Some Say

Some Say

© 2019 Mollie Pearce McKibbon

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Some say I believe myths, Lord,

But I think that’s so unfair

Since they believe that U F O’s

Are flying everywhere.

 

Some say You are a crutch, Lord,

But You’re just what I need

For I am lame in Spirit

And your help makes me succeed.

 

Some say its just happenstance

All the miracles I see,

But miracles keep happening

When I ask You faithfully.

 

Some say that I am blind, Lord,

To the truth that science finds,

But I cannot forget, Lord,

That You made those human minds.

 

Although I love my friends, Lord,

I know they’ve been misled.

Please open up their hearts, Lord,

To the truth You’ve done and said.

The One Who Makes the Wind Obey

Jesus Calms the storm                                                                                               

The One Who Makes the Wind Obey
© 2019 Mollie Pearce McKibbon

1)
The ocean swells with the rising tide
And I cannot see the other side.
My craft is small and the water deep,
But I must cross it before I sleep.

refrain
How wonderful to trust my frail steps
To the One who made the ocean depths;
To the One who makes the wind obey,
My Jesus, who carries me all the way.

2)
As I sail over the bounding waves,
I trust my soul to the One who saves,
Mightier is He than any king,
God, the Maker of everything.

3)
I am never alone, have no fear,
For my Protector is always near.
He guides me through every storm
And shelters me from eternal harm.

Trinket Box for Mother’s Day

I do love the dollar stores where I get most of my craft supplies. Our church craft club plans to make Mother’s Day gifts for the Seniors at our local manor.  I completed three crafts for examples of what we are going to make.  Here are the results:

  1. A felt-lined wooden trinket box with decoupaged flowers from a paper napkin on the top and sides.
  2. Three felt flower brooches with safety pin backs.
  3. Cupcake wrapper flowers in a lace embellished glass jar.

Decoupaged top of trinket box for mother's DayTrinket box for Mother's Day

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felt flower brooches for Mothers Day

Cupcake wrapper flowers for Mothers Day

Something About That Man

Jesus carrrying his Cross

 

Something About That Man

© 2016 Mollie Pearce McKibbon

 

Oh, what’s the hubub in the street?

I hear the sound of marching feet.

I hear the shouts of and angry crowd-

They’re coming near; they’re getting loud.

 

See the Man with the crown of thorns?

He is the one that King Herod scorns.

They’re driving him up Godgotha’s slope-

A merciless place without hope.

 

There’s something about that Man’s face

Reminds me of a time or place

Where he and his friends shared their meal

And went about to teach and heal.

 

They say he now claims to be God

And his miracles were a fraud.

But I saw the lame he made walk,

The blind to see, the mute to talk.

 

I heard the stories that he taught

And felt the hope that Man brought.

I must protest this awful fate

Brought on because of fear and hate.

 

Yet, I stand silent on the hill,

Urging my conscience to be still

And when they plant that awful tree,

My voice is stopped; my eyes won’t see.

 

As I gaze at the darkened sky,

I hear his words, his groaning cry,

“Father,  forgive them for my sake,’

And I feel my own heart break.

 

 

What’s the Buzz?

This is the spring pattern I designed for material to make a pillow and two tea towels. It was  fun to draw, easily sewn, and is a cheery addition to my kitchen.  It is just the reminder of coming garden flowers that I need in April.  I drew the black on white design, scanned it and filled in the colour in Photo Shop.  Then I uploaded it to Spoonflower.  Now the tea towel hangs in my kitchen and the pillow is on our couch.

What's the Buzz?#edit

Dad Taught Me to Love Books

Dad looking out to sea

My reading life didn’t have an auspicious beginning.  I spent most of my grade one year at home sick with every childhood illness going – chicken pox, red measles, scarlet fever etc.  This was before inoculations for these diseases.  Consequently, my opportunity to learn to read was limited.  Our grade one class was divided into reading groups named Robins, Sparrows and Skylarks.  Although the labels were designed to disguise our reading prowess, we all knew the skylarks were the best.  My parents learned with shock at one of the parent/teacher confabs that their little “genius” was in the bottom group – the Robins.  That decided it.  Dad would soon change that status.

So began a daily regimen of reading practice that I dreaded.  Dad would sit in his easy chair, my reader on his lap and I was instructed to stand behind him and read every word perfectly.  If I made a mistake or tried to fudge it by adding a word that wasn’t there, I had to go back and repeat the whole sentence however many times it took me to get it all correct.  It was tortuous.  I usually ended up in tears, mom would be all for giving me a rest, but Dad was relentless.  No child of his was going to stay in the Robins group.

I should probably explain that my father was an officer in the Royal Canadian Navy, trained in communications.  My lack of reading skill was an affront to his training.  So he persisted in drilling my recalcitrant brain to recognize and sound-out syllables until I understood what the dancing black symbols spelled.  It might have been a total failure had I not wanted so badly to be able to read.

Mom and Dad had read books to us before bedtime every night.  They read our favourites over and over.  I loved “Beauty and the Beast”, “The Little Red Hen” and the now totally politically incorrect “Little Black Sambo”.  I knew them by heart and wanted desperately to read any time, not just at bedtime.  So I stood behind Dad’s chair every night for two solid weeks until I could read my whole “Dick and Jane” reader without stumbling.  My teacher was astonished at my progress and I got an immediate promotion to the Skylark group.  Ever after that she had to continually tell me not to read ahead of the others.

Once I knew how to read, I was voracious.  I read anything in front of me from the backs of cereal boxes to the daily newspaper.  That last item became the bone of contention between Dad and me as time went on.  Dad liked to read the newspaper first when he got home and sometimes, if I wasn’t quick enough to put it back together, he would discover a missing section and knew exactly where it was.  Heeheehee – his reading drills came back to haunt him.

As I got older Dad and I shared a love for mysteries, historical novels and Zane Grey westerns which we traded back and forth.  After reading so much, I began to want to write my own stories and well, the rest, as is said, is history.  Thank you Dad, for the gift of my favourite pastime -reading.

Snowblowers & Instant Mashed Potatoes

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You are no doubt wondering what snowblowers have to do with dried mashed potatoes and the answer is nothing except that they are both Canadian inventions.  I became well- acquainted with instant mashed potatoes or a forerunner of them when we lived up above the tree line in Aklavik, Northwest Territories.  Up there almost every food was dried or reconstituted, even our milk.  Mom mixed our milk up every day and we got to like it eventually.  Dried potatoes were not as smooth as instant mashed but that was invented by Edward A. Assbergs in 1962 probably after eating a spoonful of the dried version we had up north.

As far as snowblowers are concerned, the first one was invented by another Canadian , Arthur Sicard in 1925, probably after digging himself out of the kind of snowstorm we had a few days past.  Now we could have used one of those machines up north, but it hadn’t been on the “to-bring” or “to ship” list we were given by the military commander my father was replacing.  It was definitely an oversight.

Another Canadian invention that we all employ is the ordinary zipper.  God bless Gideon Sundback who had the foresight to invent this handy fastener in 1913.  I’m not fond of sewing zippers into clothing, but I am very glad to purchase clothing with them.  I don’t know who invented Vaseline but I think that anyone who has ever struggled with as stuck  zipper must be as glad as I am that it was invented.

Another invention that helped with an onerous household task is the paint roller and we have Norman Breaker of Toronto to thank for that in 1940. He was no doubt anxious to save countless husbands from the back-breaking and time-consuming paint brushing  up and down ladders when we wives get that redecorating twinkle in our eyes.

Of course none of us would know the colour of a wall at night without the invention of the light bulb.  Thomas Edison bought the patent for that wonderful invention from Henry Woodward who successfully invented it in 1874 – also a Canadian.

These are just a few of the inventions that Canadians have given to the busy homemaker over the years, but they are some of the ones for which I am grateful.