THE HONEY FARM

When Grandma met Louis
it was love at first sight,
with eyes just for each other
they were higher than a kite.

On the evening of their wedding
we gave them a shivery,
and found them in the rocking chair
she was sitting on his knee.

So obvious for all to see
their faces all aglow,
we were all so happy for them
all their love was there to show.

In the happy years that followed
I spent summer weeks with them,
and each morning woke to cowbells
as they went to pasture in the glen.

The smell of farm fresh eggs a-frying
on the wood stove in the kitchen,
Grandma’s homemade bread and butter
for these goodies I was itching.

There was a cup of green tea
pan fried potatoes and some bacon,
the smell was oh so heavenly
my empty tummy was all aching.

Replete with morning’s repast
I ventured out to seek,
all the creatures in the barnyard
to give each one a peek.

There was a big eyed baby calf
so beautiful to see,
I fed him milk from out a pail
under the watchful eyes of Louis.

Out behind the homestead
was a gnarled old apple tree,
but also boxes were nearby
filled with the dreaded honey bees.

It seemed the bees were everywhere
they seemed angry in the heat,
and they chased me to the house
a hasty trail I had to beat.

There was a shed to cap the racks
of their nectar golden, sweet,
I would chance a visit to it
some honeycomb to eat.

At night we’d sit outside awhile
as the light began to fade,
bats would swoop and dive so close
boy, was I afraid.

At bedtime, in trepidation
I would climb the creaky stairs,
alone and trembling in my boots
there were shadows everywhere.

Once in my bed I laid all stiff
expecting God knows what,
the only action I did get
were mosquitos I had to swat.

I heard the mice within the walls
scurrying here and there,
I made sure my toes were covered
so they wouldn’t bite me unawares.

Before I knew it morning’s sun
shining through my window pane,
awoke me from a harrowed night
I was safe and sound again.

With all my fears forgotten
another day with all it’s charm,
was mine to live and cherish
on my Grandma’s honey farm.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Jan. 16, 2007

THE VISIT

As I come to spend some time
with You my Saviour, so sublime,
my soul in need of Your loving care
to converse with You Lord, my all to share.

You’ve waited long and patiently
for my visit to You in my misery,
I’ve been afraid of the pain that would tag along
keeping my heart from singing Your song.

Precious time has been wasted
Your banquet ,too long left untasted,
I ask of You Lord, before it’s too late
rekindle Your fire, oh Lord I can’t wait.

The pain of rejection followed You everyday
by Your example, You showed us the way,
help us sweet Jesus remember to pay
a visit of love in Your presence, each day.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Jan. 15,2007

SUMMERS ON THE FARM

School was out again, and the lazy days of summer were scattered before us, to spend in whatever way we so desired. We had waited for this the whole school year, dreaming of swimming, of going to the park, of just spending time with the kids in the neighbourhood, or just lazing around the house watching mom and dad doing what ever they were doing. I learned a few things that way and I’m sure it had the effect of putting mom’s mind at ease because she knew where we were. Then out of the blue we were going for a week’s holiday to our Uncle’s and Aunt’s farm a few miles up the road at the Black River Bridge where we turned left and climbed a narrow, dusty and very steep road that veered to the right at the top of the hill, and descended down the curving road and ended in our Uncle’s sandy front yard. The house was old, but homey and pleasant, and with all my cousins, also very noisy. There was always the constant slam of the old screen door as we went in and out with the words “shut the door, you’re letting the flies in”. It all fell on deaf ears as we were too pre-occupied with what we were doing to heed any such command. Oh those glorious days of visiting the barn and all the animals, of collecting fresh eggs right from under the hen. Watching our Uncle milk the doe-eyed cows, whose tails were busy shooing away the pesky flies, and then to get our attention, he’d squirt milk in our faces, and our reactions would make him laugh. He was a bit of a practical joker and got a big kick out of pulling our legs with his impromptu witticisms. There was never a dull moment. Though there was much work to be done on the farm, life I found, moved slower in the country. To hear the lowing of the cows and the clang of their bells as they arrived at the barn for milking and the snorting and oinking of the pigs as they trampled each other to gain access to the feed trough. It was all glorious to a town kid and mysterious and magical and smelly. I must not forget our Aunt’s meals, who could forget our Aunt’s meals; all fabricated in a “ tropical” kitchen, where the wood stove was belting out enough heat to singe the hairs off our arms if we got too close. The food was plentiful and succulent and the smell of it, as we got hungrier, drew us, as we played ever closer to the house in anticipation of a feast. All through the house were icons of their faith and the love of God was everywhere. When night time rolled around, we tended to get a little home sick tears were shed, but with all the living that was going on, you didn’t stay that way long. In bed, with the lights out, (and when they were out, it was pitch black) you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face and all we heard was the buzzing of mosquitoes as they zinged by our ears, so we covered up over our heads for protection, only to smother and sweat in the heat. We kids would start to giggle in our beds and as it started to get real late, our Aunt would get the strap and slap it on the stairs, to warn us that, she’d be up there if we didn’t go to sleep. She never did come up ever! Mornings consisted of more of my Aunt’s good food and then off to the barn again, this time to see the many cats and kittens that seemed to come out of the woodwork when it was milking time. What a sight, and how they loved it when they were given fresh warm milk to lap up, which left their whiskers all covered in foam. They were easier to get to know than the cats at our grandmother’s farm. Because there weren’t any children around, the cats were wild and we suffered many a scratching just to hold them. It was worth it, and if we held them long enough they settled down and began to purr. It was heaven and to this day these happy memories keep returning to fill me with the joys of my youth. Thank you Lord for these happy days.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Jan. 13, 2007

WITH EYES WIDE OPEN

In these times of unrest, poverty, and wars of invading darkness and blind leaders, of unthinkable dastardly deeds acted out in coldness and hatred, with no thought of who gets hurt, and not caring who their victims are. Death is everywhere, the worst being the death of souls so alarming to the souls that are striving to live Your truths. We see our families being torn asunder, the Sacrament of marriage being disfigured and disgraced by laws that are taking our once compassionate country down to the pit. When will this madness end? Why have so many of God’s children allowed themselves to be dragged down the wrong road by false prophets and those who tickle their minds and draw us slowly, silently towards the abyss. So many are sleep walking, and unaware of what’s happening right under their noses. That’s the way Satan works! Little by little he blinds us with his lies until we are lost to The Truth. Then Lord, they turn against You with a vengeance and they start to attack others for their belief in You and some stay in our congregations only to corrode from within. Lord, I pray that You will be merciful and draw these, Your confused children back into the fold, and as for me Lord, I ask that you keep Your Word in my heart and that my eyes will be ever open so to see You Lord as You draw them back to the Father, and to the mansions You have prepared for them. Daily let us pray from the heart, “Come Lord Jesus” and bring an end to the darkness. Amen.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Jan. 12, 2007

GONE FISHING

In days gone by I wondered
what was Your will for me,
I was young in faith and knowledge
I saw not, what was to be.

I saw You as a distant God
that You were way up there,
but I also felt the power
of Your mystery everywhere.

The seed of faith You gave me
began to stretch and grow,
as I searched and learned about You
Your true love I came to know.

The more I knew, the more I hungered
I wanted ever more,
the desire for Your perfect love
went to live within my core.

I took You to my yearning heart
accepted all You had to give,
we are one in love together
for as long as I shall live.

Lord, now I’m ever fishing
to bring others to Your grace,
so they can be as one with You
and meet You face to face.

The only bait that I can use
is the example of my life,
and show all that You love them
and bring them toYour Light.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Jan. 11, 2007

THE WHEELS OF TIME

When as a child filled with the wonder of a world so beautiful and mysterious, where I romped and played to my hearts content.No worries or cares in my childishness, just glorious days to drink in all of the Creator’s handiwork and skip and play and seek all His treasures. Even then, I was beguiled and pondered the idea of a God who was watching over me in my daily adventures. Time was so slow, and I believe it was so I could take in all of His miracles because everything was so new and I had so much to learn. With each passing day I stored in my being the beauty of the earth, the joys of family, friends and neighbours, also the sorrows that life can bring. I was a good listener even then, and my ears and eyes picked up many different nuances in the words and actions of my playmates and my elders. It was as if I could see into their hearts and I could feel what they felt. At Church on Sunday, though I couldn’t see above the front of the pew, and stood on the kneeler to see, I knew something special was happening even though all was in Latin. There was a glorious mystery in it all and some times I seemed to float out of the Church, my feet not touching the ground. I was too young to understand it, but I felt it just the same. When as a teenager and filled with curiosity and doubt and insecurity I squirmed and sweat when with my peers we shared activities and school projects, I began to notice that the days were getting shorter and time along with them. Summer holidays seemed at least a month shorter and it sometimes made me fretful, as if I had better hurry or I’d miss the boat But it didn’t end there. Now as a mother, whose children have nearly all fled the coup, time is like quick silver, passing through my fingers at an alarming rate and leaving me breathless and wondering,” where did the years go, what have I accomplished, am I ready for what lies ahead”. Life has taken it’s toll and I guess time is shorter now because we’ve pretty much seen it all. It’s all stored in our hearts and minds, the one problem being that our memories have become porous and the scenes and dreams of the past are slipping out of our grasp. This too is normal, because like Jesus who was stripped of everything before He died, we too must go the same route to one day be resurrected with Him for all eternity. So be it.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Jan. 04, 2007

THE BOOK OF DAYS

The hands of the clock have ticked their last
as this year becomes a thing of the past.
Before moving on, we stop for a look
back to the memories that fill this old book.

Now it’s time to move on
there are new pages to fill,
to succumb to the Hand
our life’s stories His will.

Making resolutions by habit
to improve this problem or that,
sometimes we really do make it
sometimes we fall flat.

Weight lost, then regained
causes many a frown,
bad habits erased
again, I’ve let myself down.

I’ve tried to be happy
by trying to please,
everyone else’s idea
of who and what I should be.

Now it’s time, as I see it
to take from each day,
what the Lord has perfected
I’ll do it His way.

His gifts of faith, hope and love
each blessing, each grace,
His mercy, forgiveness
I’ll forever embrace.

With gifts such as these
I can never go wrong,
this new book will be written
filled with praise and with song.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Jan. 02, 2007