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A View From My Window
By Marjorie Patricia Brooks Curtis
AuthorHouseCopyright © 2012 Marjorie Patricia Brooks Curtis
All right reserved.
I want to live my life in front of a window.
I want to see my neighbors when they mow.
I want to see the light, the rain, and the snow.
When the sun shines or the wind blows,
I want to know.
Thank God for My Yard
Thank God for my yard and
thank heaven for my home.
Thanks for the plants in my garden,
watched by the garden gnome.
Thank You for cheery windows
that make worries scamper away
and for the view of distant fields
that frame the trees that sway.
Thank You for the clutter,
I've got projects going galore.
I'll happily clean it spotless
to make room for more.
Thank You for those few friends
who come by to share.
And in all my comings and goings,
I'll always keep You there.
I will be in amazing places as
I have been before. With waning
confidence to venture, I will
lie in the grass — a sticky
seed waiting to attach to a
savvy traveler with sympathy
for one born without a sense of
I will see rolling hills and
quaint little quilting towns,
upstate New York and bask under
the Tuscan sun.
My face will appear at weddings
and be a fixture at family events.
Graduation? Where? I will be there.
Oh, to see you one more time
to stand close, to touch.
I know it's not true love
but I desire you so much.
Oh, to see the glimmer in your
eye—an excited ready man
with anticipation of a
rendezvous close at hand.
Oh, to have you think of me
when you are gone away
and to have you make plans
to rush back to me some day.
Happy in My Skin
People laugh at me,
the way I rip and run.
As long as someone's laughing
I know I'm having fun.
People talk about me,
the half baked things I do.
As long as someone's talking
my personality's shining through.
Some people wish me well,
some are waiting for the fall;
and I remember as I go along
that the Creator made us all.
The Next Best Things
Lonely ladies know the best thing,
nice work if you can get it.
But it's mostly for the young and frisky,
so why sit around and fret it.
You can enjoy the next best things – loud
sultry Delta blues everywhere,
catfish cooked on the back porch, and
dear old friends who're always there.
Support your clubs and organizations,
attend to your church duties dutifully,
and you'll see that the next best things
can fill your heart with glee.
Being With Myself
I enjoy being with myself
for I best know my mood.
I know when I want to jump up and down
and when I want to brood.
I know when I want to sit
and watch the rising of the sun
and when I want to go out
and have some rollicking fun.
I know when I want to eat
an opulent festive meal
and when I want to nibble
and do a healthy deal.
I know when I must step up
and solve the problems that I see
and when I can sit back
and just let it be.
I know when I want my surroundings
very neat for my peace of mind
and when other things more
important demand my time.
I know the best times are
when friends are around
but I'm not afraid to be alone
when things are looking down.
At some point as we get older, our biological clock ticks
Louder and louder ...
Tick – a new joint pain
Tock – stronger glasses
Tick – a strong odor
Tock – tooth loss
Tick – hurting feet
Tock – stiffness
Tick – fear of travel
Tock – hair loss
Tick – slowness of recall
Tock – unsteady gait
Tick – loss of night vision
Tock – perplexity with technology
But we are so happy to be retired,
we throw the clock out of the window and enjoy our
flexible schedule, our grandchildren, disposable cash, and
There's with me a feeling that life
would be a breeze and all would be fine
if we would get up off of it and
do things at the proper time.
But each morning's new resolutions
fade away as the day begins
and the lazy decide to wait
until tomorrow and do it then.
Each nine stitches taken
when one might have done
bring fresh vows for action
when a good time comes.
There's no self-pity or excuses
however, we often wonder why
some tackle tasks promptly while
others put them off with a sigh.
In Its Place
Eating in Restaurants
It's all about being out,
not eating until you pop.
It's about enjoying God's bounty
and knowing when to stop.
It's about having friends
who want to share your company.
It's not about cramming it in
until little stars you see.
It's about seeing old pals
or relaxing with your kin.
It's about nourishing the body,
loving life, and staying thin.
Saying Goodbye to Deadly
Brands of Comfort
Bitter sweetness is saying goodbye
to friends who've comforted us in despair.
Friends like Sara Lee and Mrs. Fields
who are waiting eagerly to be there.
With sugars, nuts, and just enough fat,
oh, they have their special skills.
But, Sara and Mrs. Fields, so long,
your brands of comfort kill.
Your familiar satiety and stupor
have consistently seen us through,
but forgive us for getting rid of
the obsession we had with you.
We are thrilled with our new true friends:
apples, pears, or occasional nuts.
A brisk walk and healthful eating have
produced more favorable results.
I glanced at the mirror
and almost wanted to cry.
I heard a little voice say,
"Change your ways or die."
To excesses I say, "No Thanks,"
I had better pass.
To recklessness I say, "No Way,"
my body too must last.
To the future I say, "Right On!"
Let the good times roll.
Things get better and better
as I get old.
The Good Lord gave me a spark
and with it I have gotten along.
On occasion it burned brilliantly and
sometimes it was almost gone.
I've made mistakes a plenty,
but my spark kept me from the edge.
I was also careful not to smother it
as I worked for my bread.
My spark has always come through
and has given me a vision.
It always showed me the way to go
when making a life decision.
Thank you God for my spark,
for its comfort through the years.
And for not letting it go completely out
when faced with disappointment and tears.
Thank you for the courage
to accept my little spark
without jealousy of those who have
shown brighter in the dark.
I appreciate my little spark
and have nurtured it to this place.
Let me now shed a faint light
to others who run the race.
I Get It Lord
I get it Lord!
Your task set for me,
I must go out and
reflect the good of thee.
I get it Lord!
I must reach out for power.
I must stand strong
in a weak and doubtful hour.
I get it Lord!
I have to finally grow.
I must stand the burn
to brightly project Your glow.
I get it Lord!
I must be loving and kind
and have helping others
foremost in my mind.
I get it Lord!
Your work is my daily task.
In our earthly life only
what we do for You will last.
Toil to Be Worthy
We're all low life,
that's the way we were born.
And between the right and wrong
we are perpetually torn.
We're all filled with sin,
that's the way we are made.
The first couple on this earth
did what was forbade.
We all have skeletons hidden,
our proverbial closets are full.
What a struggle for humankind
to resist the evil pull.
We all may avail ourselves to hope
through His loving mercy and grace
as we ever toil to be worthy
to meet Him face to face.
We Want Him Near
No matter how we doubt with a cynical smirk
No matter how we try with sophistication to fill the void
No matter how we snicker at those who are so sure and
hold Him so dear
when the chips are down, we want Him near.
No matter how we point to inconsistencies in The Word
No matter how we say they use religion as a crutch
No matter how we say they praise Him
with a hypocritical shout and tear
when storm clouds gather, we want Him near.
No matter how we say the charlatan preachers
dupe the faithful for gain
No matter how we say they're squandering on
worn out houses of worship
No matter how we wonder if
God is still here
when all else fails, we want Him near.
I Want to Suffer
I want to suffer the dog tiredness when I could be resting
I muster a second wind to help a friend who needs me.
I want to suffer the sense of deprivation when I sacrifice and
give to the less fortunate things I dearly want for myself.
I want to suffer the pangs of conscience when I use my tithes
to buy luxuries with what belongs to the Lord.
I want to suffer the smothering feeling when holding my tongue
to keep from blasting one who has spoken unkind words to me.
I want to suffer the sadness of empathy when I avail myself
to be there to comfort one who has experienced loss.
I want to suffer the humility of rejection when
I keep reaching out to family in the spirit of caring and love.
And I pray to be worthy to suffer in His name and
to take it patiently for this is acceptable with God.
Calm Me Down Lord
Calm me down Lord when I have self-doubt.
Help me to see that happiness and joy do not
depend on size, looks, personality, or status,
and that obsessing on the pursuits of others
keeps me from developing my gifts and purposes.
Calm me down Lord when money's scarce.
Help me to see that a walk in the park
in the warm sunlight, a conversation with a small child,
a handful of flowers, or a kiss from a lover
are all priceless thrills that are free.
Calm me down Lord when life gets tough.
Help me to see that You give health and strength.
Also help me to see that struggle, toil, sweat, and strain
test my dedication, commitment, endurance
and make me stronger to do the work of the Kingdom.
A Variable God
Do you see Him in acts of kindness
from a stranger who risks his life?
Or do you see Him in violence, starvation,
gang war, drugs, and strife?
Do you see Him in spring flowers
and the earth in renewing germination?
Or do you see Him in terrible wars
that cripple many a struggling nation?
Do you see Him in beautiful children
whom we cherish with joy and pride?
Or do we see Him in harsh vengeance
when we stray to the evil side?
Worship Him in all of His variance,
He has sustained every age.
He has rewarded faithfulness gently
and corrected sinfulness with rage.
Living Your Faith
It's not what you have
but what you're willing to give.
It's not about what you preach
but about the way you live.
It's not about reading the Bible
for many hours each day.
It's about what you do for others
and the kind things you say.
It's not your doing church work
until your hands are tired,
but whether you encourage others
so that no talents are denied.
It's not about the beautiful
gospel songs you like to sing,
but if you take a little child
to nurture under your wing.
It's not whether you come
each time church doors open wide,
but your work in the community
to glorify Christ who died.
All Gifts Add to the Whole
God wants his people to have bounty
and by the fruits of their labor to live,
and to share with the poor and infirm that which
from their hearts they freely give.
You are admonished to study the Bible
and other Godly books on your shelf
for a better understanding of,
"Love your neighbor as yourself."
Continue with your church work,
tackling tasks both big and small.
For caring for God's house of worship
may be your only call.
And if singing gospel songs is the
only thing you're compelled to do,
thank God for the wonderful talent
He has generously given to you.
And if when church doors are open
you can only sit quietly in the pew,
your presence may be comforting to
those who are heartened by seeing you.
We sometimes tremble with moist eyes
when we think of close calls we have had:
the sleep at the wheel, the slippery wet road,
the sky high fever, the bullet whizzing by
our ear, or the tornado which took away half
of the house.
And we get another chill when thinking
of those who started with us and only
our memory of them is left.
Is it design or chance?
And if design, why would a vain,
shallow being be spared when many who
would have been part of the solution have
been snapped from our midst?
Deep down in our being we know that we
remain for a reason and when called
to His service, we must answer.
Joseph, with his God-given gift to interpret dreams
languished in jail for standing by his morals and resisting
the original cougar, Pharaoh's wife.
Seven fat cows, seven skinny cows, seven healthy heads of
grain, seven heads thin and scotched was the dream that
worried Pharaoh. He consulted every wise man he knew to
learn its meaning.
Joseph gave the God-inspired interpretation and gained
favor with Pharaoh. He rode high—money, clothes,
beautiful wife and power beyond his wildest imagination—
second only to Pharaoh. Little did he know that this was
the opening chapter to one of the darkest eras in Hebrew
His father, brothers, and their descendants were extended
the hospitality of Egypt until they became a threat—then
the trapped, enslaved, boy children killed.
And so with our glorious gifts from God: beauty, wealth,
and fame. Will they be sources of constant joy or cruel
I had a glorious interlude
in my monotonous little life.
It came quickly, unexpectedly
and oh my, what wining and dining,
grinning and skinning, squeezing and pleasing,
and ... raising a boy.
There was dreaming and scheming,
caring and sharing, and
weathering the storms of life.
And just as suddenly he was gone.
God sped her friendship over the miles
with warmth so precious and so dear.
Her encouragement and well wishes reached you
just as if she were near.
God sped her friendship over the miles,
she always remembered your special day.
Early mornings and late nights she brought joy and
cherished family and friends in her special way.
A precious gem, not in the rough,
but polished to a dazzling brightness
by riding the wild boar of life
and staying on top.
A valiant hero, not unsung,
her friends all sing her praises
knowing she'll fight by their side
until the turbulence subsides.
A wonderful mother, not uncherished,
her daughters call her blessed
and pray for half the wisdom
while raising up their own.
A talented teacher, never diminished,
her influence will linger on
as long as descendants of her students
continue to make a difference in the world.
On a Son's 21st Birthday
When a son becomes twenty-one the loving mother opens
the cage door and he soars out into the great wide open.
He is smart, strong, and healthy from the years of tender care
and his belly is filled with oats
which he feels and he flexes his muscles.
He strains to break the apron strings, to go his distance and
maintain his privacy as he struggles to make it on his own.
The mother watches from afar and is not disheartened by any
slight or rebuff for she knows that his happiness
depends on his independence.
And when the son has reached his potential and has latched on
to a niche in the world, his heart turns back to mother
with love and appreciation.
Who was it that His omnipotent hand
chose to nurture every land;
to make something of each boy and girl,
to rock the cradle and rule the world,
to shape the destiny of every soul,
every little life to shape and mold?
T'was the mother filled with love
chosen from the throne above.
Mothers found favor with God,
and won places in every heart.
Behind each great soul is a mother's story,
who deserves a part of the praise and glory.
She walks in virtue, she holds the home,
and no little one is forced to roam.
Mother, it fills my heart every time
I thank the Great God that you are mine!
Each of us is thrilled and honored
to be a full blooded Brooks,
to have distinguished relatives
and a few petty crooks.
We had a cherished grandmother
whom we all called "Dear",
and when we needed supervision
she was always near.
Parented by a teacher and principal,
we minded our P's and Q's,
and tried as hard as possible
to tighten our loose screws.
We were related to almost everyone
who attended Pine Grove Church,
to worship in love and friendship
always meant so much.
We had our mother's people
across the Mississippi line.
What mutual admiration when
our lives intertwined.
Sure we were dysfunctional
as families are prone to be,
but we were thankful for the roots
that anchor our family tree.
Sometimes a purpose driven soul appears,
seeking friendship in her life ...
A kind and gentle person
without malice or strife.
What a pleasure and a privilege
to glimpse into her existence,
with admiration for her courage
to meet struggles with persistence.
Friends come into our lives
and fill a longing or a need.
And through the give and take
we get wisdom we can heed.
And when a kind and noble soul moves on
and is only admired from afar,
we know that each blessed encounter
makes us who we are.
Excerpted from A View From My Window by Marjorie Patricia Brooks Curtis Copyright © 2012 by Marjorie Patricia Brooks Curtis. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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