Poetizing Life: Who am I Now?

By: Heather Farrar

The other day some ladies came into the shop and right in front of me made a comment on one of the articles I wrote to another person next to them. It was complimentary so I said, “Thank you” they both looked at me behind the counter then at the paper, then back at me. I waited to respond to their puzzled inquisitive looks, and then said, “I write this column each week.” Like sheepish children they smiled and one said, “That’s you? That doesn’t look like you! Why, I read you each week I didn’t know…”

The year has been long. I did my avatar or portrait in December of 2010. One of my voice mentors, Pat Fraley (www.patfraley.com) had suggested I take and unify one picture that depicts me throughout my social and professional presence, so I did. I could not find that perfect picture to represent the multi-facetted or rather diverse aspects of me, so, I just did my own portrait, at home in my sound studio. Now, one year and a few weeks later, it seems I no longer represent my avatar or portrait; I am unrecognizable.

Being a word geek, I got to thinking about the origins or etymology and meaning of the words “portrait” and, “avatar.” We hear “avatar” so much within the gaming and computer world that it has evolved into everyday verbiage. It even became an exhaustive movie by James Cameron, though, somewhat off subject here but in the same sense somewhat relevant once the word is understood. The word has its base origins in Sanskrit in the word avatarana meaning 1) the incarnation of a Hindu deity, especially Vishnu, in human or animal form. 2) An embodiment, as of a quality or concept; an archetype.. 3) A temporary manifestation or aspect of a continuing entity. . Then there is the word, portrait: 1. a likeness of a person, especially of the face, as a painting, drawing, or photograph. 2. verbal picture or description, usually of a person.

Admittedly, the year has been one of change both physically and mentally. The past year proved that within us all are the resources to make positive changes in our lives-despite our circumstances surrounding us, both personally and in watching the growth of others. I grew older this past year, not just physically but spiritually and mentally. And yes, I have put on weight. Except, I am not so worried about that, as I am striving to be healthy in feeding my soul, form and mind with good stuff from now on; positive changes. The world has made us all aware too, this past year, of what we have to accept, face, and be challenged with and to be thankful for own lives, no matter what. Change is inevitable. Yet, like Mr. Cameron’s Avatar world, the real world around us evolves bringing on changes. One wonders if these changes could have been so strong an effect as to create a physical change to transform. Had this year transformed me so dramatically?

In this realization, that if one picture is a thousand words, then my current avatar I took last year has now become a thing prior to me now, someone in the past. The year before has taken me from that point of identity then, to now defying my current nature of identity.

For right now my “avatar” or “portrait” here will be as it was, but in the coming weeks it will change. My only hope is that whatever image I create, I can live up to the etymological origin and definition of what I want said to the world as “me” and that others will know it really is me who writes this each week when they see me. Always I have said, “I am a vain writer, who writes in vain!” ...Sometimes.

heather@quillsongs.com www.quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: Upward Mobility

By: Heather Farrar

In my arms is my 5 month old grandbaby. It seems motherhood wears down on his young Momma about mid-week just in time for me to attack my article deadline. He is currently playing with his toes and trying to wriggle out of my hold changing his position often while I type with my right hand; a talent I learned when my own five were young. He is exercising his legs, and seeking hold on anything he can while we sit-including my hair, the computer keyboard-attempting to taste it too! Slap, slapping all, he tests the feel and composition of everything.   As I sat him down on a nice soft, thick blanket to play he extends onto all fours and begins rocking back and forth, then starts crying frustrated knowing these limbs can make him mobile if he could just figure out how. It won’t be long. The world of discovery will then take him from his protected world of arms holding him to make him mobile to eventually his own two legs carrying him where he wants to go. His protected world will never be the same. He will fall. He will bruise. He will cry at the injustice of the pain, not understanding how or why this is.

I think of how my Father God feels when I take off on my own watching me fall, bruise and cry. How He must feel when I remove Him from my protected world in His arms to venture out and seek the world on my own. Oh, I have done it too. I have turned my back on God because I wanted to go it alone; not that I didn’t want Him in my life; I just didn’t think he was there anymore. Besides, I was angry, hurt, and feeling betrayed by all the things that had happened to me on this unprotected plane called earth. How could I trust a God that would let bad things happen, hurtful things, terrible things that are so unfair? I am a good person. I followed His Word. I have sinned not willfully, and then instances very willfully. I sought His forgiveness eventually knowing He was not punishing me or letting these things happen. God does not punish us while we are here on earth, so what happens here is a part of a greater plan, as unfair as it seems. I knew that and didn’t like it.

A baby knows no sin experiencing the world brand new. I think that is why Jesus said, "Let the children come to me. Don't stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children." (NLT) It is hard work for children in this new world, yet they embrace to accept their trust in exploration and to grow from whatever happens even if they fall. They grow from their bumps and bruises AND STILL HOLD FAITHFUL TO TRUSTING THERE IS MORE TO LEARN! When we get older we tend to become calloused and lose our vision because of it. We tend to want to give up on faith, life, love, and hope, and lose interest in its discovery. Or we hold grudges against God, or even question His existence. We see a small God, not a big God.

We are just minute atomic strands to the entire scheme of things within this infinite universe. Yet it is each and every one of us He cares so deeply about- just as a mother (or grandmother) nurtures her offspring, hovering protectively over them while young giving them just enough space to keep them safe, yet in the same breath allowing them the freedom to discover and grow and fall. God is the same with His children. We fall, we get hurt, and He hurts. He is longsuffering, yet knows the entire story of this universe. His ways are not our ways. His time is not our time; be it emphatically moment by moment or with time being the entire scope of this whole view.

Today, open your eyes new again and see as child. Begin to trust in all things new again and ask for eyes that see as a child once more. Understand the bad things that happen to us are REAL, but not so real they are bigger than what an Infinite Omnipresent God can do to change your heart, your circumstances, and your life. As a child discovering what to do with those limbs in order to get him where he wants to go, begin discovering your own strength by leaning on a Father in trust to get you where you need to go. Small beginnings of a positive spirit will reap a bounty of good!

Heather@quillsongs.com www.quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: Autumns Here!

By: Heather Farrar

Have you been outside lately? I mean, it is as if the senses could not be more tantalized by the aroma of sweet, fresh, autumn air. It is, as if, the ground is offering up her musky, earthy, musing perfumes to lull us into the mood of fall. Our eyes are now sensitive to the abundance of warm colors embellishing our landscape, and the day’s tickle our skin cool and comfortable.
Expansive Azure Blue water colored skies dress in cottony puffed clouds looking down on us. Trees majestically display their yellow amber gold and crimson mahogany wine colored leaves- radiating; soon to give up their summer branch as they drip to the ground in whispers. We have come alive to our being made new again against this mesmerizing picture.

In the heart of rural Missouri, sounds capture our imagination as their rustling lures the mind to escape into breezes of homemade apple cider drinks, sitting on straw bales and dreaming of tomorrow being better. It is a time of hay rides on horse drawn buggies, bon-fires with hot dogs roasting on a long slender hickory stick, and s’more making treats. It is a time when thoughts of spooky things begin to rise up from the fields of corn waiting to be harvested and scarecrows emerge larger than life. Bright orange pumpkins are ripe for the picking, knowing they carve the way for a night of All Hollows Eve; later to pie up to their cause in sweet true just desserts. Gardens are ready for turning over, overachieving with those few remaining plants bearing their last; their sisters and brothers canned goods made ready for winter indulgence.

No more watermelon summer daze thinking of strawberry shortcake nights. Now is the time for making the earth ready for her sleep and ground her prepared for springing forward, in time, with new abundance.

This time of year is like a comma in the sentence of life- we pause, reflect, and take a breath. We look to the needs of what needs done for the land, ourselves, and the gathering up for the giving season next. It is the time of year on remembering all year long what we have accomplished up to this point. It is a time for quiet contemplation and thankfulness. It is a time for a renewal of the soul, knowing we too, are a part of earths autumn. With each season we too need meditate on positive renewal. heather@quillsongs.com the audio of this is at www.quillsongs.com under PoetizingLife:Article&MP3

Poetizing Life: Getting in the Game

By: Heather Farrar

Living here in the St. Louis area, one cannot help but know the barometer of people’s feelings about our local teams. I mean they know the scores, team players, who did what when, and how. They look at teams rankings. Then on top of that, they know nationwide scores, players, and statistics for those teams. Fantasy Football is huge! The money poured into these franchises is overwhelming. People chose to lose their voices, rant and rave - raising their blood pressure - to root for a team. There are those who have rituals they go through, swearing if not done, their team will lose. Die hard they are to support and stand behind them. Dedicated to them when the team is winning and fickle when they aren’t. It is almost religious. In fact many are more dedicated to their teams than to their spiritual life. Which got me to thinking- how many people are actually dedicated to their personal game? On a side note here, I love to watch a good game, but, what I am referring to is the game of life. I am not knocking the act of sports. These teams put bread on tables and support the community in so many ways. But, apathetically one can get into a rut in their personal game of life. The idea is to live a life which accommodates living. Are you really living though? It is easy to leave your own game to support the cause of another. There in may be the beauty and cause for this attraction to sports, forgetting you actually have to be a participant in your own life. If one just escapes into something else, then that means they can relieve themselves of the responsibility of actually participating in their own living-hypothetically.

In that same spirit let’s look at a team member, lets observe what these giants of the grid iron and warriors of the ball field do to be the star’s they are. They have to maintain their body. They are regimented. They exercise. They give. They sacrifice possible physical injury for the sake of playing their best game. They believe in winning game. They invest in themselves mentally and physically. They work at their own personal best, and they work for the betterment of the team as a whole. They have to, yes, because they do get paid well, but, they do it for the honor too.

So correlating this to our lives, what would you have to do to measure up as active participant in your own game of life? Live honestly for one. Even though you may not be financially where you want, or even at the job you want, opportunity remains to live honestly. Living honestly means being honest with yourself in who you are as a player and what you want out of life. Getting into the game means actually thinking about what comes next with a game-plan. Then once you have a game-plan, prepare with strategy and like these wonderful players, do as they do.

Time and effort spent in other things can be time spent in opening new doors, and creating a new game for you. Live life with conscious effort in honesty to the gifts you have, and you will have the opportunity to be the star of your own game!

Go Cards! Go Rams! Go …[insert your name here]

www.quillsongs.com heather@quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: Words

By: Heather Farrar

Words make up language. Language creates communication. As humans of created language, we communicate every day using these learned words. These words create more than understanding- they affect our senses, psychological well being, increase or decrease the “self-ego,” form ideas, and much more. They create the story within the story of our lives. Words build the world. They also tear it down. Think back to when you were young, innocent and impressionable, was there ever a time when words made an impact on you? To this day, most likely, those words can still be recalled verbatim, or, at the very least… their lasting impression remembered. The old saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”…is a lie. How we express ourselves is important! “The tongue that brings healing is a tree of life, but a deceitful tongue crushes the spirit.” Proverbs 15:4 NIV

The responsibility of how words are expressed belongs to everyone, yet it is the least regarded. As we move about in our daily lives, we have the opportunity to use words wisely in: direction, teaching, and in difficult situations. But, do we take them? Do we edify, or massage our message in how we use words before we say them; being careful, thoughtful, and purposeful in their use? Do we weigh their worth? How about when dealing with a situation that becomes more than what we want to deal with? It is so easy to tear down with words, bringing a certain self-lifting, self-gratifying pleasure, being empowered by expressing words bluntly- at whose expense? A word said, can NEVER be unsaid. “The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of his life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.” James 3:6 NIV

Then there is the almighty advice and constructive criticism that is easily and freely given. Yet, within these words offered, is there purposeful wisdom of positive direction also offered to affirm their worth; are you offering constructive solutions to balance those words of advice or criticism? “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.” Proverbs 25:11KJV

Powerful are these words, powerful are their lasting effects. Children are the most vulnerable. They do not know what we know. They look to those in their charge to be their guides for their direction and learning. They are new to this life, everything is new. They don’t yet know all the rules; they don’t know the “yes” or “no” or even the “why” of things. They are awkwardly maneuvering their new body. They are learning textures, tastes, experiencing different things through their senses by exploring. They are growing their imagination. We adults are old hat to life’s ways. Those who are guiding these little lights need to remain cautious in your words. They are clear slates waiting, observant, for what is to be. Children become what they know. This includes the words they hear. If they hear impatience, they too will learn this trait. If they hear painful words that attack their self worth, they believe it. “Death and life are in the power of the tongue; and those to whom it is dear will have its fruit for their food.”Proverbs 18:21 BET   All bear the responsibility to guide them in love.

The words we choose; what we say to one another are freely delivered as language freely expressed, but it is the content, the intent, the message we speak that edifies or breaks those who hear them. What we say also reflects the good name we bear-that good name of many generations of ancestor’s lives who have died before us. Do we do our lineage proud with the verbiage we expel? Do we honor ourselves with these words we speak? "People who want to live a full life and enjoy good days must keep their tongues from saying evil things, and their lips from speaking deceitful things.” 1 Peter 3:10 GWT

www.quillsongs.com heather@quillsongs.com

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Poetizing Life: September 11^th Remembered

By: Heather Farrar

Most likely, vivid in your mind’s eye, there remains the exact place where you stood; the pungent taste in your mouth; the strong the smell of the air; the sick emotional feeling wafting through your body as that very moment you realized America would never be the same; choking on the bitterness of what seemed to be the impossible happening you remember ten years ago September 11, 2001. There, in that moment, when chaos took over a nation and the media, in a frenzy, announced what devastation was taking place here in American- that terrorist attacked the United States of America! The day when America the Beautiful was raped innocently of her freedom as she knew it. Where so many stood with a sense of absolute helplessness as they took in what was trying to break our nation’s soul as we bitterly watched 2,977 victims die horrifically in cold blood. Not just die but burned, crushed, maimed, and asphyxiated beyond our comprehension, of torture inflicted. Not to mention all the other countless lives that became irreversibly changed forever! Just what agenda would grant this abuse? What people of insanity would think of such a thing! Everything this great nation stands for, every soldier that died in its fields, every soldier that died in the name of freedom and every soul who made this country “One Nation under God” was given the attempt of being spit on by cowards who took under their skin the act of breaking America for their futile means. How dare they challenge to take its pride, honor and dignity! How dare they bitter her land! America’s spirit would NOT be broken! Ten years later she stands erect with all her glory. Those who died innocently are honored, missed and remembered reverently! And, just as scar tissue heals stronger than the original skin, we have healed united, stronger and wiser than before!   Just like scar tissue we mended our wounds and came back with eyes wide open. No, this nation will never be as it was, but, as a phoenix ascending out of the ashes -she has risen! Forgiveness seems hard to grasp, where does one begin? This place is personal, very personal. These statements are true: We will never forget! Forgiveness is Divine. AND- There is no room in heaven for demons from pit of hell!

9-11 We Remember!

9-11

Emergency.

Red lights and sirens.

Flight-

Crash-

Smoke-

Fire-

The day where this Nations

lights went out

-and on.

Where time stood still

Here-on American soil.

And

the ordinary,

and mundane,

was changed by planes…

and cowards.

Everyday moments made memories:

She stood playing ball in the nursery

where her mother worked,

Earlier that morning

her bubby teasingly gave her a noogie

before

he went into school.

Bubby, never saw his sister

or mother again.

“Daddy said good-bye to me,

I hugged his neck

And kissed his cheek

Before, he flew away.”

Daddy’s gone.

“Let’s roll” were heroic words for history,

The last call to his wife his legacy.

Like two funeral pyres

This nation’s soul burned,

Her jowls gnashing painfully,

Eyes blinded in viral reality.

As terrorist came to kill,

… futile their cause still!

Time may heal wounds to some

Yet

In honor WE

The United States of American-

To all that was done-

This Nation…

Will remember as ONE!

 heather@quillsongs.com or www.quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: “Tales from the Mid-Life Wife- The Ruse”

By: Heather Farrar

Janice awoke that morning to the shower running and her not in it. One of her children migrated into her bedroom, stealing her shower. “Darn it all!” she mumbled from beneath the covers, turning over abruptly defeated. There would be no hot shower this morning. The hot water heater was about to die being stingy in producing hot water. Sleepily, she thought about this day’s agenda. “ARG! I host Bunco this afternoon for the Neighborhood Women’s Association!” also realizing she had a meeting with several clients; needed to get the car’s tires rotated; take her husband’s suits to the cleaners; pick up the cat from being neutered at the vet; put dinner in the crock pot; take Lea to ballet practice and call her mother to wish her a “Happy Birthday!”. “Did I call the florist to send flowers” Janice thought. Rolling herself out of bed abruptly to check her phone, she stubbed her foot on the laundry basket that didn’t get put away from the day before. “YOUCH!” she cut her toe. Looking down grimacing at sight of the oozing red liquid now expelling from it (this caused by those innocent little slots in the laundry basket) she screamed, “I need a wife! I can’t keep up with everything!” The house was mess. So was her life. Every minute of every day seemed so full. Her day’s were never ending with ball practice’s, ballet classes, school meetings, home meetings, and business meetings; this- that, and the other. She felt insane! Not to mention the fact that her personal summers had become worse. Her clothes were rebelling to not fit anymore- despite the trips to the gym! Her body was finding new ways to convince her that pain with age was a real fact of life- defying everything she ever knew before as normal. Another day- another ache, pain, or age spot showed up on yet another place of her sagging body, enhancing her suspicions there is truth to those silly TV commercials. Having kids late in life was fine, but when reading them “The Little Engine That Could” that engine had to have been very young when it went over the mountain, because if it were an old engine, it would have given that trip- a second thought! Just getting out of bed some days became the only mountain she felt she could get over! Thinking back to the PTA meeting the night before, of those in the room, she was the only one pushing forty- something; all the other parents were young. Somehow, knew she would always be the oldest mom there. Today, though, brought its own treadmill of issues. Zombily walking into the bathroom she asked Lea, who was basking in the hot shower she wouldn’t have that morning, “Where is the band-aids that were here yesterday?” fishing through the closet “How should I know?” Lea retorted in defiance. At 13 Lea knew everything and nothing. Defeated again, Janice went into the bathroom stall closed the door, unrolled a piece of toilet paper and wrapped up her toe. Her big toe, now wore a toilet paper turban. Rather fitting she thought. Somehow, this day was going to just have to be a “make due day” thinking to herself.

The afternoon came around all too fast. Running home from a meeting with a client she realized the Neighborhood Women’s Association would be over in less than an hour. Looking around the house she realized there would NOT be time to do this properly. Making her way to the basement she brought up several storage tubs with lids. From room to room she began filling them. First to Lea’s room. “One tub will be pushing it here” thinking, she managing to fill two easily with dirty clothes AND miscellaneous teenage gear lying about. Filled, to closet the went. Next, the bath room. Here dirty towels meant a now full hamper, lay about in the corner. “Yuck” picking up a stinking pair of soccer socks her son abandoned “these will need incinerated, shew!” throwing them a Walmart bag first then in the bin. With the bathroom done she covered the bin with a towel and set a scented candle on it. Passing through the living room was easy “No living going on in here” lamenting the lack of family time. Finally, her kitchen “I need a miracle in here!” The dishwasher had been broken for over 5 years! Since everyone in the house was an amateur chef, every pot, pan, dish, spoon knife and fork were dirty. Swiftly working as a woman with means, she rinsed off what she could and stuffed every dirty piece of kitchen usage in bins stacking them finished neatly in the corner; put a table cloth over them and added a vase and flowers.

After wiping down the counters, she put on a pot of coffee, set out cookies (store bought) and proceeded to set the table with her best china- just as the doorbell rang…

“Why Janice, I just don’t know how you do it!”

“You are the busiest woman I know! Look how put together you are”

“Why, look she even uses her fine china!”

“The place looks great, do tell us your secret!”

Poetizing Life: Summer 2011-Climate Control?

By: Heather Farrar

This week I will leave you with a quick poem-somewhat tongue and cheek…well, definitely cheeky, and punned well!

We are all enduring the summer’s heat and the heat of a political standoff on what our nation’s debt ceiling will or will not look like through politically heated debate. It seems the climate of both increases tensions. Never has this nation faced the things we are facing now. Not since the wars or the Great Depression. This recession hits home to so many personally. We are most definitely making history right now; may God bless this nation in wisdom and courage as we all try and survive through this new historically unprecedented maze.

Summer 2011: Climate Control

Today,

the sun beat down like Satan’s spatula

on the frying pan of earth,

Its rays scooped up the sidewalk in

dizzying scrambled curds.

Summer swelters on,

as a humid aura around

everyday swimmers,

swimming through tide pools

of sweat,

drenching new records for weathermen to brag.

Heated we are all-

in type and calamity,

as Congress debates

what tomorrow’s credit rating will be

while Worldly eyes look on,

…And the entire nation’s dirty laundry

is being hung out to dry

on the lines of bipartisanship,

dueling in the wind of talking

Heads.

Heated in the blaze of summer’s raze-

fanned to action,

conditioning ourselves for

what will be raking us over

the coals next- we hear

Voices speak to

those with Rising Stalks in the Field

But, whether or not

That political Maize is

Blocked due to ears

Popped by all this heat,

Still remains Micro-

Waved!

                                -Heather Farrar

quillsongs@yahoo.com www.quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: Mourning Sugar & Spice

By: Heather Farrar

What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice,
And everything nice,
That's what little girls are made of.

So goes the nursery rhyme of years ago. As a nation our hearts mourn for the injustice of this little girl’s life ending so tragically; wondering if there is accountability somewhere for it.

I was shocked …no mortified when the judgment came in on the case of Casey Anthony. A child is dead. Clearly there were discrepancies, and lies, and a mess to prove “without a doubt” to convict Casey Anthony and it was the hands of the defense to make sure reasonable doubt was there. It was up to the prosecution to lay credible groundwork for a conviction. The defense lawyers won their case. Yet, SOMEONE left Caylee Anthony brutally treated like some object for disposal. No sanctity of life for her! No accountability.

What makes this vital to the media? To us? Is it the visceral reminder of cases like JonBenét Patricia Ramsey, as we relive all over again the horrific outcome of a children killed, and no one to hold accountable for the tragedy for so long? These cases are by no means isolated, as the heartache of child abuse is present in society, and are sickening to those with a pulse who revere children, family, values. The media whirl in its buzz makes a statement. Though that statement cannot force justice by reporting these stories, it can create the heartfelt pain of injustices OF them, and we are all somehow are left to piece all this together in its perspective unfairness.

The Bible states: “See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven." Matthew 18:10 ESV

There is justice though. We here on earth may not see it within our own justice system, but there is a greater system of justice: Gods justice. We don’t have eternal eyes, but the Divine does. We may only see certain evidences, yet, Jehovah Ganan – The Lord Our Defense (Psalm 89:18) is at knowing. He is a just God. For those who carry within themselves, their secrets of private sin, those who do not seek, truly, forgiveness and the safe arms of Christ through conviction and confession- if taken with them to their grave- will see these justices’s spoken by Jesus, of the eternity of God’s wrath in numerous ways.

Consider three. In Mark 9:43-48, he said,

“And if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life crippled than with two hands to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. ⁴⁵ And if your foot causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life lame than with two feet to be thrown into hell. ⁴⁷ And if your eye causes you to sin, tear it out. It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into hell, ⁴⁸ where their worm does not die and the fire is not quenched.” With this also to consider: “The wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth” (Romans 1:18).

So no lie will go unknown, ever, without being accounted for. A child is not accounted for in her death. Whether by accident or by blame, justice will serve one day to those responsible for it, God see’s

A Child Undone

You carried me nine months within,

Your voice my constant companion.

Your heart, it beat along with mine,

They,

Together beating,

Separate,

Two at a time.

Then, one day I saw a light

Your voice was now large and bright.

I trusted you,

To do what’s right.

I trusted you to hold onto me tight.

You were to guide me,

Along the way,

In my life I trusted you everyday…

But then…

It all went away.        

–Heather Farrar

www.quillsongs.com     heather@quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: July 4^th  

By: Heather E.L. Adams Farrar

Freedom, “American Freedom,” framed and established,-separated from the tentacle reaches of a tyrannical nation- was invented through those willing to risk, through sacrifice, life and limb for this solitary independent establishment willing to be governed upon by its own. There was apprehension and much trepidation leading up to the signing of the Declaration of Independence; a risk well taken; yet, today, undeniably still a struggle to meld into that once conceivable ideal. This nation, it suffers pains. Decay abounds from those conceptual ideals penned by our forefathers. Pains felt even before the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

Abigail Adams gave consideration, abet, somewhat abstractly, in a prolific letter to her husband John Adams with her doubts on independence. “… will not many men have many minds? And shall we not run into dissentions among ourselves? I am more convinced that man is a dangerous creature; and that power, whether vested in many or a few is ever grasping, and, like the grave, cries, ‘Give, give.’ The great fish swallow the small and he who is most strenuous for the rights of the people when vested with power, is as eager after the prerogative of government.” She then succumbs within and resolutely states, “I feel anxious for the fate of our monarchy, or democracy, or whatever is to take place…whatever occurs, may justice and righteousness be the stability of our times, and order rise out of confusion. Great difficulties may be surmounted by patience and perseverance.”

On July 1, 1776 John Dickinson, of Pennsylvania, during the Second Continental Congress gave his last protest against the declaration, at some length ending with this: “…when the counterpoise of monarchy shall no longer exist, the democratic power may carry all before it and involve the whole state in confusion and ruin. Then an ambitious citizen may arise, seize the reins of power, and annihilate liberty forever; for such is the ordinary career of ill-balanced democracies, they fall into anarchy, and thence under despotism.”

In the “Debate on Independence” July 1^st 1776 a resolve by John Dickinson was referenced to and penned by Thomas Jefferson “…members of a different sentiment attending that morning from Pennsylvania also, her voice was changed, so that the whole twelve colonies who were authorized to vote at all gave their voices for it [Declaration of Independence]”

On July 2^nd 1776, a resolution was passed which said, “that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States, that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the state of Great Britain is and ought to be totally dissolved.”

On July 4^th the Declaration of Independence was read aloud in the city of Philadelphia, at a place later named Independence Square. Legislatures of each colony received a copy, and it was published countrywide. It was not until August 2^nd of 1776 a copy engrossed on parchment bared all names witnessed.

I refer back once more to the wise words of Abigail Adams in that same letter to John, “I soon get lost in the labyrinth of complexities…”

We have gotten lost in the labyrinth of complexities in this nation. Those statements given here assume a prophetic witness over our history.  

I celebrate this nation’s independence; I celebrate the parchment signed by those men who took risk to divide this soil from a tyrannical nation, gripping over them. But, I also heed the concerns stated before its signing and to the future of where we go from here. There remains no new frontier to inhabit, we are the frontier. I mourn the dumbing down of our nation. I mourn the moral decay in government and of people. We have become a nation of debt. It seems we have become so big internally we cannot control the beast of own creation. We have lost control of what is important.

But we still own this sacrificially bought freedom! Celebrate it fully. Realize what risk and vision it took.

There are many fine lines in this labyrinth, this complex One Nation under God.

heather@quillsongs.com or www.quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: Daddy’s Shoes

By: Heather Farrar

This time of year we celebrate the Father’s of our lives on Father’s Day: men who give of themselves selflessly day in and day out bettering a life for their family. Dads are such an important part in the rearing up of children. They are the compass which guides a young heart directing it. Sometimes they guide in words, sometimes in deed and actions. Even in those circumstances when they don’t know what to do, just being there made all the difference in the world!

Celebrate the Father’s in your life by letting them know what makes them special in your life.

Daddies Shoes

As a child I stood in your shoes,

amazed at how big they were,

someday wanting

to fill them like you- ever sure!

When you tinkered

working on this or that,

by your side I was watching

soul to soul, hat to hat.

On winter days,

walking through the snow-

you ahead and I behind...

Your footprints became mine.

Everyday those shoes became smaller,

as I became taller,

yet, I could never really fill

those shoes you wore so well!

Happy Father’s Day Daddy! –Heatherlynn

www.quillsongs.com heather@quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: Courage

By: Heather Farrar

Courage, a word thought of in the line of fire for soldiers at war; a word given in a time when the strength of one has to be greater than his own measure, yet to remain steady in it forward. By definition, it means mental or moral strength, to venture or persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty. In inquiring of others definitions I gained these replies:

“Courage? Seeking peace in the midst of chaos. Doing what's right even when everyone disagrees. Finding hope where there is none. Choosing faith in the face of destruction.”-Angie

“Doing what is right no matter what the consequences or what others may think, even if it could cost you everything.”-Mary

“Courage: to love again; to stand for your beliefs even if you stand alone; to forgive those who seem undeserving; to admit your own faults, to put yourself at risk for the benefit of saving another, and to continue to live though death calls your name."-Connie.

Courage is deeply personal.

There is a story told of a dying Union Civil War soldier after the battle of Gettysburg. He secluded himself a spot on the field, where wounded, he laid himself down. In his hands he tightly held an ambrotype- a portrait of his three small children-bearing his eyes fixed upon this very image till his soul passed away. Oh, the feelings he may have had, this patriot father whose children were soon to be orphaned by his own sacrifice, laying there wounded and alone; laying there with the sounds of battle still ringing in his ears, with what must have been his final thoughts and prayers given for his family. His work now finished, his last battle fought, he freely gave his life to the cause-he steadied in courage-his accomplishment. Commending those loved ones to the care of the Eternal Goodness, he crossed over. In courage he fixed upon himself the images most important to him as he departed. In courage he offered his life for a greater cause.

Courage has two parts. The first is the stand in will for what you believe in with will and power to perform an action. The second is to stand in will leaning on something far greater. If we remain within our own will, we begin to weaken. In steadying the spirit in something greater we are revived. By doing so we are then able to progress, remaining steady in what we have to face. Rights given by the sacrifice of blood need remembered… honored highly among those who partake in their freedom forsaken through that blood spilled.   It may seem late to write of this post Memorial Day, but its purpose was just for that reason. There are among us this day those who face their own battles in courage, be it from natural causes, or man’s own, the will to stand and remain in courage becomes a force greater. If done by shear will, eventually, the soul becomes weakened or may become callused. Let us give honor, glory, strength, hope, prayers, help, favor and remembrance to those who bear in courage these causes, and calamities. “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.—Gandhi

And that their soul remains encouraged ever Divinely, “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

Be of good courage as you go about your life, and honor the courage of others as they go about theirs!

heather@quillsongs.com         www.quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: Two Woman at Cross-Roads

By: Heather Farrar

Once upon a time there were two women who met at Cross-roads one rainy day heavily burdened.

The Old Woman, who had many years behind her, and many children to show for her life’s work, now attended her work beyond the children she raised. She was different than those years ago, before her children were; different beyond raising them. She knew this road by her steps taken along it, year by year.

There was a Young Woman in a hurry, her focus was only on her own, with much to do and little time to do it in, with no patience for the roads bumps and rocks; kicking them here and there, not paying attention to where they land by her actions. She stopped at the Cross-road seeing the Old Woman. Each woman knew of the other.

Now these women here at the Cross-road, had not seen one another in many years. Upon seeing the Young Woman, the old woman stopped-quick, in her journey to take in her unbelief. The Young Woman was still very beautiful-outside.

Each woman was going their own opposite direction on the same path.

The Young Woman was the mother to a grandchild of the Old Woman. The Old Woman’s heart clenched inside her chest upon this meeting, remembering her personal pain having her beloved grandchild whisked away quite unannounced, in secret, by this very same Young Woman. Agony, pain, and bewilderment engulfed their family in a state of unbelief many years ago. Before her, that day, as they both stood at the Cross -road looking upon one another, they each saw the other as they once were. The Young Woman in agitation said, “I knew I would find you here one day, Old Woman. You are unchanged” yet she did not notice the cane the woman carried, or the scares within. “Old Woman I want to know the family secrets, so I may hold this knowledge for MY child. Or- Old Woman- are you so selfish, you do not care for the well being of your grandchild? You an unworthy old woman you are! Give to me what I need!” she condescendingly stated in agitation to the Old Woman.

Wise to her years, the Old Woman smiled. The Young Woman still had not learned the art of patience, she was full of herself. Like the quick judge she was of her youthful flight she was haughty and quick to react. She had not yet learned that which gives honor to the art living righteously.

There between the women appeared a cloud in the shape of a figure. This figure held in its hand a scale and a beating human heart. It spoke to the women equally, “Where upon this road is the right direction?

The Old Woman who felt she was wiser in years stated, “The road that leads home.”

The Young Woman, also felt that youth gave her the insight beyond the Old Woman’s archaic ways, said, “The road which takes you where you want to go, of course!”

“Only one of you is correct!” This odd apparition answered.

The Young Woman charged, “I am correct! The road that leads to where I want go has to be correct, after all, it is my intent to get to where I am going and that is my choice to get there!

“Ah, but how do you know where you seek to is the right direction? Is it because it is what YOU want, or, because it is the right direction FOR you?” the figure stated.

The Old Woman smiled, knowing a road traveled well, will always lead to Home.

The Young Woman, wanted to know what gave the apparition the right to ask such questions!

“In my left hand I hold a beating human heart, the muscle that delivers blood necessary to circulate throughout the body, without it, a body does not live. It is also the emblem of what is the essence of True Life-Pure Love. This is a Sacred Heart named, “Pure Love” known to all, but rejected by many.

In my right hand is a scale. This scale is named “Justice” it is Pure Righteousness, Balanced to all Life. Together Pure Love and Justice lead only down one road. Pure Love gives Grace and Forgiveness freely; Justice is Divine Balanced Judgment given swiftly and correctly. Each of you walked a path to this point leading to these Cross-roads. Where you go from, here will determine which hand you hold onto. Who will forgive, and who can let go of pride and will. Who can see the way to peace and who can take the path that leads to HOME.”

Then the apparition was disappeared.

Each woman stared at one another at the crossroads knowing whatever action they took next will determined whether it leads to where they wanted to go, or HOME.

heather@quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: The Sweetest Rose

By: Heather Farrar

This week we celebrate our Mothers. There are many of you who are extremely close to your Mother. There are those of you who are distant-both in proximity and in relationship. There are many who never knew their Mothers, and there are those who know too much about them! The fact is the woman who carried and bore you went through a great sacrifice physically and mentally in doing so; it was a commitment to give you life. For those Mothers who did the raising, they did so, again, with sacrifice; her movements were no longer her own, but also took into consideration your own needs. Then there are those mothers who have differing situations. Mothers who did not take on lightly their decisions; for them there is much given grace and honor and delicate dedication for their choices. No matter where you stand, the word “Mother” holds a place of honor; if not everyday at least on Mother’s Day. I pray you honor her well!

This poem, “The Sweetest Rose” was first written in 1996. It was inspired by my 32 rose bushes which took much time and care in cultivating their amazing blooms they produced. For anyone who has tended rose bushes, you know the care it takes to keep them free from pests, diseases, and attacks from Mother Nature to keep them growing, healthy and happy. Children take on much of the same similarities in caring for to bring to maturity. Mothers Day is a day to give back to them!

“The Sweetest Rose” is dedicated to Sallie: My Closest Friend, My Confidant, My Teacher, My Mentor, My Guide, My Spiritual Advisor, and best of all My Mother-the poet! I Love You- HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!

The Sweetest Rose

The Sweetest Rose

Which one can remember,

is that of a tender breast-

yet a babe’s slumber did render.

The brow of which did toil to bring

a child into the world

through travailing.

The sweat of her back

to prepare for each day,

life’s intricate needs,

to grow up in a proper way.

The seeds of learning

and knowledge -she did plant;

even after tilling the soil

of youths rebellious vents.

I thank God each morning and night

That He did Reign and Shine…

His Sons Love down you

Making a perfect Bloom so bright.

By your side- as a bud- did I grow,

You, My Mother, are the

Sweetest Rose ever to sow!

For the Rose is the Queen of all flowers,

Isn’t it true?

Thank-you for the sacrifice

Of each moments breath it took,

To guide and strengthen my own-

As you grafted in me the blossom of

The Sweetest Rose Ever Known!

-HF

Poetizing Life: Middle Aged Dichotomy

By: Heather Farrar

Okay, so no one ever told me about the facts of middle aged life, I just grew into them. I mean how many of you born in those years making you middle aged now, would have ever figured what it would mean to be middle aged in a time period we all thought would just a little better than our parents? That idea shot out the door when the economy fell. Did you ever consider unemployment would be at 8.8 percent at this point in history? How about of that 8.8 percent, those between the ages of 34-54 hold the highest rate of unemployment? We are that sandwich generation getting used to the computer and digital age trying to hold onto what we have, learning new tricks! I am frustrated! I waited to raise my five children to go back to school. My heart was on raising my children myself, and not a daycare. I worked at home, I had my own businesses and worked part time jobs, forgoing a “career” till they were older. I volunteered and did everything I knew to instill in them a good work ethic’s, honesty, and to “follow through” in all you do by hopefully setting an example, and it worked. Seven years ago I started school; took out some college loans and I shot myself in the foot when the economy fell, now standing at 47 with a degree in Mass Communications, unable to gain the position I had so long hoped for. Yet, in that desperation it caused me to re-invent my focus. This brings me to my title of this article, “Middle-Aged Dichotomy” as many of you out there are standing my same shoes. We are standing split between what we once knew, and having to redefine ourselves to mold into this new future uncertainty-and that takes some stretching which becomes change.

Now, may be the time to look at the product, “You” in a new light. What is your heart’s desire to do? What did you want to be when you grew up? If there were no-holds-barred and you could dream big, what would that dream be? No matter how off the wall, if the desire is there, look into how that could transform into making money. What are your talents? By looking at what you are naturally good at you can further apply education to it, or enhance that ability, package it, brand it and market it to the audience it would benefit. How about working different angles? What I mean by that is this: go back to school, work where you can, and pursue setting up those steps to that big dream to attain it. In doing this you can look forward to where you want to be, pay the bills needing paid, and set your mind in the current expectations of today’s market through education with your goal in mind.

These are just a few thoughts for personal economic transformation, in a raging time where getting older in today’s job market is killer on job seekers. Straddling the economic bridge between what we once knew in making money, and where we are going in making that new kind of money remains in our hands. There is an old saying, “It’s not what you got- it’s what you do with what you got!”

On a side note: I am following this last bit of advice, and am happy to report it has taken me to places I never dreamed I would go, meeting people I never would have imagined meeting by following my heart’s desire in becoming a voice-talent/writer. In fact if you’re up for helping me with an impossibility, I have entered an audio-book competition for a speaking part in Neil Gaiman's new book, “American Gods” go to www.bookperk.com , click on the Neil Gaiman contest banner at the top of the page, put in quillsongs, have a listen to my narration and vote for me-daily till May 2nd. Yes, this is self-serving, but Think Big Because Attaining Any Less Will Still Be Far Greater Than Thinking Small and Reaching It! www.quillsongs.com or heather@quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: The Greatest Poem Ever Written

By Heather Farrar

This is the Easter week, and within the Easter week, the hope of the resurrection. In my readings I have always enjoyed THE GOSPEL OF NICODEMUS, OR ACTS OF PILATE, From "The Apocryphal New Testament" M.R. James-Translation and Notes Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1924. As you may remember in the gospel of John, Nicodemus was recorded having long conversations with Jesus. Nicodemus was the member of the Sanhedrin that became a firm believer and follower as a disciple, believing in Jesus as the King of Israel. He even protested against the Sanhedrin’s decision to label Jesus as a false Messiah. He also assisted Joseph of Arimathea in the removal of Jesus’ body from the cross to the tomb.

This portion following is a story which gives an idea or understanding to the, “What happened during the time from crucifixion to resurrection.” I encourage everyone to look up this text and read it in full, if only as reading for reflection. http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/text/gospelnicodemus.html

This starts upon Jesus Christ’s arrival in Hades:

VI (XXII)

2 Then did the King of glory in his majesty trample upon death, and laid hold on Satan the prince and delivered him unto the power of Hell, and drew Adam to him unto his own brightness.

VIII (XXIV)

1 And the Lord stretching forth his hand, said: Come unto me, all ye my saints which bear mine image and my likeness. Ye that by the tree and the devil and death were condemned, behold now the devil and death condemned by the tree. And forthwith all the saints were gathered in one under the hand of the Lord. And the Lord holding the right hand of Adam, said unto him: Peace be unto thee with all thy children that are my righteous ones. But Adam, casting himself at the knees of the Lord entreated him with tears and beseechings, and said with a loud voice: I will magnify thee, O Lord, for thou hast set me up and not made my foes to triumph over me: O Lord my God I cried unto thee and thou hast healed me; Lord, thou hast brought my soul out of hell, thou hast delivered me from them that go down to the pit. Sing praises unto the Lord all ye saints of his, and give thanks unto him for the remembrance of his holiness. For there is wrath in his indignation and life is in his good pleasure. In like manner all the saints of God kneeled and cast themselves at the feet of the Lord, saying with one accord: Thou art come, O redeemer of the world: that which thou didst foretell by the law and by thy prophets, that hast thou accomplished in deed. Thou hast redeemed the living by thy cross, and by the death of the cross thou hast come down unto us, that thou mightest save us out of hell and death through thy majesty. O Lord, like as thou hast set the name of thy glory in the heavens and set up thy cross for a token of redemption upon the earth, so, Lord, set thou up the sign of the victory of thy cross in hell, that death may have no more dominion.

2 And the Lord stretched forth his hand and made the sign of the cross over Adam and over all his saints, and he took the right hand of Adam and went up out of hell, and all the saints followed him. Then did holy David cry aloud and say: Sing unto the Lord a new song, for he hath done marvelous things. His right hand hath wrought salvation for him and his holy arm. The Lord hath made known his saving health, before the face of all nations hath he revealed his righteousness. And the whole multitude of the saints answered, saying: Such honour have all his saints. Amen, Alleluia.

heather@quilsongs.com

Poetizing Life: Holding onto Faith

By: Heather Farrar

It is easy to become cynical or lose focus in these times to that which sustains our being in the realm of faith. Look at what the world faces! The idea of holding onto faith can be washed away when facing life’s hard, cold effects in what is happening in, around, and within our lives; if not given a shot of nourishment. What that nourishment is, means different things to different people but belief is concrete to its evidence. It is easy to remain complacent and stray from faith, just as it is easy to give up on belief, but that is the enemy talking-an “Enemy” defined again by your perceptional views and esoteric understanding, yet natural if you see things as life itself-concrete and evident.

Like a pendulum in swing, or that of Newton’s laws in physics, “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” Newton’s three wise laws of motion explain fully the exact need to understand the motion in faith’s power, and how it gives each and every soul who meditates on this balance in maintaining faith in these times. Power to pass through what we see in life to the understanding that there is more going on, and a greater event created in having faith. There is good, and there is evil. Faith evokes and gives power to that Greater force!

The idea that there is something Greater than ourselves can be hard to discern or hang-onto; after all there are horrific events; world crisis; people do ugly to and by one another; poverty and sickness seem to be ever the moment at hand. But, by the very definition of faith, faith goes beyond what we see. Faith gives a place to hold onto- that Greater something- as a means to maintain belief beyond the tangible; beyond the physical; beyond the emotional; beyond events catastrophic. To choose to have faith, to choose to seek out in the holy references those places in life’s rock where a foot and hand can climb this mountain and because of being flesh…and not perfect, these scriptures create grips to maintaining faith to hold onto; because of the terrible, because of the need to believe. The following scriptures may be useful in your own understanding in holding onto faith-despite what we see now in the world, finding your stronghold to faith, despite this very rocky life we live:

2 Cor 4:8-10 (Phi) We are hard-pressed on all sides, but never in despair. We are persecuted, but are never deserted; we may be knocked down but we are never knocked out! Every day we experience something of the death of Jesus, so that we may also show the power of the life of Jesus in these bodies of ours. Yes, we who are living are always being exposed to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus may be plainly seen in our mortal lives.

2 Cor 4:16-18 (Phi) This is the reason we never lose heart. The outward man does indeed suffer wear and tear, but every day the inward man receives fresh strength. These little troubles (which are really so transitory) are winning for us a permanent, glorious and solid reward out of all proportion to our pain. For we are looking all the time not at the visible things but at the invisible. The visible things are transitory: it is the invisible things that are really permanent.

1 Pet 1:6-7 (Phi) This means tremendous joy to you, even though at present you may be temporarily harassed by all kinds of trials. This is no accident--it happens to prove your faith, which is infinitely more valuable than gold, and gold, as you know, even though it is ultimately perishable, must be purified by fire.

Eph 6:16 (Phi) Above all be sure you take faith as your shield, for it can quench every burning missile the enemy hurls at you.

Heb 11:1 (Phi) Faith means that we have full confidence in the things we hope for, it means being certain of things we cannot see.

Job 19:25 (NAS) I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes--I, and not another. How my heart yearns within me!

heather@quillsongs.com or www.quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: Stable This Horsey Situation!

By: Heather Farrar

A few generations back, they may have had it right; horses were a means of transport long before any motorized vehicle. And now it looks like we are all going to HAVE to invest in an alternative transportation too. So, I say we take on a flash mob mentality and surprise those people who give it to us in the gas! Let’s all get horses at once; convert our garages into horse stalls and make donkeys out of them! Now grant it, subdivisions may have issues with this, but at least with a horse you know it is a wise investment knowing where all that feed will end up! You become instantly environmentally conscious! In fact, I see neighbors growing gardens with all that free fertilizer, sharing amongst themselves the abundance of their spoils; making everyone healthier eating those enriched veggies and grains. So let’s go green people, literally! I mean in order to stick it to the man we have to make a stand…riding on an old idea. Nothing would state this better than to use the stuff we make riding on them instead of breathing in the stuff exhausted by what were riding now… giving us cancer, ozone problems and pollution! Last I checked horse feed runs about $8-$12 per 50 pound bag, so I think your miles per meal just might be more fuel efficient than miles per gallon- just sayin’…and I know it is defiantly better on the environment. Of course we would have to get closer to nature… and then the elements would be a concern, but that is what they made coaches for. Yes! We are an inventive society and could update those elder tools in transport gear of yester-year, retrofitted to accommodate our ultra modern society. Imagine it now, keeping up with the Jones in that uppity, new, fancy-named surrey branded and made for horse powered modern conveniences; even putting those GPS’s to use with batteries charged by horse power!

As a side saddle to this entire bit, is the interaction we all would get with taking care of a live animal. When the last time you groomed your car and in return it whinnied, or gave approval for shining it up? Yup, that’s what I thought. Depression is a huge issue with society. There is a special relationship built between horse and man, a bond and understanding. Personal growth comes from the act of taking care of something which is more than just an animal of purpose. Horses are extremely therapeutic, mentally and physically.

Here, in the United States, the words, “We the People” are starting to fade, having less meaning. I am not taking political sides here; I am making an observation of climate control-on many levels. America was founded by an eclectic bunch of men and women who came here to escape political tyranny. Well, here we are again with King Petroleum all fuelled up and over charging his charge us …and the world. We can either sit back and take it, or make a stand in the stirrups by kicking our spurs. This world has been over-explored; there is no place on earth left for us to go to escape political tyranny. The only frontier to escape to is the universes beyond. But, at almost $4.00 a gallon, that “final frontier” is far beyond what any could spare to make to take that voyage! So the alternative IS the alternative. What worked in the past may just be screaming at us to revisit. We keep looking to create alternatives, they are there. We the People need to act in unison to make the change.

Has society become so civilized that it is creating canyons too divided; forcing those who have and those who have not any means to live other than what is deemed acceptable only by have the reigns’ to control? I think not. Hope you mule all this over, and bridle the right end of this issue. After all… if we ASSUME to not act in doing something, well, you know what that makes you and me…

heather@quillsongs.com or www.quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: "I Trust You Lord"

by: Heather Farrar

There is one theme throughout my life which is recurrent in my thoughts, and that is "I trust you Lord." When there seems to be no hope and the darkness surrounds my inner soul, I still say, "I trust you Lord." When the bills pile up and it looks like things are turning to their worst case scenario I say, "I trust you Lord." When there are circumstances beyond my control and all seems to have lost any matter of sense, reality or sanity, I say "I trust you Lord." When the whole world is falling apart, I say, "I trust you Lord."  

By relinquishing my need to understand; by knowing I have no control beyond my own abilities; by letting go, I have given over the wheel of life to the One who ultimately knows the purpose of: every direction, every moment, every word, every action, every deed, every circumstance. If there is trust in knowing this, understanding starts with this action of relinquishing over to the One who does; then the act of getting on with things can be done in peace. After all, the truth of it is, if I really do believe in what I believe as truth, that the Master of this story already has a Divine understanding of each chapter I dwell in, I have to act on in faith. All I need to do is trust Him as the original author of life. If I can in every situation state "I trust you Lord" then no matter which way the wind of life turns, I am prepared to accept the outcome. That is not to say I do not throw that occasional fit of rage, or temper tantrum, or downright sobbing breakdown, because of my humanness or as a fallen creature, because it's ever so true! That's not to say I don't try to change things, or make a stand, or give my best to fix the world, because as stewards we have to try. Beyond human ability, though, I recognize it all comes down to just one thing and that it begins with, "I trust you Lord!" backed by remaining there.

Heaven Sea's

By Heather Farrar

When about me the winds of sea cover

Over the boat that carries me,

Washing away all which sustains sinew and life,

When each orb of purity becomes dirtied-

with pith and salty brine,

I succumbed to what was no longer mine,

Saying,

"I trust you Lord!"

With each billowing movement of ramped wave,

the abyss of Davies Locker

Primed as my grave-

I bravely stayed, saying,

"I trust you Lord!"

Through each tumultuous pelt of crashing

swollen waters, sea mass

encroaching upon my helpless trial,

When the darkest soul of night- reviled

I said,

"I trust you Lord!"

In each turn of this earthly vessel-

Bounding my spirit aboard,

'round life's rocky cove-

I found a light house that glowed,

Illuminated by Eternal Light,

I again once more said,

"I trust you Lord!"

For,

Above the wave,

above the billowing wind,

Above each stormy cloud,

Serenity remains,

in Heavens tranquil skies

Piloted and Captained by:

My Savior,

Father God,

Ever keeping safe for

Heaven seas

His sparrows.

Sometimes the chapters of this life make absolutely no sense, and sometimes they are unfair. We, who are the brave in faith, know that beyond our own understanding there is more unknown our eyes, ears, and our own life�s walk will ever know, or show the purpose for, until we are given that eternal sight. Throughout this week count the many ways you can say, "I trust you Lord." And release it over to Him. �and do just that, trust him! heather@quillsongs.com      www.quillsongs.co"

Poetizing Life: Warrenton Area Writers Who Have �The Write Stuff�

By: Heather Farrar

Every week I write for you, my dear faithful readers, in forms of prose, poetry or editorial tidbits of life poetically spoken�hopefully in a manner to please the minds-eye and ear. There is much passion, with writing. In my case is it something that is as breath which sustains my life, flowing easy and naturally. I cannot see my life without this form of expression or the act of placing words down; it is like making love with the soul. Writing becomes a place of solace; it begins in a quiet space with no distractions and a blank page and much time for meditation and reflection; abstractly it also rages its need for attention in the loudest moments of life. I am grateful for my fingers ability to caress the keyboard of my aging computer (and vice versa-my aging fingers to caress the keyboard of my computer) or for any pigment to take flight on any surface which can bear a mark. I say the latter like this because one time I was in a restaurant with a friend, and the ghost of writing-which comes upon me at time out of nowhere- took my senses. There was no paper or pen, and the words taking flight were spilling into my conscious brain so fast I felt internal pandemonium as without conscious effort these words bombarded me. I looked around in desperation and asked my friend if she had anything to write with. She jokingly said, �No. But I have lipstick.� From whence I replied, �Give it to me!� After about 12 paper dinner napkins later I owed her a new lipstick. Understanding me as she does, she just grinned, shook her head, and said nothing. That poem was published about 6 months later. On a side note, I will also add I am beyond blessed and especially grateful for this editor (et alia) who believes in my work. For that, no gold or silver could ever be given! Yet, I am not alone for the goal of publication. There are so many writers in this readership with the same passion for writing-who have �The Write Stuff�.

This Saturday, February 19^th 10:30 in the morning, at Scenic Regional Library in WARRENTON, Missouri, I have set up a time for anyone who has a like mind about their writing to gather with me. Writing is such a personal thing, when it is caressed into a fine work and brought to fruition, an art meant for the world�s eyes. Writing, like I said, is full of passions which, if encouraged, expand creativity in each individual who tickles the page with their thoughts, and creations. Each person�s word- art is individual, and each person has a power to move others. There is much that can be shared among our like-minded word-smiths which, when shared, will make us all stronger at our craft. Warren County and the surrounding counties are pregnant with amazing writers and budding talent; I want to create a forum for us to gather, meet, workshop, read and expand on one another�s potential. I see in the future inviting experts in their field to educate us on differing topics in the goal of where most of us want to be and that is published. I see many possibilities and opportunities if, like in the story of �Stone Soup� we gather and pool those talents and resources together we can all indulge in the a feast of knowledge for the greater good of all.

I look forward to our humble first meeting of �The Write Minds� this Saturday at Scenic Regional Library in Warrenton (10:30) in the back of the library (there has been a placement change). Bring a sample of your writing (it�s ok if you don�t have any either!) bring your idea�s, any contest�s you know of; think on your best elevator speech if you want to share about yourself, and let�s get those of us who have �The Write Stuff� gathered for a great group start! heather@quillsongs.com or www.quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: Valentine’s Day Idea’s

By: Heather Farrar

Ah, Valentine’s Day, this day of love. A day when many a man scrambles to make good by expressing his affection to his intended; and the women who are expecting their due. I am just a little sardonic on this subject.   This holiday holds many legends to its cause noble and some not so noble. Yet, the base cause of current involvement in today’s society toward Valentines Day is fueled by non-other than the marketing exploitations of companies, beyond its original inception. The bottom line is it is purely driven by commercial profits, and the expectancies of one intended to the other can cause heartache, instead of heartfelt connections. The cost of love hurts, especially in today’s economy.  When exploring the essence of expression, often times it is not in the pocket book from whence love can be best expressed, it is the effort and attention given in thought and care into HOW you express your love to your intended. Here is a little advice for couples and seekers:

1)      Give from your heart. Often time’s words of true meaning, written down and expressed simply- from you personally- are cherished most. A gift of time and personal thought.

2)      Taylor a gift which speaks the language of love spoken by the intended. Everyone has differing love languages. Express to them in the manner they use and express. Some people say, “I love you” by doing small things that often go unnoticed by the other partner. Be observant of your mates love language and reciprocate to them in this same manner.

3)      Make up a handwritten coupon book offering warm and fuzzies on why you love them and offer your personal pampering like a massage (make sure these coupons are indulgent to them- not you!) It could also be in the form of relief, like going out of your way to make a difference by doing laundry or cooking, something not normal to your everyday movements, yet something they do.

4)      Capturing them off guard when not expected. Remember as a kid, something as simple as a blown up balloon could make you smile? How about a bouquet of balloons with a message written on each one- like candy Sweethearts, hand delivered to your loves work? How about leaving a mixed CD of songs that express how you feel, where you know they will find it…seal it with a kiss (OK, fella’s, this may mean you have to find a man-ly color lip color! In fact take a picture of you sealing it with this special kiss and send it to her from your phone camera!) Sure to make her smile!

The point is even if you are seeking out that person you are interested in, there are many ways to express how you feel, without taking out a loan, breaking the bank, or lightening your wallet much…same for you ladies! Be creative, and continue to be creative. For established couples, two people sometimes forget why they are together; they lose touch with one another or forget how to express themselves-distance becomes the norm. Re-spark that flame and kindle the fire! Know you can enjoy one another for a lifetime, if you learn to communicate in the language heard by your partner. Become a really great listener; learn the art of negotiation and compromise; remain true to commitment (even if you think you have fallen out of love!) and never ever become complacent that the other person will always be there. Always approach the entity of unity with the objectivity of knowing it is delicate with many faucets which may need repair or improving on; always needing nurturing, and always HARD WORK! Like in training for endurance in sports, to achieve the ultimate in the field of love- much time, devotion, understanding, care, personal sacrifice goes into winning it! Have a Happy-creative & frugal- Valentine’s Day, XOXO! heather@yahoo.com or www.quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: Challenging Seasons

In dedication to Debbie

By Heather Farrar

The older I get the more I am not partial to the seasons. Now, I don’t know if it is because of how it affects my bones and arthritis or if it is a reminder of my own seasons lived- and yet to live- in life. As I see it, I am in the summer of my life, maybe mid-to late summer. If I physically move to warmer weather, that mental reminder may not be so apparent and I can move through life with the knowledge that it will always be summer no matter where I am. My bones won’t be aching as much to remind me either. Spiritually though I would not grow if I went into things with this narrowed idea. Not that I still don’t think moving to warmer weather isn’t a bad idea, no, that much still holds firm for me. What I am saying is right now in life, mentally, if I think this way I may miss out on the here and now of what life is telling me within these seasons.

The other day, I lost a co-worker /friend to cancer, an ugly cancer which was quick in its taking. She was the most vibrate, vivacious, full of life person I have ever met. Though we only knew one another for a few short years, within those short years she treated our relationship as if we were long time friends, when we were together. She called me her, “Sister from another mother.” It still brings tears to my eyes. Her passing was so hard, on so many; as those whom she drew into her world were embraced into this same space. I did learn something from her I bet she never knew she was teaching…and that was live fully today your life, in your own way, and always have hope for tomorrow.

Living in the here and now, within the summer of my life, means I can pivot and look back, knowing with a linear view all which I could have done better; though regrets will not bring a fuller life, so within that I have to make peace with those moments already lived, and move on. If I focus only on the future, the end is eventually there, and inevitable; how far ahead I don’t want to know, but it is there. So to plan for a future by living each day as if it mattered tomorrow, is the better way.

No, I am not partial to the seasons anymore. Their affect is sobering. But for today, I will embrace the coming winter, knowing that when I am in the winter of my life, I AM still living life to the fullest I CAN. Though frost may be on this pumpkin, within me seeds of hope will still be fervent with eventual fruition by planting them tenderly. Despite Arthur making his home in the limbs and trunk of my living tree, I will reach deeply knowing the roots I established in others, sprout shoots and offspring of greater limber proportions with spring’s new sun.

“Now we see but a poor reflection;
then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part;
then I shall know fully, even as I am full known.

And now these three remain:  faith, hope and love.
But the greatest of these is love.”

NIV... I CORINTHIANS  13: 12-13

A life well lived, is a well lived life; the impact of that life remains in the heart and soul of all whom reached out to embrace it’s smiling light…like Debbie’s. We love you and miss you greatly, but heaven is better for that smiling presence!

heather@quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: Saturday Records, Sawdust & Kitchen Sink Soup

Back when I was growing up, Saturday was set apart. Not like Sunday. Sunday was reserved for special breakfast and our Sunday finest for which we then attended St. Charles Presbyterian Church on the corner of Sibley and Gamble; where Dr. Cannon and then later on, Dr. McCaruthers, would pierce our souls with the occasional, hell-fire-and brimstone sermon, to let all the sin run out; for which our repenting happened somewhere between the doxology and the �Our Father� prayer. Sometimes, after church, my mom and I would stop for an �angel� donut from King Donuts on First Capital.

If we didn�t go to church (which was rare) I enjoyed sitting at the breakfast table long after breakfast to watch on our 12 inch black and white TV �Wrestling At the Chase� mesmerized by the length and girth of Andre the Giant! At noon, the early matinee came on channel 11, usually with a re-run of an old Tarzan or Charlie Chan movie. The second movie was always a classic. My favorites were the old war movies, like-�Tora, Tora, Tora� or �The Dirty Dozen� but then again the spaghetti westerns were fun too-who could pass up �The Good, The Bad and the Ugly or �A Fist Full of Dollars?� Yet again, best of all- a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, Bob Hope, or Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis Classic!

But, I digress, as the focus here is Saturday�s!

Occasionally on a Saturday, Daddy and I would have the solace of this day set aside. He being the executive during the work-week would spend the morning as the amazing craftsman that he is, in the basement. Around noon he would come up the stairs from his mornings sawing, nailing, carving, inlaying, routing, staining, gluing, or downright lathing his way into or out of a project, select a record from the stereo-record cabinet- he designed and made- put on the record player, a select record, and turn up the volume. Mind you-mom was out shopping, and we could listen to all the Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass, 43 Scottish Highlander Pipe Band, and Barbara Streisand AS LOUD AS HE WANTED- while the space was his. I would dance around the floor, and dream I was singing or leading the bands.

Next, he would go into the kitchen, grab a cold brew, and proceed to make his famous �kitchen sink soup.� Now you ask-�What is �kitchen sink ssoup�?� So glad you did! It�s a culinary delight, concocted from whatever is left over in the refrigerator from the week before. It�s always different every time�and always good! In our house, we LOVED when Daddy cooked. On the week-ends Mom frequently got the week-end off, on cook�s duties- to our delight! Don�t get me wrong- mom made a mean �Chop Suey!� (�thank you La Choy!)

No, Saturday�s were set apart for dreaming, creating, and making our memories without knowing they were being made. There were no video games (though I did get �Pong� when it first came out�but that is a story for another issue!) We had stereos, but no walk-man or IPod, IPad or IPhone and it was OK. Daddy and I enjoyed the moment of just being in the moment, whittled away in energetic tunes-we had to manually change on the record player, and everything but the kitchen �sink� -soup!

heather@quillsongs.com or www.quillsongs.com for the audio version.

Saturday, February 19 at Scenic Regional Library, if you have the �Write Stuff� or just love writing,

attend our first informal writers meeting at 10:30.

Poetizing Life: American Terrorist, Brings Great Loss

By: Heather Farrar

It seems we are born into this world with one lesson to learn, and that is loss. Natural loss is just that- natural. And then there are the loss’s we have to endure economically; loss, yes, but one that can be learned from and changed. Then there are the emotional and philosophical losses, both of which can strengthen our appreciation of life and its lessons. Sadly, there are senseless acts which create loss.

The shooting in Tucson Arizona, was a senseless act, creating senseless losses. This kind of loss is beyond tragic…especially here in America. The impact of it was short of absolutely abhorrent for those who have common reverence for human life. When one person takes into their hands the act of being judge and god, they are sadly acting by their personal foundations of misguided immorality, and we all mourn.   Veteran federal public defender Judy Clarke will have her hands full in convicting any court in Jared Lee Loughner’s case of any reason for this action she may try to defend him with.   Till then he has free room, free board, and free legal help. Justice? You decide. But one thing is certain, and that is this: how this case evolves will determine the course for actions in others out there who are considering acting on their misguided thoughts in creating a situation of “loss.” This is a terribly sad but poignant point to make.

Violence, especially unwarranted acts of violence is not the “voice” of these United States of America. Short of an act of war, which occurred in this country during the Revolutionary War for our independent rights to become a free nation; and the division between the state’s during the Civil War while our country was still young a nation establishing its rights with growing pains to establish firm all men are created equal; violent acts such as this in Tucson,Arizona, is American Terrorism. A case for making it so should be firmly applied. The violence “voice” used was for a greater good. All who were injured or killed during that act of American Terrorism by a sad individual is a horrific act, and should be equally treated accordingly and made an example of intolerance!

The innocent nine year old girl, Christina-Taylor Green, whose life was cut short because of her love and need for knowledge of American politics, touched my heart deeply. As a mom, I cannot imagine waking up one day to knowing my child is no longer here because of such horrid circumstance. In 1999, I wrote a poem for a child who had lost her life to E-coli, another loss that made no sense. I wrote this poem for her, as at the time my own children were very small and that loss seemed devastating for me. I want to re-dedicate this to all who have lost a child, including the mother of Christina-Taylor Green. Christina's own short life was marked between two tragic events…both an act of terrorism.

Let Me Just Remember…

By: Heather Farrar

Let me just remember her,

Let me hold her in my mind.

Let me wipe the tears away,

And kiss the boo-boo good-bye.

Let me touch her innocent face- as she sleeps,

Let me just remember her, PLEASE!

Please don’t shut me out, when I want to talk.

Let me just remember her…

Her sweetness as a child.

Let me just remember her…

for a little while.

Don’t try to calm me down,

Or take away my pain,

For I just need this time to bring her back again!

…back again…

…for just a little while.

Let me just remember her.

Sit with me, and just be there.

While in my mind I stroke her hair,

And feel her baby soft skin.

Look into those delightful eyes,

And share her Forget-me-not grin.

Let me just remember her-

As I brought her to my breast.

Let me just remember her as our hearts

beating as one.

Let me just remember her,

As I gave her back to the Lord.

Let me just remember her

….As her spirit to Him soared.

Oh, let me just remember her,

For a little while

Let me just remember my

precious little angel child.

Let my hold her in my mind

Let me wipe away the tears and

Kiss the boo-boo good-bye,

Let me touch her innocent face

As she sleeps…

…And I cry… my last…

…Good-bye.

Visit www.quillsongs.com for the YouTube/audio version; contact me : heather@quillsongs.com

Poetizing Life: My Final Thoughts in 2010

By: Heather Farrar

I have enjoyed writing this column for almost two years now, with such joy it brings me in being able to share my tidbits, prose and poetry. I have enjoyed the feeling of opening up the paper each week to see my column there. I have enjoyed all the people who have commented on the column, with their own stories and accomplishments; adding their thoughts and input also. I am grateful for all those who entered in the poetry contest earlier this year, and everyone who sent me their writing. I want to thank Robert E. Browne, a fellow poet whom I am deeply grateful to have gotten know, yet have never met in person, for his poetry input in several columns. I am grateful for this venue and its staff, for all the hard work they do each week to make it available to all of us. Many newspapers are fading around this country, but The Focus News, is strong and vital in the communities it serves. I can say this as an unpaid patron and participant in its inclusion.

It has been quite a year, 2010. It has brought change, as every year does. This year brought lasting changes into my own life that I am better and worse for; even in admitting to the worse, I am ever grateful in that, because without it, I never would have grown. I learned who my real friends are. I also learned what it was to be a real friend to them.

2010 brought on much travel in my life as I travelled to Tampa, Florida to Laser Spine Institute to have a less invasive back surgery, and ever grateful for its success, yet humbled to the frailty of our wonderfully created bodies. Health is so important-mental and physical. Then I travelled to LA, once more, as this year brought yet another opportunity to learn more about my craft of voicing as I attended VOICE 2010 (Voice Over International Experience, established by James Alberger & Penny Abshire of www.VoiceActing.com) as I mingled with wonderful like minds such as Pat Fraley, Joe Cipriano, Ashton Smith, Bob Bergen, and Maurice LaMarche. The highlight of that event was my one on one chat with the voice of your favorite flying squirrel and mine, “Rocky,” or, better known as June Foray. At 93, she is amazingly beautiful and witty! I am still with chills of giddy excitement on that one! This fall I took part in a national voice over public service announcement, the first of its kind.

I took a scary leap and started my own company, Quillsongs Media and Publishing, LLC, a media creative company specializing in voice over, creative copy, and media creative products for marketing and business. My specialty, so far in need, has been helping businesses with their “on hold,” PBX, IVR and telephony message systems, by writing the copy or becoming the “Voice” of their company greeting. I also am seeing upcoming opportunities for narration both industrial (company) and books. My goal this year is actual publications, and product productions of several of my own writing projects. We’ll see.

Much of my prose this year in my column has reflected on the fact that we are not our own, but are obligated to be a part of a much greater thing than ourselves. Though we may not agree with one another religiously, philosophically, or politically, we are indebted to consider the human nature divinely created in dealing with one another in love on a daily basis, and to open our minds to becoming closer to the Divine. Life is short, and it’s in our everyday movements that we create a life well lived with good conscious effort and without the burden of sin; as we are freely given a gift of redemption-we just need to seek it.

I wish everyone a wonderful, prosperous, safe, and beautiful New Year in 2011! May God Bless Us All!

heather@quillsongs.com or www.quillsongs.com