matter how I tried. 
 One day, I stopped by her house. 
The wonderful aroma in her kitchen caused me to inquire
 about what she was cooking.
 Her answer was sauerkraut. 
I shared with her my utter dislike for it.
Ann suggested I should add brown sugar 
and a couple of quartered apples to the sauerkraut as it cooked.
 What a difference that combination made.

 

Perhaps there’s a lesson here. 
It may be the LACK of seasoning that causes bitterness
But the ADDITION of something sweet
 changes bitterness to joy
 and gives us a new appetite for life.

 

One day I was told Ann was in the hospital for stomach surgery.
 The results were not good. 
She had cancer and nothing could be done.

 

Ann came home to spend her remaining days
 in her own bed in her own home,
 surrounded by things and people she loved.
 By this time, Ann was in her late sixties.

 

Life for me, at that time, 
had been completely turned around
 by the joy and knowledge of the Holy Spirit. 

The Bible was exciting. 
Scripture was leaping off the pages of the Bible, to me,
 as it had never done before.  
I prayed incessantly for Ann’s healing. 
 I had faith and prayed for more faith 
and more understanding 
and always
 for the complete healing of Ann’s body.

 

Time passed and healing was not evident.
 I searched scripture for more information.
  There were many passages for guidance.
 1Thess.5: 27 “pray without ceasing”.

 

The disciples asked Jesus
 why they had not had a healing for someone
 by praying for them.
 Jesus responded; Matthew 17:21 
“this kind does not go out
 except by prayer and fasting.”
Further (in Mark) it is noted He said to them.,
“This kind can come out by nothing but prayer and fasting”.

 

For the first and only time in my life, I fasted.
 I prayed without ceasing for 24 hours. 
The fasting directed my complete attention to the prayer,
 to Ann, 
and to the Spirit of God.

I was confident that Ann would be healed. 
She was not.
 A few weeks later, Ann died. 

I questioned God, my faith, and myself.

Ann was a devout Catholic.
 Her funeral was held in the local Catholic Church.
 Our family sat in the back of the church 
quietly observing the unfamiliar funeral rituals.

 

I was sad for the loss of my friend, Ann. 
The words of the service fell on closed ears and a heavy heart.

Suddenly I was amazed.
  I felt a great feeling of joy welling up within me.
 I was overwhelmed with the knowledge being given to me. 
 Ann was healed.
 She was in heaven.
 The promises of God were fulfilled. 
“I go to prepare a place for you. Where I am you will be also.”

 

Ann was healed and she was in heaven!

The Holy Spirit was giving to me the knowledge of her healing.

I received the confirmation of her new life 
as a gift.

It is a gift I will remember and cherish all the days of my life.

 

A Gift To Be Shared

One treasures the people in life who made a difference 
in the way we lived then and now.

I would not have identified Ann as such an important person,
 until my experience at the time of her death.

 

I now believe that God called me to Ann’s friendship
 so He could show me

His Way.

It’s hard to explain my experience the day of Ann’s funeral.

The feeling was instant, intense and oh so joyful.

I’ve shared my feelings of the experience
 with friends and family.
There is no way to convey 
the intensity of the joy I felt 
as I sat quietly in the back row of an unfamiliar church 
during an equally unfamiliar funeral service. 

 Maybe that was part of God’s plan too.

 

Belief in Ann’s healing 
and belief in life after life
 in a perfect state of being
 will never change for me.

 

It truly is A GIFT TO BE SHARED

 

copyright©2017

Photograph By Mary Anne Tuck

memoriesaremadefromthis.com

 

 

 

FINDING The THREAD

In memory,
a THREAD begins to reveal itself.
Ahead are endless, unplanned days.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.

FINDING THE THREAD

 

In memory,

a THREAD begins to reveal itself.

Ahead are endless, unplanned days.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“You have to have a plan,” I told everyone.

But where is my plan?

If I could see ahead just a little,

maybe I could unravel the thread.

Walking into the spare bedroom this morning

to raise the shades,

the view turned from dark

to sunshine.

A scene exploded in memory.

I could see my father lying on the bed we borrowed

from Hospice.

We’d moved the regular bed from the room.

I wanted his last days

to be spent with a view of our peaceful world;

the trees,

our flock of sheep,

the horses in the pasture.

As long as he was able,

he rested on his side

watching them.

I hope he loved the quiet scene.

Fall yard

The Lord is my Shepherd…

He makes me to lay down in green pastures. 

He restores my soul”.

I hope my Father’s soul was restored.

He knew what he was facing.

He wouldn’t talk to us about it;

 his way of dealing

with the impending transition.

We visited with Dad,

as did many friends,

in those last few days.

We could only face the situation

by continuing our daily routines.

He did his best

to honor our game.

Dad didn’t retire

until the age of sixty-nine.

It seemed like a grand old age in those years.

Now it seems rather young to me.

He always had a plan,

a routine,

an interest, and a goal.

He was disciplined,

determined,

loving and reliable,

 committed to his family.

What about me?

There are many questions,

 not many answers.

I want my life to count for something.

 Have I stopped counting?

What will happen to the generations

who have not had the parenting or the communities

in which my generation was privileged to live?

What happens in the single parent family

when the parental balance

does not exist?

What happens to the marriage,

with no plans for commitment? I believe we have the answer to that question.

What happens to adults who weren’t raised

with a Dad and Mother like mine who encouraged us?

The last two generations have given us a preview.

The media has become the parent of many young people today.

Is the media making their moral judgments? Is it making our moral judgments?

Everyone is doing it, so why shouldn’t I?

Blame can always be affixed to someone,

somewhere,

somehow.

By what moral standards does this new generation make its’ decisions?

There is a new intensity in my nightly prayers.

 He is much closer.

 My time to see Him face to face

is much nearer than before.

I see THE THREAD

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Photography By Mary Anne Tuck

memoriesaremadefromthis.com