PRECIOUS MEMORIES

Mother’s Day brings fondest memories
flooding back, your presence missed,
six long years have come and gone
since our farewells when we kissed.

Your smiling face still lingers
in my heart’s treasury,
and will until the end of time
for you meant so much to me.

All you taught us is as fresh today
as when spoken long ago,
your lessons on the ‘Golden Rule’
to our children now we show.

I pray that all your goodness
flows like a torrent through our veins,
and the pains you suffered for us
have not all been in vain.

I know you’re there with Jesus
living in His tender care,
and we await the day dear mother
when we go to meet you there.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
May 10, 2007

MARY’S ROSARY

Mother Mary has been sending
to all her children for some time,
messages of peace and pleading
shedding tears for all mankind.

She sees the depths of sinfulness
where we have come to dwell,
and her tears pour out in torrents
we hear not death’s warning knell.

Mary’s pleas of Pray, Pray, Pray
say the Rosary everyday,
if all were to heed this message
it could bring a brand new day.

Each Hail Mary prayed with fervour
will bring her mantle down,
to cover all our families
unity at last be found.

The Hail Mary’s lead us to Jesus
in every Our Father prayed,
His Prayer given to us
to help us see His way.

In the Glory be’s we praise Him
for all His gifts divine,
especially His eternal love
and for our Mother so sublime.

It only takes a little time
from out our days of busyness,
the rewards will be a multitude
of pure grace and happiness.

The world at last will start to change
and Satan will be chained,
with his demons and his cohorts
eternally in Hell to reign

Margaret Rose Larrivee
May 08, 2007

P A I N

Though this day is bright with sunshine
hope and blessings all renewed,
increasing pain keeps me from smiling
how will I endure the whole day through.

I know You’re always with me Lord
for You promised so to do,
when pain mounts up to fever pitch
it blocks all thoughts of You.

I hate to say these dreadful words
I’m only human through and through,
don’t let it get the best of me
oh God keep me near to You.

For oh Lord, I know You suffered
much more than I do now,
please help me Lord to carry
my cross, do show me how.

I long to join my suffering
to Yours and for all time,
bring souls to dwell with You in Paradise
heaven’s stairway soon to climb.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
May 06, 2007

M Y D A D

My dad was always a quiet and gentle man.
Sometimes you barely knew he was around, and the thing
I always noticed the most about him was his perseverance
as he went about his tasks around the house or how he
endured a job at the Hunter’s Veneer Plant for years, a job
that in my eyes, even as a child, found too much for his frail
frame. His fingers were always covered with tape as they
were burned raw by the hot veneer coming out of the driers.
Even worse was the position he held there before that one.
He used to stand above a boiling pit where the logs soaked to
get rid of the bark and in the winter when it was time to come
home for the day, he was drenched from the steam and when he arrived,
his clothes were frozen on his body. He had no ride and walked all the time.
Never did we hear a complaint and it makes my heart weep for this man
who literally worked his fingers to the bone for his family.
That wasn’t the end of his work for in the summer he and mom
tended a huge garden with enough produce to feed an army.
Dad suffered from pleurisy often as he was a smoker and I remember
the mustard plasters mom fixed for him. They really seemed to help.
Dad loved mom’s cooking and for such a small man he could really
put it away. Every Christmas mom baked many of his favourite things
one of which was her cake donuts. She filled an old churn with
dozens of them and dad would always have a snack of two donuts and
a cup of coffee before bed and he ate every last crumb.
Dad could cook too as he was once a cook on the railroad, and I remember
how he’d stew up some chicken wings and use the broth for some
macaroni and rice soup; it was delicious as were the wings.
He knew a lot about the different trees because of his job,
and I recall one day as a little girl making mud pies out on the
back step and dad came by and took me by the hand and we toured
around the property as he named all the different trees for me. It was
a special moment and I’ve never forgotten it.
The neighbours would drop in some evenings and they’d play
Euchre and some got a little out of sorts as they took it all too seriously,
and their knuckles would bang on the table when they played.












Oh the tales that were told around that table, a merrier bunch you’d
never find. We kids took part in the lunch as it seemed we were
never filled. These simple things were happiness personified for us
and we knew God had blessed us with riches beyond compare and
we went to bed at night peaceful in the knowledge that our mom and dad
would always be there and we were secure in their love.
The years passed, we grew up and left home and dad
retired only to find out he had lung cancer, so he didn’t get
to enjoy any time just for he and mom.
You were small in stature dad, but mighty
in your duty as our father.
Thanks dad. (I hope mom’s making donuts in heaven for you).

Margaret Rose Larrivee
May 06, 2007

BERRY PICKING

When the summer’s heat was scorching and the
cicadas were attacking our eardrums their fever pitched
buzzing, and the day was all hot and sticky and you sweat even though
you didn’t do anything, mom would decide to go
berry picking. How she loved this task and did right up
to when her body said ‘no more’. She was the cleanest
picker and had no leaves or stems in her pail. We however,
her little brood, didn’t fare so well.
What we’d do first is hunt up old shirts and old neckties,
the shirts to keep us from being all scratched and bitten
by black flies and mosquitoes and the neckties to tie the
pails around our waists so we’d have both hands free for picking.
We also wore floppy-brimmed straw hats to keep us from sunstroke
and we must have looked a right picture of how not to dress.
We didn’t complain much because we loved what mom did
with the berries when we got home.
It was something comical to watch our parade
in clown-like regalia clinking and clanking up the highway to the
spot where mom knew of this bountiful patch of raspberries.
Their long prickly canes were densely growing and hard to
get the berries without getting all scratched, but that didn’t
deter us. One of us would always get a story going round
about bears and the smaller ones would get a little scared so
we’d tell them to make lots of noise to make them go away.
It was hot and thirsty work and we ate as many as we picked,
with the odd warning from mom. Sometimes we’d come
across a wild apple tree and we’d have a few and they
were surprisingly good, also we found some bushes of
long black berries and they were a real treat. Some were
so big they’d fit on the ends of our fingers. After what seemed
like a long time, mom would call a halt to the picking and we’d
start out for home, but not before going to the farm house of
someone she knew and we all got a long cool drink of
spring water. All in all it was a wonderful outing and we
enjoyed the pies and preserves that resulted from our efforts.
It’s a fond and happy memory for us all,
thanks mom.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
May 06, 2007

CRIES FROM THE WILDERNESS

A melting pot of evil boiling
our planet in disgrace,
Your gift of life now torn asunder
as all Your laws we have replaced.

Satan has us in a kettle
the water’s temperature just right,
he slowly feeds the fire
so that we don’t recognize our plight.

We’ve been duped by his trickery
ah but now the time is late,
if we don’t take the leap real soon
we’ll have to accept our fate.

Jesus’ hand of mercy reaches out
to all His love He gives full measure,
Satan’s gifts the opposite
only lies and filth no treasure.

Now is the time to make your choice
of who’s words will you take heed
for eternity is fast approaching
only God has all you need.

From out the depths of sin and darkness
cry out oh children to the Son,
who’ll forgive your every evil deed
and then forget them every one.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
May 05, 2007

REASONS FROM THE PAST

Our lives at times seem perfect
no snags have come our way,
then slowly all this changes
hurts from the past boil up to stay.

These happenings not dealt with
so many years ago,
sneak back to jeer and taunt us
our weaknesses they show.

The past cannot be buried
unless forgiveness is the lid,
of the coffins filled with brokenness
wrongs done to us or ones we did.

They’ll fester and they’ll nag us
and fill us full of dread,
we have to face them head on
when all else has been said.

Once out in the open
as you right each painful deed,
the future will look brighter
from the past you will be freed.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
May 04, 2007