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    I’ve been reading another book in a series by a favored author and during some sleepless early morning hours I lay musing over why I like her writing style so much.  It was then the lightbulb turned on brighter than usual and I realized it’s partly because her characters have repetitious traits that remain constant.  “Ah, ha!” to quote her main character!  And I am a person who is extremely resistant to change!

    As I thought a bit more deeply I realized those are the exact traits that made children’s stories so appealing to me…I always asked Mamma to read the same one or two stories every night, never wavering to the right or to the left.

    In a world that changes daily those stories and characters were always constant, never changing, dependable.  Today as I read and follow the antics of these particular people, the same holds true of their traits:

always constant, never changing, dependable.

    Summed up in a word:


©Marilyn Sue (Libby)Moore       July 30, 2008



    Today I drove along a San Angelo, Texas, city street and was swiftly transported back in distance and dreams to West Garland, Maine, caused by a brief glimpse of a rope swing hanging from a sturdy branch of a tall, leafless tree.  Such a simple sight sent a scatter of emotion surging through my mind.

    Sixty years ago I was eight years old and spent many happy hours in my own dreamland swinging on a rope swing with a wooden plank seat not so different from the one I saw today.  Mine was lovingly made by my daddy using rope especially chosen, hung, and knotted securely over the brawny branch of a butternut tree that stood among a variety of trees in the edge of a large empty field behind our house in the country.  Not only did Daddy take care to make sure the rope was serviceable, he did all he could to assure the quality of the wooden plank seat was sturdy, smooth, and splinter-free!

    The time I spent on my swing gave me good exercise in body and mind.  I usually sat to swing but used my legs and pulled on the ropes with my arms to get a pumping action going so I could go higher and higher until I could feel the rope begin to jerk with the slackening that occurred when I got too high.  I don’t understand the logistics involved so I cannot explain them.  I only know it happened and scared me enough that I knew I ought to lay off the pumping and lower the height, so at that point I rested from my labors and just enjoyed the ride! 

    That was the major part of the bodily exercise but I also sang a whole lot during the time I was on that swing so even my lungs got a workout in good clean air.  The time on my swing was some of the happiest time I spent during my growing-up years and as I think back now I realize it was also an emotional perk to have that freedom and fun. Since the nearest neighbors were some distance away, the only ones to suffer from my musical masterpieces that included yodeling would have been the squirrels as they tried gathering butternuts and building nests in the surrounding trees.  From time to time they joined in on some of the choruses…or did I misinterpret?  Perhaps they were covering their little ears and begging me to stop?! (Here’s where I wish I were an artist!)

    That last thought leads into the next one: my body did get a workout while I was on that wonderful rope swing but so did my mind.  Imagination is a wonderful thing for a child and while off by myself I could not only let my body fly free through the air but also my imagination…and I did…often!  I could be whoever I wanted to be, do whatever I chose to do, and dream the biggest dreams imaginable to the mind of a child of eight years of age.  I did and I am glad.

    Now, I have become the fulfillment of the biggest dreams of that eight-year-old girl:

A WIFE and A MOTHER.  To me that was the grandest goal imaginable and as good as my imagination was I had no earthly idea how something so grand could continue to grow into the greater gift I continue to be given each day I live!  50+ years as a wife, becoming a mother and *mother-in-love (some call that *mother-in-law) to three, followed by grandmother to eight, great-grandmother to…that number has yet to be filled…

©Marilyn Sue (Libby) Moore       2-4-08




    How it gets to be Friday so fast every week is beyond me!  It seems there must be at least two in each week but if that were the case then there’d be two of every other day and that is not the case.  Getting through the work week to Saturdays used to be a goal well worth looking forward to but now each Saturday that follows those fast-arriving Fridays is not welcomed so positively.  I guess it bothers both John and me so much because we see the Fridays turning into fast-passing weeks, the weeks into months, the months into years and before we know it we are not only past retirement but far past it!

    On the other hand, instead of bemoaning the fact that Fridays seem to come around too fast we could choose to have a grateful attitude about being able to enjoy those fast Fridays as well as make the most of the days in between.  Also at this point in our lives simply knowing what day of the week it is can be beneficial.  Too often we have to pause to think exactly what weekday it is but we always know when Friday comes around! 

     Well, another Friday has come and nearly gone but with the few hours left I need to make the most of it and get more writing done.  That may be one way my one Friday this week can last into many future Fridays as someone reads what I have written and says, “Oh!  She felt this way, too!”

© Marilyn Sue Moore               10-6-06



    Someone's playing the radio.  It’s that same old song.  Actually it is a song with lovely harmony and the words create a pleasant picture but because of it’s tremendous popularity I am tired of hearing it.  You may wonder why and I can hardly wait to tell you.

    I am in my mid-teens and the song is Mockin’ Bird Hill played and sung by Les Paul and Mary Ford.  The clock radio in my room sounds forth with the beginning strains of THE SONG just prior to my turning it off and heading down the stairs to have my breakfast. 

    The city in which I live has three local broadcasting stations.  We have one radio in our living room that my mother has tuned to one of those stations where Mockin’ Bird Hill is playing.

    Since Mamma has made such a big thing out of the fact that she loves hearing that song I make an equally impressive stand about having heard it far too often.  With a dramatic move I turn the radio knob to another of the stations only to find that station is also playing Mockin’ Bird Hill, also by Les Paul and Mary Ford of course!  It didn’t take but a second of hearing that for me to switch that knob to the third and final station where, in desperation I had to give up because…you probably have guessed it by now…they were playing her song….Mockin’ Bird Hill!  I did mention that it was popular that year, didn’t I?

©Marilyn Sue Moore                   2-21-07



    There is a prayer poem I have always loved that asks time to turn backward and make me a child again. Many people seem to hold that prayer close in their hearts at this season of the year and I am no exception.

    With the passing of my brother in April, the passing of my mother's younger brother in October, and witnessing the effects of the aging processes on my mother over this past year, I realize I am losing much of what made me who I am and made my childhood a happy life.   

    During the winter season I've longed to return to the small village in Maine where I grew up; to walk where I used to walk to school, where my brothers, my friends, and I used to slide.  Traffic was seldom seen on those roads so we could slide on the narrow roads and we had plenty of snow on which to slide!

    I've found myself listening to (and looking for) music that was popular during

my growing-up years.

    In my mind, I ask, "WHY?" already knowing the answers.  I do not adjust easily to change and perhaps emotionally I don't want any more changes.  In reality, I know I'm an adult.  When I consider all the changes of life I recall I wouldn't ask for it to be different.  I KNOW God works all together for my good.  I see that as I look over the happenings of my life...especially the change that growing up brought and growing in love with that young man who became my best friend and wonderful husband.  Following along with that memory-trail, I see our three babies, now all adults with wonder-full families of their own!  The sharing by these families is helping make more memories so the future looks bright!

    No, in reality, I do not really want to be a child again...but, please, just in memory,  could I once more be a child for just a little while?

    Thank you. God, for memories!

©Marilyn Sue Moore                   12-23-94



          I saw beauty in the remains of a dead tree in our neighborhood today.

What had once been a sturdy living tree was now without bark but the silver-white stump gleamed in the sun like the satin of a bridal gown.  Appendages that were outstretched towards the brilliant blue sky gave mute testimony to the tree’s demise.  As I considered the beauty in that dead tree I wondered, Is this how God saw us when we were dead in our sins?  (“And ye were dead in your trespasses and sins…” Ephesians 2:1 NASV) Once that question was in my mind my imagination took over.

          I started thinking about all the good that could come from that dead tree whose beauty had already attracted me: picture frames, wooden plaques, decorative/useful bowls, and heat on a cold day. 

I was reminded of how much more God can do with our once-dead selves.  Like the picture frames we can frame His Word in our lives to deliver beauty to His world.  We can be like wooden plaques and share His words in a beautiful setting.   Just as wooden bowls are useful as well as decorative we can be useful, beautiful vessels. And, as the warmth from a fire on a chilly day, we can use God-like encouraging attitudes that can be warmth to help thaw the chilled hearts of lost and wandering souls.

May we use the beauty in the dead trees to remind us of God’s love for the hidden beauty in dead souls…building materials just waiting to be made into beautiful gifts for our God.

©Marilyn Sue Moore                   3-11-03


To My Mother Because I Love Her

I have prayed to God for wisdom

And His answers here you see;

My gift is to be a giver,

As Christ gave His life for me.

I thank Him for the teaching

Earlier given me by you;

Now ‘tis mine to return by living

The Truths you brought to view.

May I help you on your journey

As you travel day by day;

May I make the paths seem sweeter

As here on earth you stay.

May I be as kind to you

As I’d have you be to me;

May I help you on your journey

‘til our Lord in Heav’n you see.

©Marilyn Sue Moore   June 15, 1992

“Therefore we do not lose heart,

but though our outer man is decaying,

yet our inner man is being

renewed day by day.”

2 Corinthians 4:16 (NASB)







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