What in the world am I doing!

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Ok, it’s time to take the plunge and do something I’ve wanted to do for years but been too afraid to try.  There are many things that can be intimidating, but one biggie for me is letting people see some of the things I’ve written or created.  However, that’s not entirely true all of the time. It seems when I meet someone and I feel a common kindred spirit there is a need to share deeper sides of me, if I feel it will help them in their brokenness.  I have met more than a few really broken people.

A precious friend once prayed over me saying, “Dear God, please break her heart so you can make it new.”  When I asked why she would pray such a thing she replied, “If you don’t know you are broken, He can’t fix you.”  Much of what you will find here comes from my brokenness or that of someone I have known or loved.

This is all new to me so there may not be any rhyme or reason to the order of these posts; it may just be as I find courage to share my work.  My goal is not to just posterize my poetry  or stories, but to try to tell the story behind them; to tell you why or how I came to write a given work.  Hopefully you won’t be too bored and maybe you will even laugh or cry with me.

To date I have been published in an anthology called “Seasons To Come”, a compilation of winning entrants of a poetry contest produced by The National Library of Poetry.  I think I’ll save that one for a while.

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Little Mothers and Then . . .

When we were little, our dolls we dressed.
Each of our “Babies” we knew were the “best.”
As we grew older our dollies did too.
There was “Ginny” and “Betsey” and “Barbie” in blue.
There were “Cathys” that chatted and Ballerinas that posed,
And all of them wore the prettiest clothes.
What became of them? Who really knows?
My sister found a “Kroger Doll,” the one with brown hair.
She quickly bought her and photos did share!

Long since our dollies, real babies we had.
When they grew up, we sometimes were sad.
We learned first-hand the meaning of life,
How much our Moms loved us amid all of the strife.
God blessed us with grandparents who, everyday,
Would get on their knees and for us they would pray.
One by one, we gave our hearts to our King,
Jesus, our Savior, and now our hearts sing!

I’m so thankful for friends and family like ours.
Because we know Jesus, He’s healing our scars.
The older we get, the wiser we grow.
And I’m old enough to most assuredly know . . .
Wherever we live, no matter how far,
I wish you love, wherever you are!
Copyright 5/7/2003 Kat (Ryan) Kidder

Aug 31, 2013 – Getting Granny’s Goat!

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What people are saying:

“In a word: amazing! You made me smile; you made me sigh; you made me laugh; you made me cry. It struck all the emotions and did so with delight and joy. You have a remarkable talent for capturing the reader’s senses. “Getting Granny’s Goat” has been placed in a binder and resides on, what I refer to as, my inspirational bookshelf.”

–Deborah Dee Hoffmann, http://www.ddhconsulting.biz

~~~

Getting Granny’s Goat is a charming yet believable story that will delight and surprise young readers.”

Angela Hoke, author of A Whisper of Smoke

Then Came The Question

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If I dream, what may I dream?

If I write, what may I write?

If I love, whom may I love?

If I fight, what may I fight?

My heart and my head held a great debate.

Each studied their points to expound.

Carefully they took note of what each other wrote,

Then sat they down to toss it around.

My heart presented the question of dreams,

              My head suggested I replace them with schemes.

“No,” said my heart.  “Would you kill your soul?

              On dreams you can soar, to search out your mind,

              To see to what heights your imagination can climb.”

“No,” said my heart.  “Dreams are an essential part of the whole.”

“See here!” said my head.  “With schemes you can plan.

              You’ll know where you’re going, because you can see where you’ve been.

              With schemes you never lose sight of the goal.”

“No,” said my head.  “Schemes are the essential part of the whole!”

Then came the question of “what may I write?”

My head jumped in first with power and might!

              “You write what will serve you, that which will bring you great wealth and great fame!”

My heart sadly winced, and announced with great pain,

              “I’m sorry to say we share the same name!”

              “No,” said my heart.  “You write what you feel, and with your pen you take aim.

              The well written word can help win the fight,

              But great wealth and great fame won’t make it right.”

Conviction and shame pierced the pride in my head,

The power of Love took over instead.

The question of “whom” was answered by Grace,

With mercy and blessing, it He let it flow from heart’s place.

As for the “fight”, the battle’s been won

All that remains is to honor the Son.

- Copyright 2013 by Kathleen J Kidder

How Do You See Me Now?

Well, am I being a pain yet? or do you just find me a terrible person after seeing my blog?  Remember I am one of the many Christ died for so he could deliver me from those years. and my sin.

“Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in mercy; break up your fallow ground: for it is time to seek the Lord, till he come and rain righteousness upon you.”

Hosea 10:12

Beautiful verse and so powerful.  It is sad how many lives are damaged by lack of knowledge of God’s holy word.  It is my hope that you will discern that while I was the woman at the well (in some ways), it is even more important that a changed life looks very different.  We serve no one by hiding in our past, but we give others hope who might be struggling with emotions and circumstances similar to ours; they need to know how amazing our God is that he can deliver us from our past that holds us captive.

He calls us to love one another in the purest manner – as Christ loved us and to forgive one another as God forgives us; not only for what they have done to us, but for what we may feel about how they lived their lives.  The latter actually falls under the category of judging.  It is only through seeking The Lord that we come to know the full depth of His grace.

The shedding of our Savior’s blood, His resurrection and His intercession covers my past and secures my future. Therefore, if I would quote scripture based on what I might think about someone’s written word, the love of God would be better served quoting the words “written in red”.

Consider: Luke 6:37 King James Version (KJV)

37 Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven . . .  

To God be the glory!  I am grateful for the love He gives me and for the love Christ gives me for you.

KJKidder

Fourth Day Thoughts

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Several years ago . . . over a very profound three-day weekend . . . my understanding of LOVE was intensely sharpened, expanded and nurtured . . . even more so was my faith challenged. 

While purging some old files I came across the following thoughts I had jotted down early in the morning of the last day of that weekend.  They hold as true today as they did that moment . . .

 

How do I hold on to these precious, intimate moments with you Lord?  This weekend has been a gift from you that I can’t find words to hold.

There are no words sufficient to wrap the gift of Spirit Love you covered me with this weekend.  Finally, I have a baby concept of what this “Fourth Day” thing means.

Three days! Three critical, pain-filled, hope-filled and joy-filled days!  Christ lived them – God blessed them – the Holy Spirit sealed them in my heart.

Now comes the “Fourth Day”, the forever day . . .

How I live it determines how God will use me.  He would that I live it in piety, in holiness, consecrated to serving Him.

He allows that I live it by choice and when I choose to live according to His plan for me and by His commandment, (i.e. that I love my God with all my heart and all my soul and all my mind, loving my neighbor as myself) it glorifies Him, pleases Him, exalts Him and there is joy

When I live my life choosing, purposing, desiring Christ as my hope always, the ‘sometimes’ pain pales against the joy-filled moments in His Love.

Therefore, if I live my “Fourth Day” in this manner, I will be looking for open doors and hungry hearts to share this joyous gift with . . . to share with them the Gospel, The Good News, the Greatest Gift of All, Redemption, Regeneration, and Remembrance. 

Thank you Jesus for paying my sin debt – thank you for the three days you spent tying the bow on my Gift so that as you opened my eyes and prepared my heart to receive it, my “Fourth Day” would be forever with you!

Kathleen Kidder, Daughter of the King ©2008

GRANDMA

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Soothing hands
A loving touch
Soft words whisper
Child . . . I love you much”

Missionary Men
Their stories read
God’s love poured out
At the side of a bed

“Little Ones”
With eyes of wonder
As Grandma weaves pictures
Of Heaven and under

Graceful hands folded
Humble head bowed
Grandma gives thanks
For all He’s allowed

Wisely teaching
Forgiveness and Love
Grandmas, we know
Are sent from above

©Kat Ryan, 2/20/94

SEDUCTION EXPOSED

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Cupid’s Day approaches,

Like some monolithic symbol on the “Sea of Love.”

Lover’s old and new find anxiety ten-fold over.

Commercial “Sex Brokers” at every turn, peddling gifts

Of romantic nature to seduce the hungry innocent

And cater to a generation of those libido driven.

They call it “LOVE,” but seldom is it found.

Lonely people . . . wandering through empty places in their psyche,

Clutching memories,

Clad in frustration, stifled voices from within . . .

Longing to let another know.

Filled with despair . . . feelings and passions rising

To choke off all available air.

Fear of rejection, impending exposure, possible risk,

Tension mounting, heartbeats too fast for counting.

Unspoken promise of ecstasy waiting.

People alone, RUN . . . Hide from the shame!

If you’re not having sex, you’re not in the game!

So maybe I’ll sleep . . . Alone!

©Kat Ryan,   2/11/92

FREEDOM — REALLY!

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Freedom awaits my courage to try

To boldly break free from society’s lie.

Vision to see through the veil of seduction.

Armor to shield me from would-be destruction.

Wisdom of Sages, the power of Kings

Are mine to attain if I’ll just spread my wings.

The world lay before me bound in Poverty’s chains,

While the rich wait; like vultures for dying remains.

Working class stripped of their hopes and their dreams.

Money mad moguls wield their reality of schemes.

It’s time to wear sackcloth, Democracy ‘s dead.

Truth like a beacon to guide me instead.

Election campaigns spread lies to the masses.

Shades of the death camps . . . All that’s missing are gases.

copyright – 1/27/92

PAPER IDENTITY

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A sterile gloved hand

Reaches in, to measure the readiness of

An expectant womb, ripe with life.

Sterile covered mouths

Shouting hurried commands above

A woman’s cries.

Tearful eyes, filled with strife.

Flesh and blood

Pulsing, moving, tension growing; suddenly . . .

A bloody showing.

The infant’s birth is imminent.

Now awaiting competent sterile hands to receive

A living, breathing tiny person

Into a sterile world that only worsens,

As evidenced by initial screams.

And the woman’s body,

Now wracked with pain, weakens.

‘Oh, sweet bliss of father’s kiss upon mother’s

Stretched-out skin, when baby safely slept within.’

Mother knew . . .

Who within her body grew.

The infant knew his mother’s voice,

Her moods, her touch . . . and she knew his.

No denial here existed.

No identity here was twisted.

Born this day a living person,

Whom society must now manipulate

With the many self-serving problems it creates.

Paperwork, medical and legal records;

The only ‘valid’ proof of nature’s efforts?

Proof of insurance gives clerks assurance

This identity is real,

Not one he did ‘steal.’

Imagine! Just imagine . . .

If all those documents disintegrated . . .

Would we all be ‘invalidated?’

Are we . . .

Nothing more than . . .

A ‘Paper Identity?”

©  Kat Ryan 1991

Here is the story behind Paper Identity

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