Warrior - Poem

I wrote the following poem for my son, when he was preparing to report for duty in the Navy.

Warrior -

Remember – Son of God

    You enlisted in God’s navy

    Long before man’s

    Committing to defend

    His gospel plan

Shrink not when challenged

    Gain other’s respect

    Strengthened against enemy

    Truth’s emissary

    Answering Mormon curiosity

Dual military mission

    Requiring life’s sacrifice

    Clothe in God’s armor

    Exercise Priesthood power

    Chosen heaven warrior

Through flames of fire

    God defends those

    Who fight His battles

    Surrounding and protecting

    With legions of angels

Janice Harten

Oct 6, 2008
Copyright © 2012 Janice Harten.  All rights reserved.

Grandfather - War History

My grandfather wrote a history about his service as a foot soldier in France, in WWI.  He tells about his enlistment and receiving a Patriarchal blessing before he left:

"Your life shall be precious in the eyes of the Lord. You shall be upheld and sustained and preserved from danger, both seen and unseen, and though many may fall around you, upon the right and upon the left, in the front and in the rear, God will preserve your life, for your days are numbered and your years shall never be counted less. Whether by land or by sea your Guardian Angel shall watch over you, and your life and liberty shall be precious in His sight."

Later he wrote the following account:

"They opened up a heavy barrage on our lines. The second shell struck in the line I was in - just a couple of feet from me. The flash was terrible. The pieces flew, but (to my safety) they struck the men just in front of me. A piece, that seemed more like the whir a bayonet would make as it flew through the air than a piece of shrapnel, flew just past my ear. The concussion was so terrible it blew us backward. When I began to turn I noticed I was on my back and my pal, Bolam, was on top of me. I said to him, "Are you hurt, Bolam?" He answered, "I don't know, but I am bleeding." I began to feel around to see if my feet and legs were on. I must have been numb for so long, because Bolam and I (in fact everyone who could) moved forward. I had to step and jump over the men that shell had killed and wounded.  My, it was awful. I learned that it killed or wounded fifteen of my company pals."

This is a small sample of many pages he wrote, describing similar battles, when he witnessed the death of those around him, and yet his own life was preserved.

Other memorable parts of his war journal include stories about later responsibilities he had, to sensor and deliver the mail (he received this assignment after having a foot problem).  These stories make me smile:

"Talking about the Christmas boxes that were coming in from home - one day three large bags of mail came in loaded with nothing but boxes of candy, etc. As Bolam and I took boxes from the top of one of them we ran across a few pieces of butterscotch. Bolam said that was just the kind he liked. All the way along there were stray pieces, so we ate them. Bolam said the fellow whose box that is will surely miss it. When we came to the bottom of the bag there was the broken box. As Bol lifted it he exclaimed, "It's mine!" Well, I just rolled and laughed, but it was no laughing matter to him.

Finally in March 1919, we left St. Georges. But the night before, I had to get rid of a package I had saved. It belonged to a Danish sailor who had been drafted in Seattle but had not wanted to remain with us. He had protested. His papers had been a long time getting through. He trained with us in Camp Lewis. He went across with us and remained until just before we went into the front. He had all his civilian clothes in a sack hoping to get his release and use them. His release came after he had stored his clothes. So he had gone to Denmark, and I had his clothes with no address.  Before [I left France], Bolam and I took the [Danish sailor's clothes to the] old man Provost [a Frenchman we had come to know], and dressed him up from head to foot - hat, shoes, collar, tie and all.  It was surely funny to see the old lady [the French man's wife] dance around him. We had a lot of fun for an hour, then I told the old man they were his. You have never seen anyone so happy in your life. That was the best outfit he had ever owned."

Finally, he wrote this about his return home:

"I remembered a letter Libbie had sent to me after I had arrived in France. She said when I was in New York, she dreamed I was to sail on July 12th. That was the exact day I stepped on the Olympic for France. Now I wondered if the same spirit would warn her of my sailing for home.

...It wasn't long in coming and our wives were in our arms. I don't believe any but those who were in the thick of the fight, as we two were, can quite appreciate the thrill of seeing those one loves again."

As part of this Memorial Day weekend, I pay tribute to my grandfather, my father, my son, and all other men and women who have given, or continue to give their lives; for honor, for their families, and for freedom.  And I remember with appreciation, those who wait at home for their return.

Listening Ear - Poem

Listening Ear

 

Cell phone conversation

     voice crystal-clear, presence so near

Desired companion

     shared affection, advice welcome

Moment of laughter

     sometimes tears, always seeking a listening ear

Tiny device

     instantly heard, easily answered across the world

Awake or asleep

     these two, ever linked

Someone else listens

     less than phone call away

Superior technology

     simply kneel…and pray

Janice Harten

Sept 24, 2008

Copyright © 2012 Janice Harten.  All rights reserved.

Expression of Love

Last night, as my husband and I drove toward the Bountiful Temple, I turned and thanked him for being interested in my deepest thoughts, and for listening to me.  I was remembering why I was so attracted to him when we were first dating.  I felt he cared about who I was and what I thought.  He sought my opinion and ideas.  We had long discussions.  At first I was unpracticed in how to share my thoughts and feelings (and I'm still learning), and I listened to his many ideas.  But, my trust and confidence grew more over time, as he invited and wanted to know how I felt. And I felt completely safe sharing my most personal secrets and desires, without feeling judgement or emotional withdrawal from him.  And he appeared to sincerely respect and value my opinion.  He met a deep hunger in me as we emotionally connected.  This was the greatest gift of love he could have shown me.

In the temple, as the evening continued, I gained additional understanding about myself and others, as it relates to this experience.  I thought about growing up as a middle child in a large family.  I hungered to be acknowledged and struggled to have my opinion heard.  I sometimes withdrew emotionally rather than feel disappointment at not being heard or not having my opinion trusted.  I simply did the easier thing, and caved in to the needs of others.  Now, looking back, I realize that their needs were just as great as mine.  And perhaps they also struggled to be heard.  It is a basic need in everyone to be acknowledged and understood.

Then my thoughts turned to my children.  I remembered, with appreciation, how personally touched I have felt, by conversations we shared.  Each has sought out my opinion or advice, at times, and even when I felt inadequate in my answers, they still seem to value and appreciate what I have to say.  I have felt awed and touched by their level of trust in me, by their deep emotions and profound insights.  I have felt mutually uplifted and helped by their comments and feelings.  I treasure the adult friendship blossoming between us.  Before marriage, I had not imagined that I would be given such meaningful relationships with my children.

I realize, however, that I have not created meaningful relationships, or experienced these moments, as deeply as I desire, with all those I love.  I realize that I have withheld myself emotionally, or felt judgmental, not knowing how to relate or respond to different opinions and feelings.  I lack listening and emotional skills, and I am still coping by sometimes withdrawing.  I feel inadequate, and yet, I wonder if the very relationships I desire will grow from my sharing those inadequacies.  It comes back to a question of trust.  Am I willing to take a chance on having my feelings misunderstood, in the hope of being allowed to see into someone else's heart?  I seek guidance in establishing the right boundaries and openness.

Another, additionally profound realization entered my mind.  Even as I strive to be heard and build caring relationships with others, I have an opportunity to have the most personal and loving relationship with my Father in Heaven.  I realized how much I have neglected to spend time with him, telling him all the feelings in my heart and of my desires, and listening.  He is there 24 hours a day, and even if all my other relationships were void of these emotional connections, the one with my Father in Heaven is always there and available to me.  And my relationship to him is essential to the creation and maintenance of any other relationship, because he is the source of all love.

I find it to be both interesting and personally meaningful, that in my Patriarchal Blessing, the Lord councils me to, "Keep close to your Heavenly Father, pray daily, and approach Him regarding small decisions, as well as greater, and He will direct your paths."  There are an additional five more references to my prayers and receiving revelation from him, throughout the blessing.  I think he was trying to build my confidence and remove any question in my mind that he wanted to have a personal relationship with me.  The Lord has known the very words I needed to hear and just how to nurture me.

The one-line statement of understanding I have come away with, from all of this, is:

Sharing and listening with your heart and seeking to understand another person's thoughts and feelings, is a profound expression of love; whether it is a relationship with the Lord, a husband, child, extended family, or even a stranger.

I long to develop and grow in this area.

Consider - Poem

Consider -

Consider 5000 fed

With

Blessed fish and bread

Remember

Small breakfast spread

With bowed head

Janice Harten

Jan 20, 2011
Copyright © 2012 Janice Harten.  All rights reserved.

Honey locust Trees - Pruning

We have two, large, honey locust trees in our front yard.  Over the years, some of the limbs have grown so long, they touched the roof of our car when we pulled onto the driveway.  And the mass of limbs and leaves was so thick, the front lawn was covered in total shade.  While the coolness and shade they provide is desirable in the middle of hot summer days, it was beginning to appear a little dark and cocoonish.  Kind of like a child with unruly hair, so long, it covers his eyes.

We hired a skilled worker and his two assistants, who spent several hours climbing, thinning and cutting limbs.  When they were done, I was surprised to discover, the trees literally stood several feet higher, with the weight of so many branches removed.  And the coveted shade was still ample to temper the suns heat; but now small patches of light could filter through the leaves, and pool onto the grass below in an interesting patchwork.  The leafy canopy swayed gently in the wind overhead.  I imagined I felt the trees sigh with relief.  And I sat on the porch swing, enjoying a new view of the trees and the mountains beyond.

An obvious analogy entered my mind.  Throughout life we carry the weight of many burdens, brought on by sin or simply as a condition of our existence in this mortal world.  And, just as the trees were not able to trim their own branches, we need our Savior, who is the master pruner, to remove this dead weight and discard it for us.  When this happens, we are literally lifted higher, and we can sigh with relief.  And the world around us also appears brighter and more beautiful.

Sentry - Poem, A Tribute to Mothers

             Sentry

A Sentry assigned to a battle outpost

   Watches guard against enemy attack

Rifle readied, eyes steadily searching

   Not allowing his attention to slack

Special goggles enhance nighttime vision

   Distant shadows no longer hidden

Bright warning flares and radio ready

   Should any harm or danger threaten

Men in tents behind him lay sleeping

   Feeling safe in the dark night sky

Taking for granted the care given

   By the silent sentry standing by

Likewise, a Mother stands watching

   Seeming still, as the world rushes by

Her attention focused and unshaken

   Guarding loved ones under Heaven’s sky

Her spiritual vision pierces the darkness

   So friend and foe can be easily seen

Her warning voice clear and unmistaken

   Reveals where traps and dangers might be

Standing upon no imaginary battlefield

   With diligence, a sanctuary she builds

Where love, peace, security and safety

   Will forever, by those present, be felt

               By Janice Harten
   Copyright © 2012 Janice Harten.  All rights reserved.

Today's Garden - Poem and Pictures

Today was a wonderful gift, time with my family in the garden.  I couldn't resist including a few pictures of some of my children and grandchildren.  We'll see how long they stay up on the website.

Today’s Garden

Peas, beans

Rows and rows

Zucchini, carrots

And tomatoes

Sunburnt nose

Dirty toes

That’s how family

Memories grow

Janice Harten

May 12, 2012
Copyright © 2012 Janice Harten.  All rights reserved.

Plotting out the garden on the computer.

Vision - Poem

Vision -

With multitudes following, Jesus of Nazareth was heard passing by

   When nigh unto Jericho, a certain blind man sat by the way side

And cried, “Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me”

   The nearby crowd rebuked this man of faith, who could not see

Then, he called, more loudly, “Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me”

   Bringing him close, Jesus asked, “What wilt thou that I shall do unto thee?”

“Lord, that I may receive my sight,” was his fervent plea

   Christ commanded, “Receive thy sight, thy faith hath saved thee.”

Being a disciple among growing throngs that continue to follow him

   I wonder how my voice is heard, among many who worship him?

Calling from quiet, hidden places, I plead for the blessings I need

   And feel Him beckon and question, “What wilt thou that I shall do unto Thee?”

Discovering the gift to personal relationship, within closet and private prayer

   When I faithfully call out, he turns about, and looks at my need and despair

My hungering cry, his precious lamb, he listens, directs and feeds

   My vision heals and I behold, his individual love and tender mercy

By Janice Harten

Jul 27, 2007

Luke 18
Copyright © 2012 Janice Harten.  All rights reserved.

Steady She Goes - Personal Therapy 101

Personal Therapy 101
I believe everyone has either experienced depression first hand, or knows someone close to them who suffers with it.  Depression is one of the most difficult and deadly foes.  It attacks from within, and can be caused by many different sources.  I have observed it as a result of grief, or natural causes through an imbalance of hormones and other physical imperfections, or self inflicted through destructive decisions and magnified through self-medication and chemical abuse.  It's stealth entrance often goes undiagnosed or unrecognized for a long time, until it has often caused serious damage.

The person suffering from this malady becomes self absorbed in their own failure to see and cope with life in a happy and productive way.  Instead, all joy leaves and is replaced by feelings of hopelessness, failure and abandonment.  No amount of outside comfort seems to change these feelings of despair.  And the other victims of this affliction, those who are at the mercy of someone's anger, unreasonable demands, destructive behavior or withdrawal, are tempted to feel responsible for the behavior of their loved one, and face their own decisions to withdraw or retaliate out of self preservation and protection.

"Steady she goes," is a powerful concept, that I have focused on when my challenges surface.  The phrase is a term taken from those who have faced storms at sea.  "Steady she goes," enables a ship to stay upright and on course.  Knowledge about the purpose of opposition is key to accepting it's difficulties and riding through them, with patience and understanding.  Recognizing the real enemy is essential, and allows one to remain calm in the face of destructive winds and waves.  Seeking inspiration and strength from God, is essential in the search for answers and the power to endure.

My own experience has taught me that the answers come from the Lord, in a myriad of ways.  Sometimes he chooses to heal us immediately and completely.  Sometimes answers come through our individual, prayerful search and inspired thoughts and actions; or sometimes answers come through others, through medication, counseling or simple listening, compassion and understanding.  But, when we enlist the power of heaven, there is always, eventual change and hope.  Christ is the source of ALL hope, truth and light.  He has power to heal the sick and comfort the weary.  He has experienced the depths of depression, and the pain of all our afflictions.  In the end, he will remove all pain and heal all wounds, and restore us to a state of health, happiness and joy.  If we endure with patience (continued faith in the power of God to save us), and act in faith upon the answers we receive, we will gain the strength to carry our burdens and eventually experience his healing power.

Dreams Journey - Poem

Dreams Journey

Dreams journey

One magical night

Fingertip to fingertip

You lift me in flight

N'er a whisper

Nor a care

Floating softly

Through the air

Ever safe

Side by side

Visions dream

Oceans wide

Janice Harten

Oct 18, 2010

Copyright © 2012 Janice Harten.  All rights reserved.

Flying - Dreams Come True

Bill piloting plane

My husband is taking flight lessons.  When his mother passed away last year, he chose to celebrate her life by doing something that would bring him joy, with the money she left him.  Although this is a beautiful sentiment, I have to admit, I was not happy about his decision, because it was one of the few choices he has made completely without my input.   And because this involved some risk and demanded a large amount of time and money, I moped for several months.  Then Bill hit a snag while trying to meet all the FAA health requirements.  However, after a few frustrating months of meeting their qualifications, he finally passed and is back in the pilot seat.

Bountiful Temple in the distance

For Bill's birthday this spring, he asked for only one thing.  He wanted to take me on his first cross country training flight.  I agreed it would be fun to do, and so, he talked with an instructor and set a date.  He spent all day Saturday, preparing his first flight plan.  Upon arriving at the small airport nearby, his instructor patiently spent the next hour revising and teaching him how to correctly plot his flight, using manual rulers and instruments and weather updates.  It was mildly interesting, to the extent I could understand what they were saying, and increasingly intimidating.  I realized I was back in Math class, but I wasn't doing so well.

Sunset over Antelope Island

However, then things became more interesting, as we approached the plane.  Bill went through a thorough and detailed check of the Cessna single engine airplane, and then we climbed on board.  I sat in the back seat and we put on our headphones.  After taxiing and communicating over the radio, we were finally airborne.  And to our delight, we discovered a breathtaking sunset over the lake to our left, with a full moon rising over the Wasatch Mountains on our right.  And, on this night, the moon was unusually large, called a "Super Moon", because of it's closer proximity to the earth.  The ground was covered with the calm colors of early evening and the light shown off the water ponds below.  I was kicking myself for forgetting to bring my camera to capture it all.  I snapped a few, very inadequate pictures with my cell phone.

Moon rising over the Wasatch Front

I tried to remain quiet, so Bill could concentrate on what seemed like a thousand little things happening all at once.  I noticed his instructor's totally calm demeanor.  I decided either he was gifted, to subject himself to flights with student pilots, or crazy.  I was impressed with Bill's ability to send and interpret radio calls of other aircraft and airports we passed, while changing course or ascending and descending to different altitudes, on our way to a small airport in Logan.  I felt a little tense as he circled and prepared for landing, but he succeeded in flying a smooth touch and go, and pulled back into the air for our return trip, this time through Sardine Canyon.  It was exciting to see the mountains up close and recognize the roads we normally travel in the car.

In previous years, Bill shared some of his nighttime dreams with me, where he would fly and hover over things.  I felt sad that I had not had similar experiences in my sleep.  Then, one night, I dreamed Bill took me flying with him.  It was like in the Superman movies.  We flew side by side, with our finger tips touching.  I knew if I let go I would fall, but as long as I was touching him, I was safe.  It was a beautiful and sweet experience for me.  And I remember awakening and laying in bed, remembering the feelings I had during this dream together.  On that night, I shared the dream with Bill and thanked him for taking me flying.

And, now, here we were, literally soaring together in the air, on this beautiful night.

Some dreams come true.

Hammer and Chisel - Poem

Hammer and Chisel

Hammer and Chisel

Pound -

‘Til stone finely ground

Powdery dust

Blown

Softly around

No more

To keep me apart

From my Maker’s heart

Janice Harten

Nov 8, 2011

Copyright © 2012 Janice Harten.  All rights reserved.

 

Prose - Poem

My son recently asked me how I write my poetry.  I tried to describe the illusively thoughtful, and occasionally direct process.  I showed him some of my scribbles of ideas and how I play with the images of words.  The discovery of a new poem is like a detective on the hunt for a clue, which is most often right in front of his nose, but camouflaged or hidden from normal sight.  It's a delightfully difficult, but satisfying adventure.  The following poem describes itself.

Prose

Patient prose

Hiding among mind’s willows

Slipping, sliding, gliding

Gentle chase

Game of hide and seek

Conscience’s rare peek

Janice Harten

Jan 12, 2011
Copyright © 2012 Janice Harten.  All rights reserved.

He took on the world.

My mother-in-law once told me how blessed she was because her husband provided and took care of her.  She used these words, "He took on the world for me."  She described how he stood between her and so much of the ugliness and coarseness in the world.  He stood as a filter to protect and defend her and the children, from those who were fowl or who would destroy or challenge virtue and faith.  He labored day and night for her comfort and protection, and shielded her from some of the more difficult and even despicable elements of society.  In this more protected world, she could nurture happiness and love, and  she could believe in the goodness of our divine nature.  This does not mean she was naive.  Rather, she was keenly aware and on guard against the evils that sought to inflict her family.  However, this protected environment allowed her to maintain feminine strengths and a vision for her family from the inside, while her husband built the walls surrounding them.

Her early teaching caused me to appreciate my husband, and his efforts to protect and strengthen me and our children.  I see him struggle against the powers that appear, at times, to be completely overwhelming.  I am amazed at his endurance and I know he is often taken to his very limits, wrestling with the demands and nature of the world.  The world does not allow for tenderness and compassion.  It demands efficiency, and the bottom dollar.  It does not welcome new ideas and offer resources freely; instead it demands conformity and more time than is humanly possible to give.  I witness the battle, and participate from my position behind the lines, sustaining and helping reload our weapons of faith and endurance.  And I pray every day, that together, we can destroy the evils that attempt and sometimes manage to penetrate our walls.

I thank the Lord, that even as my husband pulls on his armor every day, and steps in front of me, to deflect the worst of life's arrows, he still has a loving and tender heart, and seeks to find a way to make me smile.  He is my true hero, and I love him.