THERE ARE DAYS (For Mommy and Lisa)
There are days that I cry,
Days I still wonder why,
Days as lonely
And as dark as the night.
Moments I miss you so much
I am frozen in time.
Seconds when my breath catches in my throat
When the grief is so tangible it causes me to choke.
But in all of these seconds, moments and days,
One powerful truth is that God still remains:
My peace, my strength, my comfort, my friend,
And my reminder that I will see you again.
Patricia Middleton © Poetricia Publishing
Mommy left (6/7/1944-1/9/2022) Lisa right (3/12/2023-12/9/2022)
Pentecost Sunday 2021
Some years ago, I was asked to minister a poem for the last service of our annual Pentecostal Weekend Celebration. This was during a particularly dry season for me spiritually. I was filled with resentment, confusion and hurt over some serious church matters and I really didn’t know how to handle it. The pain and anger ran so deep that I did what some wounded sheep do. I retreated. Not from the church, but from God. My spirit went on autopilot and began going through the motions of worship and service unto the Lord and nobody knew the difference. Nobody but me. Nobody but God. The fact that leadership and peers seemingly couldn’t tell the difference only worsened my attitude and deepened the wedge between me and my deliverance.
Recently I read up on what sheep do when they face fear, hurt and danger. “¹When they are faced with danger, their natural instinct is to flee not fight. Their strategy is to use avoidance and rapid flight to avoid being eaten. A sheep that is by itself is vulnerable to attack.”
I was ripe for the devil’s pickings and didn’t even know it. I was blaming God for the wrongdoing of others and running from the very one who could console, comfort, heal me and show me what to do. But even in my rebellion, God reached out to me through the request to minister a poem that weekend. My heart remained hardened up to the very day of the service. I had made up my mind to just minister one of my old pieces, but the Holy Ghost just wouldn’t let me be. After morning service, I left to go get something to eat but never made it out of the parking space. I sat in my car weeping and pouring out my heart to God in repentance and despair. And as I did, He refilled me once again. As I came out of the spirit, I asked God which old poem should I minister and He answered “Tell them the truth.” I picked up my pen and this is what I wrote:
Poetricia Publishing © 2019
I took this selfie one year ago today in my doctor's waiting room.
Three days earlier while leaving church, I went to greet a sister when she said, "Don't hug me, I'm getting over something." In protest, I countered with, "Aww, come on Sis, it's okay, gimme a hug!" I should have listened to her, but as they say, "Hindsight is 20/20."
Twelve hours later, in the middle of the night, I was suddenly stricken with a dry hacking cough, a severe migraine, body aches, and a very high fever.
After feeling twice as bad the following night, that Wednesday morning, January 29th, I called my doctor and was given a 3:00 pm emergency appointment. When I arrived, I noticed that there were signs everywhere stating that if you have a fever, ask for a mask. When I told the receptionist my symptoms, she handed me a mask and asked me if I had been to China in past three weeks. I responded, "Unfortunately, no." (I've always wanted to go to China. Still do.)
I tested negative for the flu and strep throat (no other tests were being administered at the time). My doctor said I had a "viral infection" and that no antibiotics could be prescribed. He told me to “go home and let it run its course.” Go home? Let it run its course? Not only did I feel absolutely horrible, I was terrified. All of the symptoms lasted for a week, except for the cough, which remains to this day.
As the weeks and months passed by and the stay-at-home orders were put in place, the world (well, most of it) adapted to a new normal. I don't know if I had the coronavirus or not (apparently I'm now ineligible for the antibodies test), but with each Covid19 news briefing, as I prayed (and still pray) for the patients, their families, and those on the front lines, I am always reminded that, “There but for the grace of God, go I.”
Poetricia Publishing © 2021
If this year has taught us anything, it has taught us the principle of the phrase “stop and smell the roses.” A quick online search reveals that the exact quote came from The Walter Hagen Story, an autobiography published in 1956. The famous golfer’s full quote was, “You’re only here for a short visit. Don’t hurry, don’t worry. And be sure to smell the flowers along the way.” The passage was soon paraphrased to
“Stop and smell the roses.”
Despite the pandemic of Covid19, being quarantined, and adhering to the many social distancing practices, I have somehow managed to smell quite a few roses in 2020.
The first and most important rose I smelled this year was the health and safety of my family. Most of us adhered to the Stay-at-Home orders, but a few were essential and had to go to work every day. Two family members had to travel by public transportation, Ubers and car share services. One couple was diagnosed with a mild cases of Covid19, and one older person had to be admitted to ICU, but God covered and protected us all and we were able to celebrate this holiday season with joy.
Another rose I smelled this year was the fragrance of goals accomplished. Namely, the publication of my eighth and ninth book. FIFTY MINUTES OF GRACE is a testimonial that’s been in the making since 2015. IT IS WRITTEN is a collection of old poems I’ve been working on since the late 1990’s. Both books reinforced the biblical principle I learned with my first book, A TIME TO WRITE, and that is, “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1).
I also learned – and mastered – technology in 2020. I went from not knowing anything about Zoom, to using it every week (sometimes more than once). Teaching Sunday school classes to the young adults in my church; teaching writing classes for the local library; conducting poetry readings and author talks; and attending virtual family get togethers.
Now don’t get me wrong, 2020 also gave me quite a few “shook” moments. From the rapid global spread of Covid19, to the continued murders of innocent unarmed black men, to rioters looting and destroying innocent peoples businesses; to the more than 10 people that I knew personally who died from this horrible, horrible disease.
So although we have all been affected by in one way or another by this pandemic, like the golfer Walter Hagen six decades ago, as this year comes to an end, today I stop to smell the roses.
And they smell divine.
Poetricia Publishing © 2020
Today marks the 5th anniversary of God miraculously saving my life. I wonder if some people are tired of hearing me talk about it. I wonder if they wish I'd just shut up and "move on." But when you almost die and live to tell the story, then that's what you do: you live and tell the story. So, I am here to tell my story once again.
On Thursday May 14th, at approximately 5:45 pm I suddenly began experiencing shortness of breath. For the next 50 minutes, as I struggled to breath, I prayed, cried, sipped cold water, took my hair down, and loosened my clothes, but it was still a struggle to breathe. Finally at 6:35 pm I called my brother to pick me up from work (yes, I was still at work) and take me to the hospital. As soon as we arrived at the ER, I was given oxygen, an EKG, and several tests. At first they thought I'd had a mild heart attack because there was damage to the right side of my heart. But it was later confirmed that I was suffering from acute Bilateral Pulmonary Embolisms or, multiple blood clots in both lungs. Later that night I was admitted to a room on the Cardiac floor of Jefferson Hospital, connected to machines that beeped all night and specialists who visited all day. I stayed there for 5 days and 5 nights while my body was nursed back to health.
God has led me share this testimony in spoken word, here on this blog, and in testimonies in church.
Today, He has blessed me to share the full testimony, along with five others, in my newly released book titled "Fifty Minutes of Grace And Other Stories of God’s Undeserved Favor."
Click HERE to find out more.
Thank you for reading my blog. Don’t forget to leave a comment.
For information about Blood Clots click HERE
For information about my church click HERE
For information about Anthony Brown & Group TherAPy click HERE
For information about Ambassador Seed of Love Church click HERE
Poetricia Publishing © 2020
"I thank God for my every remembrance of you."
Memoirs With Seniors is the name of a program I instituted in 2016, but one that I thought of more than a decade before it actually came to fruition (2002). It is truly an example of that often-quoted scripture, “He will give you the desires of your heart.” First, God gave my heart what to desire, then He gave that desire to me.
MWS began with an invitation to a senior living facility through my Uncle shortly after the publication of my first book of poetry, A Time To Write. I was invited to conduct a poetry reading on Wednesday August 31, 2011 at Elm Terrace Gardens Retirement Community in Lansdale PA. Ever the poetic historian, to the surprise of several of the attendees, I mixed in some readings by Early American and Modern Poets like Helen Steiner Rice, Ben Burroughs, Maya Angelou, and Frances Ridley Havergal. The evening was a total success, but as much as I enjoyed reading poetry to the seniors that day, I was very hesitant to seek out another, closer facility, or even to contact that same facility again. Sure, since that night in Lansdale, I taught a poetry workshops at an elementary school, a recreation center, an arts center, and local churches in the Philadelphia and South Jersey area. But it would be another two years before I would find myself working with seniors again, this time by way of another invitation.
On March 6, 2013, I received an email from a close acquaintance of mine named Frank Falzone. At the time he was the Enrichment Coordinator at Yardley Commons Senior Living & Retirement Community in Voorhees, N.J. He was looking for programming ideas for the residents and invited me to conduct a book signing and lecture. I spoke on the topic My Life in Rhyme: Nine Writers Who Moved My Heart and Pen. Needless to say, the event was a success, and I was asked to come back on a quarterly then monthly basis. At the request of the Activities Manager, my presentations transitioned from poetry readings to a memoir writing class in June of 2016. That request not only resulted in three residents becoming published authors in a little over three years, it also became the launching pad for my next career move: becoming a freelance writing coach and publishing consultant.
This blog is not just a trip down memory lane, but a big “Thank You” to my Uncle Sonny and my friend Frank Falzone. God used both of you to help me achieve something that began as a dream back in 2002 when I left Verizon. Today I find joy in pouring over the manuscripts - mostly handwritten - of senior citizens who want to publish their memoirs. The thrill of helping them rekindle long forgotten memories, the pleasure of reading their stories, and the satisfaction of seeing those stories in print, is more fulfilling than I could ever have imagined.
I started Poetricia Publishing 10 years ago today, but I remember it like it was yesterday. I had just purchased a new car and had decided this time I wanted a personalized license plate. I can still see myself writing down variations of the word poet: Poet4Him, HisPoet, HisPen, Poetess, Poetress. Then I wrote my name next to the word poet and there it was: POETRICIA. How perfect. But one too many characters for a personalized license plate in the state of New Jersey. So, I put away the scraps of paper and life went on. That was April of 2006.
A few years later, in 2009, I had decided I was ready to publish my first book of poetry (A Time to Write). Prior to that decision, I’d done a lot of research on self publishing. When I was in the early stages of preparing my manuscript, I remembered reading that one step in self publishing included choosing a business name for your publishing company. Almost immediately POETRICIA came back to mind Poetricia Publishing was born.
Initially Poetricia Publishing would be the vehicle through which I would publish all the manuscripts I had been sitting on for the past 20 years. In my excitement I didn’t realize that my goal was “all about me”.
As time went on, my vision refocused and “specializing in publishing services for the Christian minded poet” became my focus. My goal became assisting other Christian poets in creating print ready manuscripts of inspirational poetry.
My journey sort of reminds me of Joseph and his dreams. In Genesis 37:5-11 we read of Joseph’s divine dreams. In the first dream he and his brothers were out in the field, tying up bundles of wheat when his bundle stood up and his brother’s bundles gathered around and bowed down to it. In the second dream the sun, moon and stars bowed down to him. Based on his father’s words we know that symbolically the bundles of wheat and the stars represented his brothers and the sun and moon represented his mother and father. Joseph’s dreams of greatness seemed to be all about him. He was 17 years old.
Many years later – after he was betrayed, falsely accused, imprisoned, set free, and had forgiven his brothers – those two dreams were fulfilled, and Joseph was promoted second in command over all the land of Egypt. He said to his brothers, “you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, in order to bring it about as it is this day, to save many people alive” (Genesis 50:20). Joseph realized it was not all about him. I did too.
Today my vision is even sharper. While a few unpublished manuscripts of my own remain on my to-do list, working as a freelance editor, writing coach, and publishing consultant has brought me so much joy. My company’s tagline sums it up like this: “I’ve written my vision. Let me help you write yours.”
Poetricia Publishing © 2019
As the Sunday school classes made their presentations this year, like many adults who were in attendance, I sat back smiling and taking it all in. Once I was even moved to tears. Our theme this year was WISE MEN STILL SEEK HIM from Matthew 2:1-12. After the fourth or fifth presentation, I noticed a reoccurring theme developing. Sort of theme within the theme. It was WORSHIP. After seeing “His star” - the proof that the King of the Jews had been born, wise men followed it from the East all the way to Jerusalem, with one intention only: to worship Him.
That revelation made me look up other events surrounding the birth of Jesus Christ in the scriptures. I was looking for more instances of worship, and I found them. Mary’s song of worship after receiving the prophecy of His birth (Luke 1:46-55); the sounds of worship by the multitude of angels as they announced His birth (Luke 2:13-14); and the shepherd’s acts of worship after witnessing and testifying about His birth (Luke 2:20).
All that happened before the wise men began following the star. But after Jesus was born, the scriptures said they saw His star, followed it to Jerusalem, and after a meeting with King Herod, they continued following the star until rested over the place where Jesus was. Historians say that by that time, Jesus was about two years old and scriptures bear proof of this in Matthew 2:11, referring to Jesus as a young child, not a baby, and the location where they were as a house and not a manger.
More often than not, the portrayal of the wise men is usually centered around the gifts they presented to Jesus: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And much has been written about the spiritual purpose behind each gift: gold - a symbol of kingship on earth, frankincense (an incense) - a symbol of deity, and myrrh (an embalming oil) - a symbol of death.
Whenever the wise men are portrayed - whether on Christmas cards, film, or figurines - they're either traveling on camels or standing in a nativity scene holding gifts to give their King. Very rarely are they portrayed bowed in worship -and few times they are, only one is bowed. The other two are standing nearby holding gifts. Some would say their giving was an expression of worship, but take another look at the scriptures.
When the wise men arrived in Jerusalem and stood before King Herod, they said, “We have come to worship Him.” When they arrived at the house where Jesus was, the bible says, “When they saw the young child, they fell down and worshipped Him”. The next verse begins, “Then, after opening their treasure chests, they presented gifts to Him.”
Although they did bring precious, costly gifts with them to present to the King, their first thought was to present themselves in worship Him. They followed the star from the East, through Jerusalem, all the way to Bethlehem for one purpose: to worship Him. Not to receive a blessing. Not for fortune or fame. Not for healing, long life, wisdom, or favor. But just to worship Him.
A subtle reminder to us that regardless of what gifts we have to offer Jesus, our primary reason for coming into His presence should be to worship Him.
Poetricia Publishing © 2018
Earlier today I was part of a panel discussion at an event called SAVE MY SISTER PART 2 sponsored by PATHWAY TO GREATNESS, a mentoring program for youth in Philadelphia founded and directed by Lavon Howard.
Women from all walks of life were invited to share with middle and high school girls on the topic "I OVERCAME."
Equipped with the diary from my teenage years and my memoirs on overcoming both domestic and dating violence, I headed out to the event. I focused on the difference between surviving something and overcoming it. Below is a summary of what was presented:
I remember it like it was yesterday. Being threatened in private and slapped in public. Being punched repeatedly because I said "No." The night I tried to fight back but gave up and ran all the way home (over a mile) - from 21st & Van Pelt to 32nd & Euclid Street. The time he came to my job at the phone center store, threatened me in front of my coworkers, and how the elderly security guard, Mr. Smitty, came to my defense. Being threatened with a knife when I tried to break up with him and being stalked and harassed when I finally did. It took my uncles and my father to make him finally leave me alone.
Thankfully my horror story ends there. But if not for God's grace and mercy, it would have been different. Though my heart was far from Him, God was watching over me, and protecting me even when I rejected Him. Is it any wonder I love Him so?
Years later, I realized that although I had survived dating violence, I had not overcome it. There were things I was still suffering as a result of that relationship. Inspired by God to write about my experiences, I published The Writing Was On The Wall (Recognizing The Warning Signs of Dating Violence). My mission is to spread awareness about dating violence by sharing resource & referral information, as well as my own story of survival through poetry readings, workshops, lectures, and one-on-ones.
If you are experiencing dating abuse text “loveis” to 77054,
or call the National Dating Abuse Helpline at (866) 331-9474
or (866) 331-8453 (TTY).
Don't forget about these organizations:
Women Against Abuse
Break the Cycle
Stop Abuse For Everyone
*I DIDN’T KNOW THE SIGNS
He was big and dark like a teddy bear
I fell for all his lines
I thought he really loved me
I didn’t know the signs.
He showered me with affection
I was wined and I was dined
Jewelry, trips and all types of gifts
I didn’t know the signs.
He was jealous of all my friends
He checked up on me all the time
I just thought he was a little possessive
I didn’t know the signs.
The first time that he hit me
He quickly apologized
He even cried and his tears were real
I didn’t know the signs.
When I finally tried to break up with him
He threatened me with a knife
I really didn’t think he’d use it
I didn’t know the signs.
Next time around I’ll be careful
I’ll be patient and I’ll be wise
I’ll think with my head and not my heart
Because now I know the signs.
Poetricia Publishing © 2018
When I was asked to write something on the topic of redemption I readily agreed, thinking I’d write something quickly and be done with it. Much like we prepare for a workshop, I began with looking up all the definitions of redemption. The Archaic definition is “to buy the freedom of”. The Old French and Latin is “to buy back”. Listed among the more modern definitions is “to exchange (a coupon, voucher, or trading stamp) for merchandise, a discount, or money.
"In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace, which He made to abound toward us in all wisdom and prudence." Ephesians 1:7-8
Just about everyone understands the concept of coupons. From the ones you cut out of circulars to the ones you download online; from those that are 50% off, to the BOGO (buy one get one free) offers. Not to mention the Free/No Purchase Necessary ones (my favorite). No matter who we are, we all understand how coupons work.
"He has delivered us from the power of darkness and conveyed us into the kingdom of the Son of His love, in whom we have redemption through His blood the forgiveness of sins." Colossians 1:13-14
Over the days that followed I prayed and meditated on redemption until two weeks later when God showed me a ‘visual parable’, so to speak. In my mind’s eye, I could see Jesus limping into the world’s grocery store on His nail pierced feet, clutching at the gaping wound in His side, slowly reaching down on that sin filled shelf for me with His nail scarred hands, lifting His head, still fresh wounds from that thorny crown to say “I have a coupon for this soul – My shed blood.” He then picks me up and once I am in His arms, He carries me out of the store, covered, comforted, and clean.
"Looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ; who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works." Titus 2:13-14
A creative description yes, but one that stirred my soul. Sometimes we find ourselves in the position to share our testimony of redemption with a lost soul. I believe God sometimes shows us different way to fulfill the latter clause of Proverbs 11:30 which states “he that wins souls is wise.” As #5Wise Women, the coupon is one way to explain how we have been redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ. If God has given you a creative concept for redemption, please share below. We would all love to hear it.
“Forasmuch as ye know that ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, from your vain conversation received by tradition from your fathers; but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot:” 1 Peter 1:18-19
Poetricia Publishing © 2017
About This Blog
This blog is inspired by my first book, A Time To Write: Inspirational Poetry for All Seasons. Thank you for visiting!