Happy Birthday Grandma!

My grandma turns 89 today. (This is the only picture I had close by of her. )

To honor her this day, I decided to post a picture of one of her paintings and post one (or two) of her poems. And since she now has dementia and never checks the Internet she can't tell me not to (because if she knew what I was doing she would.).

This is a painting she did of roses. To me it is the epitome of Grandma's paintings- Roses painted with oil paints. She painted a lot of roses. If she knew I was posting this online she would NOT be happy about it. I'm pretty sure it's unfinished (because it was never framed) and I'm pretty sure she never thought it was that great considering when we were cleaning out her house we found it in a drawer. But, sorry Grandma, I like it. It reminds me of you.

I am having a hard time choosing which of her poems to put. And since it's her birthday and it's my blog and I can do whatever I want, I've decided to post two poems. One about her as a little girl playing on a swing and one that about her testimony of the Sabbath.

Box Elder Beginning

By Lucille Rampton Perry

Twin trees marked my seasons as I grew,

Frail leaves changed to measure of the light,

Between two trunks a slim pole joined the two

To hold my swing...my vehicle of flight.

My feet wore out the grass between the trees

With push and soar and point toes to the sky!

When bent across the board with dusty knees

I bruised the earth, I twisted ropes to fly

In circles until sun and leaves were one.

There I heard the gulls scream children's names,

and leaning in the swing, I answered back.

I was a seagull, playing seagull games.

Then soaring, made the old beam sigh and crack.

My brother built a perch out on a limb

That overlooked white lilac's topmost spray.

The purple morning glories vied with him,

And climbed the house to tell the time of day.

Like chirping sparrows, eagerly we played

Around, and in the green box elder shade.

Box elder trees grow old, green willows sprout,

Around the twisted root that thrust so deep;

They wave new wands through worm, and wind, and drought,

As magic as the memories I keep.

Song of the Sabbath

by Lucille Rampton Perry

My way today is a quiet way

That my Lord has bade me go;

It does not lead to the market place

Or the pleasures that I know.

Yesterday's manna is gathered up,

So today my hands are free

To partake of the supper He has prepared

And the rest He offers me

Whether I walk this way alone,

Or come with a happy throng,

The welcome of love is always there,

And the peace of the Sabbath song.

I kneel at His feet showing unclean hands,

And ask for His healing touch;

Draw from the power of perfect love,

Discarding my fear and my crutch.

As the woman, not stoned, but forgiven all,

And the blind man whose eyes now see,

I worship in church on the Sabbath day,

That wholeness, through Him, might be.

Great is the gift of this Holy day

And the promises, freely made,

As I remember His sacrifice

And the debt that He gladly paid.

Thanks for leaving such a great heritage with your poems, Grandma. In some ways they are better than a journal because your feelings and experiences shine through each one.

Happy Birthday!

*Kim and I are in the process (the very very beginning process) of making a book of all of Grandma's paintings and poems. If any of you family members have or know of any poems or paintings of hers, let us know so we can get pictures of them or copies and put them in the book!