B"H

Today is my wife's birthday, so I wrote a poem for her and I want to share it here.

Another year has come and gone and we're a little bit older,

But our days are growing rich and a little less colder.

Together we have raised a girl and a boy

Through laughter and pain

Through sunshine and rain

The seeds we once planted are now flowers we enjoy.

When you were young you invested your talents and skills,

To build a home where our dreams would one day be fulfilled.

So now we celebrate this season with you,

Happy Birthday my dear wife as you turn fifty-two.

© Shlomo Brabham - 2011

B"H

Early this morning a man was assaulted and stabbed multiple times on the steps of 1st Presbyterian Church here in Macomb. Even in a small rural town such as this, tragedy, via violent crime, is no stranger. I want to encourage all my readers to pray for the victim, his family and also the individual who is guilty of this horrible act.

Once a month a free meal is served to all local residents. This is a cooperative effort undertaken by many local citizens and several Churches and other organizations. The monthly Project H.O.P.E. meal is presently hosted by 1st Pres in their basement Fellowship Hall. While this event has been growing in its scope and outreach each month, unfortunately, today's meal was canceled due to the above mentioned incident.

B"H

A Kitchen Prayer

Lord of all pots and pans and things, since I've not time to be,

A saint by doing lovely things or watching late with thee.

Or dreaming in the dawn light or storming Heaven's gates,

Make me a saint by getting meals and washing up the plates.

Although I must have Martha's hands, I have a Mary mind,

And when I black the boots and shoes, Thy sandals Lord I find.

I think of how they trod the earth, what time I scrub the floor,

Accept this meditation Lord, I haven't time for more.

Warm all this kitchen with Thy love, and light it with Thy peace.

Forgive me all my worrying, and make my grumbling cease.

Thou who did love to give men food, in room or by the sea,

Accept this service that I do, I do it unto Thee.

By Klara Munkres

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For many years this little poem hung in my mother's kitchen and I read it there over and over. Finally I committed it to memory so I could share it with others who never met my mom. In 1998, after my father died and we inherited their house, my wife packed up this delicate wall hanging and now it graces the eastern wall of our home. We are far removed from New York these days and harbor no plans to return there other than for an occasional visit. Nevertheless, the warm memories we hold from that place are still with us, despite the distance and the years.

Blessings,

Shlomo