Monthly Archives: February 2013

50th Anniversary


Good Salt - what happened to your hand       


We’ve had a good life together, haven’t we?

You loved me first.

For a long time, I didn’t notice You.

 I eagerly received the little unexpected favors You gave.

I would not, though accept Your extravagant gift of love.

 That gift, I knew, had cost You dearly.

Each time You held it out to me.

 I saw the price tag in Your hands.

Do You remember the first day I finally approached You?  I was so nervous.

Some had said, “This is the One you need. You’ll find happiness.”

Others said, “Stay away from this One. You’ll lose your freedom.”

Eventually, though, I took the risk.

I took Your love,

Your hand.

I intended to keep the relationship casual.

 I would limit our meeting to once a week,

Talk to You when no one else would listen,

Never bother You with trivial matters,

Never involve You in my personal world.

You had your work, I had mine.

We would be friends, but our lives and worlds would never blend.

That day seems so long ago, yet the memories are as clear, as if it were yesterday.

We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?

We’ve had good days and bad days, but even the bad days were good.

On days when I couldn’t see Your face,

Or hear Your voice,

Or feel Your nearness,

 I realized how much I loved You

How much I needed You.

It’s been good ‑ this walk together.

Have I grown to understand You completely?

No, but I know a lot more about You than before.

I know I can trust You.

I know that You are a faithful friend.

And I realize that You understand me,

Even more than I understand myself.

Yes, I’m glad I took the risk,

 Glad I took Your love,

Glad I took Your hand.

                                                            Martha VanCise  ©2013

Image Credit:

Name That Star


star 1


Does anyone see me?

One solitary being in this crowded mass?

Does anyone notice me or even know that I exist?

Am I a product of a loving creator,

Or am I just a fragment spun from two colliding ancestors?

If I faded and died, would anyone notice my absence?

Would anyone remember that I ever existed?


Super stars surround me.

Some come and go with the seasons.

When they make their bright, brief appearances,

I hear the “ooh’s” and “aah’s” of the observers.

I wait breathlessly, hoping to hear recognition,

But each watcher’s gaze slides over me to another.

They never call my name.


Does anyone see ME?

Will anyone ever say

“Look, at that faint one,

very hard to see,

but always there,

always shining her best,

doing her part to light

that patch of darkness.”


It seems that no one will ever see me.

No one will ever notice that I keep my light on high,

No one will ever know that I make this dark gap bright.


YOU what?

YOU see ME?

YOU even know my name?


“He determines the number of the stars and and calls them each by name.” (Psalm 147:4 NIV)

©Martha VanCise 2013

The Road

Sorata-Photo-00_jpg  Over the years, multitudes had followed the road out of the lowlands, up the steep grades onto the bleak plateau. There, the travelers had rested, then settled and lived out their lives. Only a few had braved the forbidding mountains. Those few, though, had described the exertion as “trivial, unworthy of comparison” with the spectacular panorama they viewed from the high lookouts. Some of these mountain climbers had passed through my life, carrying with them a whiff of the heavenlies, an enviable aura of spiritual strength. But these saints had also related accounts of great conflict and carried battle scars. Continue reading