I'm just a country girl who has never been anywhere or done anything much. I was born and raised in Oklahoma. Rural for first 6 years. Came to Guymon from Woodward at the age of 9. My husband worked for the City and funds were never a lot though I subsidised our income with my photography.
We have 3 sons grown up now and 10 grandchildren if you don't count the foster children and the foster grand
children. When I look back in my albums, I realize the rest is a gift from God.
We have had a good life already. I had the privilege of singing in a gospel trio (the low part) and although we only traveled within a 100 mile radius of our town, we sang together and loved each other for 27 years. Never had a disagreement and are still friends today. I am the oldest of the trio. Our lead singer would bring a lesson after we had sung about 10 songs, and I would draw an illustration using the flourescent chalk. It was such fun to praise the Lord in this way and hear the people take in their breath when we turned out the lights!
A wonderful friend I met on the internet, Joyce Lock, inspired me to share and helped me with all these writings for the last 2 years and then through her I met Shirley Miller (both are poets) and she set up Under His Wings Website for me. She manages it and is a wonderful friend. You must have visited HEAVENLY POETRY http://www.heavenlypoetry.com which was set up originally by my foster grandson and really opened the world to me. We are in the process of moving this website.
I am sorry to say, all the books are gone (it was a little hometown project) and the CD my grandson was going to help me with never materialized as
he moved to another city.
May God bless you for honoring a small town grandma who is already blest beyond measure. In His service, Joan Clifton Costner
When the trumpet sounds
And the King of Kings
Splits the eastern sky ...
When the dead rise first
And the saved are snatched,
Forever to be by His side ...
Whenever I can,
I’ll bow my knee
To kiss the nail pierced feet.
For, I know all the scars,
That Jesus has,
Were put there just for me.
When the God of all
Sits on His throne
And men come, one by one ...
All knees will bow
and tears will flow,
Some regretting and some in awe.
Then, will they remember
The times they’ve bowed,
The times they have stood in line ...
For just a glimpse
Of someone on earth
Who had seemed so very sublime?
Since Jesus ascended
so long ago,
Not a single man on earth ...
Could answer the smallest
(Or largest) prayer
That was prayed for all it's worth!
Since the heavy veil,
In the holy of holies,
Split, from the top right down ...
There’s no one to stand,
Between us and our Maker,
Giving nod or pious frown.
So, my knees are stiff,
Save when I come
To the great Creator of all ...
Of galaxies, matter,
And even of time.
Only then will I fall.
So gladly, I’ll give
My praise and my love.
So thankfully will I recall ...
My knees never bent
To imposters that crave,
But only to Lord of All!
"Thou shalt have no other gods before me." Exodus 20:3 "Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey, whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness." Romans 6:16
Here’s to the men (of the red, white, and blue)
Whose patriot’s hearts burned high,
To the women who served us, on land and on sea, Some even in the sky.
I’d like to say, "Thank you," that we’ll never know The outcome if you had not gone
And to tell you I’ll never forget your deed,
As long as my life lingers on.
For, I was a child when the great war came
And you just a dozen years more.
Some of you fought on a distant beach.
Some died on a foreign shore.
I’d hate to forget those heroes of old,
From the "War to end all wars".
Korea, Vietnam, and Desert Storm
Proved that men fight evermore.
God, help us all when brave men say,
"Not today. Let’s just wait and see."
For, tyrants come in so many ways
And I’ve heard of complacency.
When integrity falls in the dust by the way,
When conviction fails to command,
When there’s no one to bugle or carry the flag,
What will become of our land?
So, here’s to the heroes and heroines true!
Here’s to the brave and the free!!
With my hand on my chest as the flag passes by,
I remember what you did for me!!!
The Cross! The Cross!
Where Holy Blood all down did flow -
Where people stood on Holy Ground
And did not know....
Where angels gasp, and closed their eyes;
And foolish men, believing,
Became wise.
The Cross! The Cross!
Where Love divine and bitter gall would meet;
And tears would flow, not for Himself, but me!
Where even nature wept and trembled through -
Where darkness fell with force
Ere night was due.
The Cross! The Cross!
Where Satan laughed and thought that he had won, But Christ knew when the deed was done It would not be the devil’s victory -
It would be souls that He, Himself
set free!
The Cross! The Cross!
The ugly plan of men to bring most pain
Has brought instead for us, a Heaven’s gain!
The symbol of a horrid death depose and
Fill my heart with treasure Christ well knows.
The Cross! The Cross!
The insidious sign now made so beautiful!
The ultimate loss - ultimate gain!
The Son of God - dead but alive -
Forever more the same!
I cannot look upon the cross but know
There is no measure of the love that flows
There is no measure of the strength of Blood;
Oh, Holy Blood, sweep o’er me like a flood.
After the heat of the battle's long day,
John happened to pass where a young soldier lay; Covered with blood, limbs twisted askew ... And found, after all, his compassion still grew.
So, John moistened the dying man's lips and his face, And lovingly straightened his limbs into place. He listened, and prayed, and stayed by his side; Trying to comfort him ere he died.
Jim looked up at John. So grateful was he. And, as life slipped away, just a faint word could be. A request for a paper was what John heard. With a blunt lead pencil, Jim wrote his last words,
"Dear Dad, Receive John, I humbly pray. For, he has made my last moments easier today. He has done all he could, nor left me alone. So for my sake, Dear Father, treat him as your own." Love, Jim
The war ended soon and though John was ill clad, He had promised to get Jim's last words to his dad.
So, he made the long journey. Weary and worn,
he found, at last, the way to Jim's home.
The father was wealthy; not used to such sights
Of tattered, bedraggled, rough soldiers at night.
What could an unkempt, ragged, man have to give; Soldier or not, of least interest to him?
Then, the note was tenderly handed and read. And, the weeping old father believed what it said. For that trembling hand portrayed clearly to him The familiar slant with the signature, "Jim."
The old father reached (though immaculate he) And drew John as close as could possibly be. He wept and he held John next to his breast; Drew him inside for good food and rest.
He lay at John's hands anything he might need. He dressed him in velvet and gave him his steed. Jim's father loved John in a very special way, Because of the name on that crude note that day.
Now, I stand in my tattered old rags of sod Before an immaculate, pure, holy God; In need, oh, yes, in such terrible need. And, not one single part can be furnished by me.
But, I have a note and it's written in red. He opens it up. As I tremble, it says,
"Father, open the gate for My sake I pray.
This one is mine, paid in full today." Love, Jesus
All the glory and splendor of Heaven is mine! I'm made worthy to stand in His presence divine! Not for me, but for Him! Not my works, but His own Have gained me a robe, and a crown, and a Home
In the corner, of the basement,
Stood a cobweb covered harp.
Broken now and so forsaken,
There it stood back in the dark.
No one, in the little village,
Could repair the harp again.
And, you'd never guess the music ~
Or the places it had been.
Came a ragged man a beggin'
For a place out of the cold,
He was bent and slightly limpin'.
He was lookin' frail and old.
So, the houseman gave permission.
He could sleep upon the floor
Of the basement, where was kept
The harp - with melody no more.
Soon, the house was filled with music!
'Twas as sweet as angels bring.
And, the household came a-runnin',
Just to see the vibrant strings!
Dusted now, it stood in beauty.
Every web was cleared away.
And, the ragged man was singing
Very softly as he played.
In his song, he told the story
How he'd made that harp, when new.
Since he'd made its first beginning,
Fixing wasn't hard to do.
Dear friend, if you are needing
Just a touch from God above,
Just remember Who has made you.
He can "fix" you with His love.
He can fill the empty corners
Of your heart with song anew.
He can take each day and make
A special melody for you!
He can fix the broken pieces,
Better even than before,
And open wide the storehouse
Of His blessing evermore!
Mike Christian is an American.
I don’t know where he was born,
But I know that when in our service,
He was a prisoner - wounded and worn.
Mike found a bit of color and
With a needle - all by hand,
Inside his shirt he constructed
Colors dear to his own land.
Every night, when guards were weary
And had gone somewhat away,
Mike would hang his shirt upon the wall -
All of the prisoners would say ...
"I pledge allegiance to the flag" ...
"One nation under God "...
While their hearts enlarged within their breasts,
Longing for their own sod.
One day the guards came searching
And they found inside Mike’s shirt
The crudely constructed flag that served
To lift their spirits from the dirt.
Just outside the cell door,
Where everyone would hear,
For more than two hours they beat Mike up
And took that shirt, so dear.
They threw Mike (broken, bleeding)
To the men, so they could see
The penalties, the pay-off,
For Pledging to Liberty.
The group gathered, all around him,
To clean and treat his wounds.
They only loved their land the more
And the flag, their symbol of truth!
There wasn’t much that they could do.
Their spirits sank so low.
They had seen the enemy faces
As they took their flag to go.
But, Mike Christian found a needle
And through bleeding, swollen, eyes,
His buddies watched in wonder,
As he began another surprise!
He took a bit of red, a bit of white, a bit of blue.
He made the stitches, with torn hands, and all of his buddies knew
Mike Christian was an American -
Through and through and through!
Old man and his wife on the patio square;
In a swinging seat, no one else there.
Others were milling farther out on the grass.
And though none of my business, I finally asked,
"Have you children?" The aging old eyes held mine,
"Yes, three sons ... gone now, for a very long time.
They were young, patriotic, and we knew they would go.
Though mama did beg them to wait, it was, "No."
Jimmy, the oldest, was on Normandy.
Steven held out 'till a day called "D".
David seemed so young. But, we couldn't keep
Him from taggin' along, at his brother's feet.
By now, we'd probably be covered with kids. Grandchildren, great grands might well have been. But, they fought for freedom. And always we fly Our flag so high, on the fourth of July!
On Veterans Day, they place on their graves Small red, white, and blues. We never miss The parade and the honor services set. A lot of important people we've met.
Still, it would have been nice, a grandchild or two; Someone to care and help you to do The things that grow harder, each year that we live, And to see (like others) the "traits" of the kids."
Now, I never lost a son in a war. Do I pass it lightly? I won't anymore. For, my own little "grands" play by my chair. And, it's such sweet pleasure to have them there;
Free and unhampered, delighted with life ...
Causing me to remember how dear the price!
Some lonely old patriots gave more than a son.
We ought to remember what cost freedom's won.
We thought there should be a photo, at least. So, we pleaded ... with broken hearts, too. Just one shot of the twins, with Mother, Who was worn from the labor, we knew.
It was dismal and dull, and the times were hard; Not enough work to go around. These were the last, the hardest of all. Now, one must go in the ground.
Mama was old for a baby at all, Let alone identical twins. "No wonder we lost him, no wonder!" we said. Her face was pale and grim.
So, we laid little babies, one on each side, And we dreamed of what might have been. We all cried a little. But, her tears came down Like a rushing, o’erflowing, stream!
There were things to do. A few brought food. Then, the church people came and said They were sorry, no services in the church, For the tithe had not been paid.
For the rest of my life, I’ve carried the look In my mind on mama’s face!
Sometimes, these 'religious' ones make it hard To understand 'Loving Grace'.
It‘s straightened out, now, and I do not hold Any grudge against any man. But, I’ve studied the likes of Jesus and find He’s certainly not like that band!
Jesus would comfort and, maybe, weep, too. Jesus would dry her tears. He might even give her a glimpse of Heaven, Simply to soothe her cares.
Mama had given so much of herself, Always a smile and a cheer. Mama was more like the Savior, that day, Than any revealed all these years.
Now, they’ve all gone to Heaven and I’m growing old. I’ll join them before very long. By the Grace of God, only, I’ll find them all there; Singing a heavenly song.
As long as I have, I’ll study His Word So I can be more like Him. For, God in His Heaven, knows very well I never want to be like them!
If any heart is broken, bruised, or bleeding ~ If any eyes are downcast, feeling blue, If any soul is sad and lonely; longing To leave this world and come and live with You ...
If there’s a voice that cannot make the music, If there are lips that tremble, saying naught; Oh, Lord, give me a heart full of compassion And words to say just what You think I ought ...
To lift a heart, to brighten eyes, To fire a soul for You! To pass on hope and lighten loads, I’d surely for You do!
The time You measured out for me
Is slipping ever fast! Lord, grant my deep desire to serve Before my time is passed.
Within the heart of one young child, Could I, Lord, leave a song ~
Or words for some boy serving in A land that’s far from home?
Most of all, my plea is made To never cause distress. Create soft words of wisdom, Lord, That produce happiness!
Does God really know that a little girl hurts When a brother is taken away? Does He know that she aches ‘til her little heart breaks And feels darkness has come there to stay?
Does He care like He cares about grown-ups? Does He offer her comfort and peace? Will He pick out a day and say, "This is the one When all of your heartache will cease"?
I wonder if little ones count just as much As the grown-ups that everyone holds. I wonder if God tries to speak to hearts. I wonder if God really knows.
Oh, God counts the fall of one sparrow! He numbers the hairs of your head! God sent His own little Baby, down here, So that we might rightly be led!
God loves each child in His keeping. And, He tells us, in Matthew eighteen, That our angels are there, beholding His face, Keeping His eye upon us - so keen!
God puts His big arms around us
And, after awhile, we can see That His arms are everlasting; Holding us so tenderly.
So, don’t doubt the comfort of Jesus, Who never turns children away, Remember, your brother is safe in His arms, Where you, too, can be some day!
Don’t be sad, Mom. Please don’t cry. The Lord called so quickly and suddenly, I just rose up to meet Him in the sky. And, Mom, I never did fear to die. For, I could see Jesus was right by my side.
I can see you shedding tears.
But now, I see beyond mortal years, Beyond limitations of mortal eyes, To God’s final purpose ~ to God’s paradise.
The reasons are clear, Mom, and I understand. How I wish I could reach down and just take your hand, And whisper the Great Love in which I abide. But, I am here and you’re on the other side.
I’d like to just touch you, make you understand, That I was just loaned, Mom, for awhile, in God’s plan. Remember the good times. Forget all the bad. Be thankful for all of the prayer times we had.
I can’t come back, Mom. But, I love you still. So, I trust you’ll always seek God’s perfect will. The blood of the Savior, the Pathway of Love, Will lead you, quite safely, to Heaven above.
Sometimes, just be still, Mom, and listen to God. And, He will show you the way you must trod. On that great day of rapture, we’ll meet in the sky; The circle unbroken through eons of time!
God, If any heart is broken, bruised, or bleeding ~ If any eyes are downcast, feeling blue, If any soul is sad and lonely; longing To leave this world and come and live with You ...
If there’s a voice that cannot make the music, If there are lips that tremble, saying naught; Oh, Lord, give me a heart full of compassion And words to say just what You think I ought ...
To lift a heart, to brighten eyes, To fire a soul for You! To pass on hope and lighten loads, I’d surely for You do!
The time You measured out for me
Is slipping ever fast! Lord, grant my deep desire to serve Before my time is passed.
Within the heart of one young child, Could I, Lord, leave a song ~ Or words for some boy serving in A land that’s far from home?
Most of all, my plea is made
To never cause distress. Create soft words of wisdom, Lord, That produce happiness!
You’ll never be an angel Though sometimes it’s hard to tell, For you have ways becoming and You’d play an angel well;
But God made you uniquely - Only one you’ll ever find - I’ll know you up in Heaven, You’ll still be a friend of mine.
God made a lot of angels and He gave them certain tasks. A warrior, and a messenger - They fly whene’er He asks;
But we were made a different way With wills to call our own, and We decide with our free will Our everlasting home.
I read about the cheribim - (Ezekiel told it well!) Gabriel, the messenger, Michael making war on hell.
But Jesus was still Jesus When He rose up from the grave, We will know and recognize Him In the land of endless day.
You’ll still be you - I’ll still be me A million years from now; No telling what the Lord will have For us to do...Somehow
I’m glad, although I know we’ll change With bodies just like Jesus, But I’ll still know you and see you Just the way that Jesus sees us!
"We will be known as we are known" I Cor. 13:12 "Masterpiece created in Jesus" Eph. 2:10 "To us gave He power to become the Sons (daughters) of God." John 1:12
Yesterday, we only see in distance. Tomorrow, dreams of hope locked in a maze. Today is all we have to grasp to manage. Today is ours, but running fast away.
We never can go back to any yesterday, Or leap ahead to deal tomorrow’s cards. But, if we live today, as Jesus said we should, Neither Hope or memory will be hard.
We are so blest, rememb’ring deeds of kindness, And to hope for good and peace for all mankind. Today’s the key, you see. We learn, from mem’ry, to bless with something new and leave a precious memory behind.
Then, when we come to those dull days of boredom Where tomorrow we know we may never reach, Still, we can sift the pages of our Yesterday And have something wonderful to teach!
When I first found the footprints of Jesus, I thought them so big and bold! I skipped, ran, and played, as I followed Such an easy image to hold.
But as I grew older and wondered, Mistrusting my childhood days,
The footprints weren't easy to follow. Sometimes, they seemed in a haze.
I found, when I prayed in the darkness, The footprints grew luminous, then. Each night, I would ask for His guidance; In the morning, begin again.
I followed them through the glitter, When youth kissed my cheeks with a blush. When pride gets a hold, makes you stumble, New ideas threaten your trust.
Finally, I followed those footprints Right down to the edge of life’s sea. Footprints on water, I saw then. These sure could not be for me!
I ran down the sandy beach searching. (There must be some other prints there.) But, I found I had followed those footprints so long, No other prints could compare!
The waves were beating the shoreline. The clouds and the tumult came!
I had to step out to follow. The water resounded His name!
Lightning came, with the hiss of power. But, its light revealed, up ahead, The figure of One Whose footsteps, All the way, through my life had led!
I can’t take my eyes off that Figure! So, my eyes growing dim now, with years, Hold fast to the footprints, my Savior, As the distance between disappears.
Soon! Oh, soon! I’ll have His hand in mine, now, And the waves will all disappear! I’ll be able to hear Him whisper,
"Heaven is very near!"
Blessed footprints of Jesus, my Savior! From a child, all the way, they have been Directing the way I should follow
To go home, at last, with Him!
My son, my tiny son, For whom I labored And finally won!
Oh, great the prize! I see it in your tiny eyes; My wonderful, precious, unique surprise.
Oh, I knew you would be you and God knew. But, my farthest imaginings Did not dent my first glimpse of you! Cleft in chin (how like him), beautiful skin; Features of my beloved can be found ... Chubby face, so round.
And, do you bear resemblance, too, Of Him? Does God have a dimple in His chin? Your soul, so small, Will grow with all we teach and tell.
Little soul, precious to us ... Precious to Him! God, help us. The way is obscure, foggy, and dim.
Please ... Patches of sunlight for us, For him, we pray.
When you’re lost in a sea of indifference, When you’re drowning, but nobody cares, When it seems all is lost, though you’ve paid the high cost And you can’t pierce the ceiling with prayers;
When you’re standing for right ~ but alone in your fight ~ When your heart is breaking in two; Dear friend, just recall the sparrows that fall ~ He really does care for you.
Sometimes in losing, we win more, And sometimes the battle’s not o’er; Sometimes the struggle brings forth the strength To raise us up where eagles soar.
When we have reached the high places And we gaze at the valley below The tapestry woven, will look from above Like it never could from here below.
God does have a plan and a purpose, And things never happen by chance; What you see through the lens with study Is not just the same as a glance.
So when troubles and trials beset you, Hold on! And study with care! And you’ll find the trace of His finger - You’ll know he is answering prayer!
It is not just the present and past He can see - And it’s not just the loss or the win; But He sees beyond and He sees results - He knows how the twig turns and bends.
I like to think that each twist and turn In this gnarled old bark of mine, Drove my roots deeper still, seeking guidance until They’re forever entwined in Thine!
II Cor. 12:9 "And He said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.:
The devil laughed and danced with glee, "I’ve got them now, this 'Christian' country. For, they have forgotten their very roots. They’ll believe any demon I care to loose!
When the towers fall, it will knock them flat! They won’t know where their enemy’s at! So many years its been 'anything goes'. They’ll never guess who is really their foe!"
So, the living bombs came and the towers fell. But, they were astounded in the regions of hell! Like a laser of light, as the smoke descended, God’s Name, in a prayer of unison, ascended!
A million prayers, as a shaft of light, Besieging God to see our plight! As a nation of one, we fell to our knees. Words, once used with caution, came, now, with ease.
We wouldn’t offend or mix God and law. We silently let the protocol fall,
"Take out religion, the Bible, and prayer.
Our youth need their freedom, experience to share."
The things that we made available, then, Were shameful to mention and steeped in sin. But, the seed did not die! When the towers came down, Brave, caring, hearts heard a beautiful sound!
The old songs of patriots, the beautiful prayers, The scriptures of duty and love were all there! Sometimes, in a tragedy, blessing will come. You learn, by reaction, what needs to be done.
"If My people" - (it says it, so simple and plain); The way to our Helper, our Savior and King! Lord, take off our blinders. Let us understand The basic and dominate roots of our Land!
The wicked shall be turned into hell,
and all the nations that forget God.
Psalm 9:17
Blessed are the people whose God is the Lord.
I do not share this looking for empathy from the reader. Only to point out that in the midst of the deepest hurt,
God can bring home the understanding of His Great
Love.
~ Bend In The Road
~
Understanding must be difficult for
me, as my lessons have been hard. Come to think of it, my heart has always
been what got me in trouble. But, one lesson stands out in particular,
today.
My granddaughter, at 5 lbs. and 2 weeks of age, was quietly
deposited into my arms.
I thought it was for the evening. Only, it
lasted for 3 years. I will tell you that I tried desperately to remember
that I was her mother-once-removed. I was her grandmother.
Over and over, I said, "Remember, she is not your child."
But, what do
you do when a baby is there 24/7, when you do the midnight bottle and change the
diapers, sing the go-to sleep lullaby, and kiss the tiny tears? Unless you
are heartless, you fall in love, platonic love (the best kind), for such a
helpless little soul. And, I did.
Then, came divorce. Since
she was my son’s daughter, and I was convinced we would both die, the long
battle began ... a battle I never wanted, but was forced to, after watching for
these 3 years.
I just want to relate this one incident that taught me a
deep truth. I have always revered God’s love and, also, wondered at
it.
One particular trip for visitation, I had to go alone, and God gave
me such a lesson!
Having arrived at the home of her maternal
grandparents, my granddaughter began to cry and beg, and hold on to me.
(She always fought going back so hard. We had to run after her, catch her,
and hold her to get her into the car.) This timeher mother was present, and it infuriated
her.
My granddaughter had locked her legs around my waist and
fastened her arms around my neck. Her mother grabbed her and pulled
her viciously from my body. (I hadn’t known a child
that small could hold on so tight.) Then, her mother spanked her, in front
of us, and carried her into the house.
There was a large picture window,
inside the house, and this little 3 yr. old ran straight to it. With tears
streaming down her face and tiny arms stretched as far open as they would go,
she was reaching to the window, with eyes fixed on me, emploring me..."Don't go,
don't leave!" I could read her little lips. I can’t even begin to
tell you of the pain of those moments.
Getting into the car, I started
home. I couldn’t see to drive, as the tears rolled down my face and I
didn’t even wipe them away. My heart was completely broken, all because of
love. We both hurt because we loved each other. I pulled over
several times and, then, back onto the road.
The bend of
the road where I began to tell the Lord I just couldn’t stand it any
more, stands out like a beacon to me yet today. I told Him
it was as if every cell in my body was in contractions like unto birth. I
just couldn’t bear it. I loved her so
much!
God responded, "I know. That is the way I love every
person in the whole world, everyone that has lived and everyone that will live
... which is the only reason I could let My Son die the death He
did."
All of a sudden, I truly understood God’s love! He had to be
God to hold all that love and all that hurt. Only God could do it. I
always knew God loved us. But, never before had I understood the depth and
greatness - the agony of that tremendous love.
I do not understand why
people don’t seek the most pleasant way, when there are divorces and
disagreements. For, children are the victims of such terrible pain.
Why anyone wants to add one moment of suffering is more than I will ever be able
to understand. But, I do know that, right in the midst of a great
heartbreak, God can bring a message home that can’t be
misunderstood.
1/25/2007