God's Love And Mercy

As I sit here in my little corner of the world watching the sunrise and sunset, the days seem to be feeling more like summer and passing by way to fast.. Or maybe it's just me, not taking time to smell the flowers along the way..I know in this busy world we live in there's not much time to do the things we'd like, and there are things that can't be helped, like sickness etc..but I do try my best to Thank My God everyday for allowing me  to get out of bed each morning and for all the blessings that he does bestow on me everyday...
 For without him I would be nothing, I'm so sorry that I don't post as much as some but to be honest, it seems there's a lot going on this time of year. I've been planting my garden and yesterday I finally took the much anticipated step of getting my annuals and hopefully have them in the ground soon..I love my flowers..Then we all have to mow occasionally, I put that mildly. I try and help my husband out with that too, since he still works on a job.. But I love being outside and enjoying all the beauty that God has graced us with.. It's such a beautiful time of year..
No excuses here just facts, hope no one leaves my blog and I appreciate your patience and cherish your wonderful friendship..Hope you enjoy this little poem I wrote a while back..

                                          God's Love And Mercy

                                         I may walk the dark hills of sadness
                                         my mind may be torn in disarray
                                         God sees and he answers the call
                                         and puts sunshine back in my day

                                         My heart may be heavy burdened
                                         tears of sorrow are life's bittersong
                                         he reaches out his hand to me
                                         and the tears and burdens are gone

                                         Life is full of trials and tribulations
                                         and the clouds do over-shadow the sun
                                         but God's love and mercy is forever
                                         until my life on earth is done.

                                         Susie Swanson, 2012

Nope.. No Frost

Nope, no frost..the picture at the top is misleading, we escaped the frost this time..we sure did expect it though with the cold wind whistling for the last three days.. To all the people that passed by our house yesterday morning, "no it's not Halloween"..  We had the place looking like it with sheets spread over the Hostas and plastic garbage bags crammed down over the Peony Roses.. and just about anything else that we could find to cover we did.. but we got fooled, the wind stayed up all night and it stayed partly cloudy, despite what the weather man said.. You know I think I'm gonna quite listening to those guys.. They think they know it all ..lol..Well anyway it took us for better part of the morning to clean up the yard. Although we used rocks to put on the sheets they were scatterd all over the yard, look like a tornado had blown through, no fun intended.. I guess this all started back week before last when the freeze came.. about got all my stuff and didn't want to lose the rest.. Now I'm just gonna sit back and pray that the many winters of spring is over..sigh.. Meanwhile those poor people up north got hammered with snow and here I 'm complaining about the frost we Didn't Get..How was it in your neck of the woods?  Did you get frost or were you spared?

Old Treasures Brand New

                                                           The passing of time
                                                            has not stopped me yet
                                                            treasures from the past
                                                            my mind can't forget

                                                           Though rustic and aged
                                                           an old barn is brand new
                                                           with a story to tell
                                                           of how it once grew

                        

                                                          A house is a gem
                                                          with a heart of gold
                                                          even the old chimney
                                                          bares its aged soul

                                                          And a family's love
                                                          through so many years
                                                          under that old roof
                                                          brings joy with tears

                                                        That old rusted truck
                                                        parked in a field
                                                        still solid as a rock
                                                        with secrets to spill

                                                        An old dusty road
                                                        though dry with cracks
                                                        stirs fond memories
                                                        where wagons made tracks

                                                        Even an old plow
                                                        is better than before
                                                        with work now over
                                                        it deserves much more

                                                        There's that old wash tub
                                                         hanging on a nail
                                                         just as useful today
                                                         with each wash day tale

                                                         A simple little thing
                                                         as an old jelly jar
                                                         found in a junk pile
                                                         is still on my radar

                                                         Or a kerosene lamp
                                                          in the window at night
                                                          guiding my path
                                                          shining ever so bright

                                                          My childhood bicycle
                                                          and what it means to me
                                                          it to holds a story
                                                          and a piece of history

                                                          That little Christmas doll
                                                          with pretty, blonde hair
                                                          sitting on my shelf
                                                          just waiting to share

                                                         They speak to my heart
                                                          wherever they may be
                                                          I'll follow their lead
                                                          and each past memory

                                                          My mind holds the picture
                                                          the past holds the key
                                                          old treasures brand new
                                                          mean the world to me

                                                          Susie Swanson,2012
                                                 

                                                       
                                                      

A Dahlia Memory

                                                 It speaks to my heart
                                                 this beauty that I see
                                                 a very special lady
                                                 and a dahlia memory

                                                 A garden so grand
                                                 pretty dahlias in a row
                                                 she planted them there
                                                 her favorite one to grow

                                                 A vision of spring time
                                                 so enchanted and divine
                                                 she and her dahlias
                                                 were a showcase design

                                                 In the summer they stood
                                                 so patient, proud and tall
                                                 waiting for a bouquet
                                                 a lovely gesture of fall

                                                 A centerpiece on my table
                                                 I can smell them still
                                                 the fragrant blossoms linger
                                                 in the air so real

                                                 This beautiful dahlia memory
                                                  of my mother I dwell
                                                  in heaven there are dahlias
                                                  and she's doing quite well

                                                  Susie Swanson, 2011

                                                  In Memory Of My Mother, 04-19-27----12-13-97
                                    
                                                  Happy Birthday In Heaven Mom
                                                  I miss you more each Day!!!

Ties That Bind

                                                        He walks the dark streets
                                                        looking for a place
                                                        to lay down his head
                                                        he'd gladly embrace

                                                        Maybe a park bench
                                                        or a dark corner street
                                                        tomorrow's another day
                                                        and the same repeat

                                                        The hunger in his stomach
                                                         he knows quite well
                                                         a familiar, constant struggle
                                                         he tries not to dwell

                                                         A hot cup of coffee
                                                         sounds like a plan
                                                         a few dollars in his pocket
                                                         he'd feel like a new man

                                                         His whole life's worth
                                                         since he fell through the cracks
                                                         are the clothes on his back
                                                         and in two old sacks

                                                         Every now and then
                                                         he remembers a home
                                                         some old, familiar faces
                                                         it keeps him pushing on

                                                         An old, faded picture
                                                         of what he once had
                                                         before he lost it all
                                                         and things got so bad

                                                         The voices in his head
                                                          is a never ending thing
                                                          they live in his sleep
                                                          and every little dream

                                                          He fought so hard
                                                          in that long, drawn out war
                                                          he only wants some peace
                                                          nothing less, nothing more

                                                          The peace he longs for
                                                           he fears he'll never find
                                                           he lost it in Vietnam
                                                           the place with ties that bind

                                                           Susie Swanson, 2011

This is a repost from March, 2011.  They were talking on the news today about how many homeless veterans there are in the US..  I find it hard to believe sometimes the shape the country is in, not just with veterans but with so many homeless and hungry people..We all know the reason behind it and it's been coming on for years. They have left out the most important one of all , God .. When God is not in control this is what happens.. We need to continue praying for all involved..May God Bless Each One...Susie

Child Of The King

                                                When I recall my yesterdays
                                                the toil of storms and strife
                                                I thank my Precious Savior above
                                                for giving me new life

                                                There was a time of darkness
                                                I'd surely lost my way
                                                my life was so empty and void
                                                I could not even pray

                                                Each morning when I awoke
                                                held nothing more than dread
                                                any hope for happiness was gone
                                                I wished that I was dead

                                                But then one single word---Forgiven
                                                was spoken from his throne
                                                my heart was restored brand new
                                                he beckoned, Child Come Home

                                                I died inside that he might live
                                                within this heart of mine
                                                I chose the path to peace and love
                                                of a far more lasting kind

                                                I'm now walking in his victory
                                                each day my heart does sing
                                                I'm so honored and blessed to be
                                                a child of Christ the King

                                                Susie Swanson, 2012

                                               Happy Easter Everyone!

Twenty Five Long Years

                                                      She sat so all alone
                                                      on her porch upon a hill
                                                      the rocking started at dawn
                                                      in the early morning chill

                                                      Each day became the same
                                                      as her yesterdays did grow
                                                      her tears fell like rain
                                                      her hair white as snow

                                                      So much time had passed
                                                      since the day he went away
                                                      but wars continue to last
                                                      and mothers continue to pray

                                                      Separted by an ocean
                                                      each day she longed even more
                                                      to see her smiling son
                                                      walk through her front door

                                                      Each night when she went to bed
                                                      she left a candle bright
                                                      a flame in the window red
                                                      to guide him home at night

                                                      But no one did appear
                                                      upon her doorsteps there
                                                      she laid her worries and fear
                                                      upon God's shoulders in prayer

                                                      Today the rocking chair is empty
                                                       no candle can be found
                                                       just the wind blowing peacefully
                                                       with leaves covering the ground

                                                      The son she so yearned for
                                                       she's now crying joyful tears
                                                       he'd been waiting on another shore
                                                       for twenty five long years

                                                        Susie Swanson, 2012