Thank You, Jesus

Thank You, Jesus for giving me
a merry heart and a melody
a little work, a little fun
and warmth and love when the day is done.

Thank You, Jesus for all You do
to make my hopes and my dreams come true
in my heart You put a song
to cheer my life as I go along.

Thank You, Jesus for blessing  me
with all Your bounty so rich and free
a little rain, a little sun
to make our world such a lovely one.

Thank You, Jesus for Calvary
You climbed the hill in such agony
to pay the price for all our sin
now, You wait to welcome me in.

Thank You, for Your redeeming love
and promise of a home above
I love you now, I'll love you when
You take me home at my journey's end.

- Mary Louise Bloomer

Goin' Home (Grandpa's Song)

Goin' home.
I'm goin' home.
Goin' home today.
Jesus gently called while I was sleeping
and I could no longer stay.

I saw His face shinin'
and His hand, it beckoned me
so I held on tight
and I left this place
my Heavenly mansion soon to see.

I'll be with you in your memories
when the tulips bloom in the Spring
each time you taste raspberries
and when you hear the cardinal sing.

Just remember what I taught you
believe in Christ, our Lord 
and when it's time for you to come
I'll wait for you on distant shores.

Trust in God with all of your heart,
live for Him each day
and one day soon He'll come for you,
and then your heart can say,

"Goin' home. 
I'm goin' home.
I'm goin' home, today.
Jesus gently called, while I was sleeping
and now I live with Him each day!"

- T. Bent
05 June 1998

A Prayer Acrostic

                              Pray without ceasing, press on towards the goal
                    in Reverence to God, He cares for your soul
 Believe he will Answer the desires of your heart
                        Yearn to be closer, never to part
                        Expect Him to answer your prayers in His time
                  and Rest in Him always, He grants peace sublime.


- T. Deffely 
01 February 2010

The Epitaph

I was a Junior in High School in 1983 when our English teacher gave us an assignment to write our own epitaph.  As usual, it wasn't until the last possible minute that I got the inspiration to write mine.  I was pretty sure I did not truly satisfy the requirements of the assignment, but it was done and after I turned it in, I waited, dreading how bad my grade was going to be.  As it turns out, I received an A+ on it, which was mildly amusing to me given the fact that it wrote itself in about 15 minutes or so as I recall.  Since a good share of it is about music, I gave it to Mom to read who laughed so hard I thought she was going to fall over.  Now, I'm convinced it is not that funny and it is generally not my nature to talk about myself like this.  But since it was me who was supposed to be dead and therefore in need of an epitaph, it kind of needed to be about me.  Anyway, it is amusing enough that I would get a pretty good laugh if I were wandering around a cemetery and saw something like this on a grave marker.  On the other hand, I can't imagine the bill for putting something like this on a stone.  The reference to four-part harmony alludes to the fact that Mom, Val, Mel, and I all played together quite a bit which required Mom to arrange music for three trombones and one trumpet.  Not to mention the fact that Mom was definitely the most talented player out of all of us.  In addition, it is a great stretch of the definition of "play" when I wrote that I could play the piano.  The rest of it is true though.  After all, one shouldn't be lying on their epitaph.  If you do, the relatives, you know which ones, are going to rat you out and whether or not you are dead is going to be inconsequential to them.  But, I've digressed. The truth is, I probably joke around too much and I often laugh at things that weren't meant to be funny.  Oops.  That hasn't changed much in the 36 years since I wrote this.  My kids can testify to the fact that they have heard me say, "I can't stop laughing" almost as often as I have told them that I love them.  When I was younger I used to ponder the phrase "die laughing".  I used to wonder if it was possible to actually die laughing and somewhere along the line, I decided it wouldn't be a bad way to go. Without further delay, I offer "The Epitaph".

The Epitaph
(for Junior English)

Here lies the body of TMB,
I was the best of a four-part harmony.
Wherever I went people would say,
"Have you ever heard her play?"
I'd play my trumpet day and night,
playing practically every note right.
And though it was awesome
of course it was true,
that I could play the piano too.
Even while some said
it was only a rumor
most people knew it was true,
that I had a great sense of humor,
always good for a joke or two.
One day, I told a hilarious joke,
I laughed so hard I began to choke.
I never told another after that,
and that's why I needed this epitaph.
-T. Bloomer
19 December 1983

Grandpa's Legacy

Grandpa's Legacy

There is a place that Grandpa built

not made with bricks or stone.

It is a place he taught us about

that we could call our home.

From Grandpa's big, black Bible

came the story of a Man

who would build for us a Heavenly home

if we would follow His plan.

It didn't matter where we were

if we were far or near

the legacy that Grandpa left

made one thing very clear.

If we loved Jesus 

and followed His way,

He'd take us to Heaven 

to live with Him each day.

Grandpa lived his life this way

and prayed for his family everyday.

When he got sick his faith never failed

He told us Jesus' will would prevail.

Though he's left and gone home for now,

Grandpa's legacy still lives on

in the hearts of his family

the old and the young

for Grandpa was faithful to God's Son.

So know this today

that sorrow's ok.

It's part of God's plan too

and if we live the faith that Grandpa did

Christ's message will shine through.

And someday when we are walking

down the path Christ leads us on,

one day He'll call us to the home that lives

within the hearts of all God's kids.

The one not made from brick or stone

but of divine promises fulfilled

pledged to us from God's Son

which conveys the victory that Grandpa found.

Jesus promised if we love Him

someday He'll take us home

and if you live your life like Grandpa did

someday you'll see God's Son.

-T. Bent

06 June 1998

Iris in the Spring

It's been close to 23 years since Grandma Bloomer died.  My sisters and I were blessed to have grown up out in the country, just down the road from them.  We lived so close that we could walk out to the end of our yard and see if they were home.  Sometimes we waited with great anticipation for them to get home so we could run down and play with the puppies.  I mean visit Grandma and Grandpa.  If we were lucky, she would fix us one of her famous butter and brown sugar sandwiches; a snack that many of the grandkids still indulge in from time to time.  

It seemed like we spent as much time at Grandma's house as we did our own.  There was always something to do there that was much more exciting than anything going on at our house.  Grandma and  Grandpa used to "spy" on us with the binoculars that sat on the ledge of the bow window, next to their chairs they had facing our house.  Supposedly, the binocs were for bird watching.  However, that was somewhat questionable since they rather infamously called Mom during the blizzard of 1978 and ratted us out when we were sledding off the roof of the house.  As I recall, numerous calls started out, "Arlene, do you know what those kids are doing?" Usually when we were supposed to be doing something constructive such as weeding the garden or raking leaves. 

If our house was boring, we went to Grandma's.  If we decided it was hot outside, we would run down to Grandma's house and sit in front of the air conditioner only to require a blanket within minutes, because Grandpa always had it on the "cold enough to hang meat" setting. Grandma was not dense.  She knew we were just using her house to cool down and that ten minutes later we would be out the door with a butter and brown sugar sandwich until we deemed ourselves so sweaty we needed to visit her again.   

Holidays were always fun at Grandma's house until the family was too large to fit and then we moved them to our house.  The year that "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" was released, I played it for her and she laughed and made me play it for her again.  Then she told me she loved me and was happy that I shared that song with her.  It's a ridiculous song, but it made me happy that she thought it was funny too.  

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I knew we were lucky to live that close to our grandparents and I felt sorry for kids who did not know theirs very well.  

Sometimes we went to church with Grandma and Grandpa and every now and then they would come to ours for a special service or something.  I remember Grandpa putting the final touches on his Sunday School lessons and the image of him studying his big black leather Bible remains with me today.  

When I was older, I discovered that Grandma was a good listener.  She was sympathetic, empathetic, and had absolutely no problem telling me when she thought I was wrong in a firm, but loving way.  She had great biblical advice ready for any situation we were discussing and I used to wonder how she was able to do that.  I wanted to be just like her in that way.  To know Grandma was to know that Psalm 91 was her favorite of all the Psalms and over the years, I have often found great comfort in it as well. 

When I moved, I called her one day and told her I missed being able to look out my bedroom window and see the light on in their bay window.  When I was a kid, the last thing I did before I got in bed was look out the window and whisper good night to them.  There was comfort in knowing they were just up the road if we needed them.   

In later years, I enjoyed being able to help my grandparents get to doctor appointments or take Grandma to the grocery store or pharmacy.  Once we were running late, so we stopped at Kentucky Fried Chicken.  When we got home, she went in the back door, put the chicken in a pan, and put it in the oven.  Grandpa asked what was for dinner and when it was going to be ready and she told him "Soon".  I almost died laughing when she passed off Colonel Sanders' chicken as her own.  If Grandpa ever figured it out, he didn't say anything.  Grandma was an excellent cook so she could definitely have done chicken better than KY Fry anyway.    

Grandma has been gone for 23 years now.  She was in the ICU for seven or eight weeks before she rallied and was able to come home for a few weeks before she died in the house my Dad and Grandpa built.  The fact that she was able to come home at all was shocking to all of us, even though we were grateful to be able to spend a few weeks with her before she left for Heaven.  I believe that most of the grandkids were able to make it back home to visit with her in the weeks just prior to her death.  

One thing that Grandma was good at was making sure others knew she loved the Lord and that they could know Him too.  As for me, I am grateful that she took the time to direct me to Him during some very dark times in my life.  When she died, Grandpa said, "Teresy, your Grandma wasn't a very big lady, but there sure is a very big hole where she used to be."  Indeed, she did leave a huge empty space in all of our lives even while we are comforted by the knowledge that her journey has taken her to Heaven where she is securely face to face with her heavenly Father.  

Grandma had macular degeneration so I planted some rose bushes that bore fragrant flowers so I could share them with her.  I also planted stargazer lilies for the same reason.  She liked flowers that she could smell because she couldn't always see them very well, but their scent allowed her to enjoy them anyway.  She also loved peach cobbler and purple bearded iris.  I liked to bring her peach cobbler when I moved back to Utah Road, better known as "our road" when I was an adult.  The last Spring and Summer she was alive she missed the peaches and the iris and it made me sad.  Twenty-three years later, these things never fail to remind me of her whenever I see them.

I still miss her, but I  know I will see her again someday when we all get to Heaven.   

I wrote this poem the day Grandma died in August 1997 and we read it at her funeral.  

Iris in the Spring

(for Grandma)

Peach cobbler in the Summer,

the Iris in the Spring,

an angel food cake at Christmas

to celebrate the birthday of our King.

Good advice freely given,

solicited or not,

babysitter to many Grandchildren

when they were tiny tots.

She had a sympathetic ear

and ready hands to wipe our tears.

Wife, Mother, and Grandmother too

she became more precious with each passing year.

Grandma thought her kids were perfect

each one with their own special gift,

and her Grandkids knew 

she thought they were too

on a bad day, it could give you a lift.

But Grandpa was the special one,

the sunshine of her day,

"He was the only boy I ever loved!"

to me, she'd always proclaim.

And even when she could hardly see

she'd comb his beard so tenderly

and anyone watching them would know

they had what God wanted a marriage to be.

Grandma taught us all about God

by taking us to church.

Then she lived the lessons here at home

and told us if we asked His forgiveness,

someday we'd see Him on His heavenly throne.

Grandma missed the Iris this year,

the cobbler didn't taste the same.

But when she died

on her face was a smile

for she'd heard her Savior call her name.

And just before those left behind

had even shed a tear

Grandma heard the words of the Lord

whispered in her ear,

"Well done My good and faithful servant,

Your work on Earth is done.

Come see the place I built for you,

you've been faithful to my Son."

And when it's time for you to go

if you've lived the life that Grandma showed

with the Lord, you'll live eternally 

and together with Grandma

worship at Jesus' feet.  

- T. Bent

28 August 1997

"Baby's First Christmas"

(Grandma Bloomer's poem for Dad)

Hang up the baby's stocking
be sure you don't forget
for the dear little dimpled darling
has never seen Christmas yet.
But I told him all about it
and he opened his big eyes
I'm sure he understood it
he looked so funny and wise.
Dear me what a tiny stocking
it doesn't take much to hold
such nice little toes as baby's
away from the winter cold.
I know what I'll do for baby
I've thought of a very good plan.
I'll borrow a stocking
from Grandma
the longest one ever I can
and hang it here by Daddy's
right on the very front row
and tell old Santa to fill it
from the top clear down to the toes.

-Mary Louise Bloomer

(If this poem was written for my Dad's first Christmas, then it would have been written sometime in 1935)

Grandma Bloomer's poem (untitled)

I know you  have a burden
'cause everybody does
but what it is
that I don't know
is when it is or was.
But whether you have had it
or are waiting to begin it
I hope it is or was or will be
happy every minute