by Lucy M. Edmunds
My kitten is the prettiest And smartest in the town. He sings to me 'most all the time, And follows me up and down. I call his name Tuxedo Cause he's a high class cat; I couldn't call him Tommy, Or a common name like that. Besides he has a white bow tie. He keeps his fur so slick, He looks so dressed up all the time, I couldn't call him Dick. So I'll call him Tuxedo 'Cause he's a special cat. I always will be good to him, And he'll grow sleek and fat.
by Lucy M. Young
Dear Lord, be with me as I face this day. Strengthen my battered faith, remove all doubt. Just let me feel Your loving presence near. Let all my fear and care be put to rest, For, Lord, I am uncertain of my way - Beset by fear and weakness, wracked with pain, I stumble often as I struggle on. My feeble strivings seemingly in vain. Walk with me, Lord, and hold my trembling hand. Direct my faltering footsteps, make me strong. Renew, refresh, revitalize my spirit, And fill my heavy heart with glorious song. For with Your love and guidance, Lord, my life Takes on new meaning, gladness fills my heart; My wavering pathway takes a new direction, And fear and doubt and weakness all depart. My ever loving Lord, my friend in need, I thank You for this great new lease on life - For greater faith, for casting out my doubt, And keeping me serene through storm and strife.
by Lucy M. Young
I don't know how my father knew
When it was time to tap the maple trees
But there would come a day in March
When he would start the yearly task of making maple sugar.
The snow lay deep and untouched in the woods
When he would hitch the horses to the sled
And load it down with buckets;
Then with the horses plunging sometimes belly-deep in snow,
The roads between the trees were opened.
Only the largest strongest trees were chosen to be tapped.
The buckets then were scattered,
One or two at each selected tree.
The next day tapping started.
A hole was bored into the layer 'neath the outer bark
Where the life-blood of the tree flowed upward
Through each branch and twig into the leaf buds,
Gently rousing them to greet the Spring.
The sap spouts then were driven in and a bucket
hooked to each.
Every day the sap was gathered in a special tank
securely bolted to a sled.
The horses strained to pull \the load along the rough
and crooked roads,
Stopping at each tree,
Waiting patiently for the bucket to be emptied,
Then moving on.
When the tank was full, back to the sugar house we went
To fill the waiting vats with our sweet load.
Trip after trip until the many buckets had been emptied.
Then the long and tiresome chore began -
Boiling down the sap to thick, sweet maple syrup,
And tubs of golden sugar.
Gravity filled the large evaporators over the arch
(A long cast-iron structure built especially for this purpose).
Carefully tended fires and constant watchful care
Were necessary to complete the task successfully.
Day and night my father alternately dozed and stoked the fire.
My mother brought his meals to him
And took his place while he returned to milk and feed the cows
And gather the sap each day.
For just about a month the non-stop work continued.
Freezing nights and mellow days were needed
To keep the sweet sap flowing;
But when the weather warmed toward April and the buds
began to swell,
The sap no longer sweet,
The spouts and buckets were brought in,
Washed and stored 'til sugaring time another year.
by Lucy M. Young
When Jesus entered Jerusalem On that Sunday so long ago The multitude greeted Him joyously In His path palm branches did throw. But His eyes held only sadness, Compassion filled His heart; For He knew His time was limited, From this life He would soon depart. He blessed the crowd as He slowly rode Down the narrow dusty street. His heart was heavy as He looked ahead To the trouble He must meet. He was weary and worn, He was troubled By the sorrow and pain He must bear; But He breathed a prayer to His Father Entrusting His life to His care. When the palms are passed in remembrance Of the Master's humble ride, May we dedicate our lives anew To the purpose for which He died?
Just for you, my friend, the sun is shining; Just for you no clouds are in the sky. The springtime flowers bloom in all their glory; Just for you the birds are flying high. Just for you my prayers rise to the Father For quick recovery from your long travail; For peace of mind and happiness and confidence That pain and sadness cannot long prevail. Just for you the birds are singing sweetly; Their happy songs, 'though old seem ever new; They sing of hope and love, of faith and gladness, And lift their hearts in glad song just for you.
by Lucy M. Young
She loved the Lord and sang His praises daily. She taught us with her songs to love Him too. Praying at her knee each night a bedtime, We knew He'd keep us safe the whole night through. The hymns she taught us are a precious legacy. I still can hear her singing "Rock of Ages." Her tattered Bible is my dearest treasure, Remembering her I slowly turn the pages And read marked passages that brought her comfort. And strength and joy to raise her voice in song, To lift the spirits of all those around her, Until her voice was cracked with age and gone. But now I'm sure she's singing with the angels All those old and lovely hymns her memory stored; I know her voice rises clear and joyous As she once more sings her praises to her Lord.
by Lucy M. Young
Dear little girl, "adopted daughter,"
Your grief and anguish break my heart.
Your love has left you for a time,
But it is just a temporary separation.
Believe, my dear, that he is waiting
Just beyond that closing door
For you to go to him.
He loved you dearly,
And that love you shared with him
Will last forever.
It will sustain you through the lonely days and nights ahead.
Lean on the Lord.
His love and strength will hold you up
And gently comfort you.
He'll hold your hand
And help you through the emptiness you feel
Until that glorious day when once again
You will be reunited with your love
Forever.
by Lucy M. Young
Dear sister, mother of the son I never had,
I share with you the sadness and the emptiness
His passing leaves.
I cannot know the depth of sorrow that you feel
Because I did not bear him,
But I loved him
As I'm sure I would have loved him
Had he been my own.
We cannot wish him back to suffer as he did,
But neither can we keep from missing him.
We know he's with the Lord.
He's happier than he ever was on earth;
And when we go to meet our Saviour,
He'll be waiting also with that special smile
To greet us.
With joy we'll embrace him
And never have to part from him again.
by Lucy M. Young
He's leaving us and going home to You.
We'll miss him, Lord,
But he'll be so much better off with You -
No more suffering or sadness,
Or struggling for every shallow breath;
No more wakeful, pain-filled nights.
He'll rest in comfort close to You.
I know that You were with him at the end.
I felt Your presence, Lord.
You held his hand and led him gently
Through his final hours here on earth.
Love him, Lord.
Grant him the peace and joy
That only You can give.
Help us bear the lonely emptiness his passing leaves,
And let him rest forever in Your love.
by Lucy M. Young
Lord, help me to forget myself completely;
Forget the disappointment
Of learning my abilities are so inadequate.
Give me the strength
To overcome the fear of failure.
Help me break the chains of doubt
That keep me from fulfilling my desire to serve.
I am so weak,
faint-hearted and afraid;
Help me to rise above these things
That hold me back.
Oh, how I wish that I might have
Some great and glorious talent I could share
To make the world a better place to live;
But I am just an ordinary person
With only love to give,
So help me, Lord, to find what I can do
To bring the knowledge of Your love
To all who are discouraged, sad or lonely.
Forgetting myself completely,
May I bring cheer and comfort
To this little corner where I live.
Woodsmoke and Cardamom 