"But the Greatest of these..."

1 Corinthians: 1-13 (kjv)

1 If I speak with the tongues of men, and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.

2 And if I should have prophecy and should know all mysteries, and all knowledge, and if I should have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing.

3 And if I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor, and if I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing.

4 Love is patient, love is kind: love is envieth not, dealeth not perversely not; is not puffed up;

5 Is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil;

6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth;

7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

8 Love never falleth away: whether prophecies shall be made void, or tongues shall cease, or knowledge shall be destroyed.

9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.

10 But when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away.

11 When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But, when I became an adult, I put away the things of a child.

12 We see now through a glass in a dark manner; but then face to face. Now I know in part; but then I shall know even as I am known.

13 And now there remain faith, hope, and love, these three: but the greatest of these is love.

In God's Time

Photo taken in Danbury, Connecticut

In God's Time

Taking my time, 
moving through a daily routine, 
I've come to that moment 
when I become anxious 
for answers to questions unresolved. 

Then, a thought enters my mind, 

moves through me, and reaches my soul. 

It becomes a prayer, guiding me 

to these feelings of love, peace, joy

that encompass me. 

No longer am I filled with doubt, 

for purpose supplants ache, and now, 

I feel Divine Love open my heart with His aim 

on a path, carefully tread 

in God's Time.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

You can listen to me recite this verse in my 'froggy' January voice by clicking HERE.

Sydney Owenson: Weaving Threads of Culture Together

From my book: 

In Sydney Owenson’s national tales, she weaves together threads of disenfranchisement and enchantment, capturing the essence of the politically inspired Romantic era, in which the grand is intentionally written to be grander, where literary characterizations entwine with political forces within a civil society. 

The English aristocracy and the publishing community accept Owenson as a significant member of their elite societies through her writing and marriage to Sir Charles Morgan. Even though she takes the name, ‘Lady Morgan,’ she remains loyal to her Irish roots as Sydney Owenson. Her loyalty to both identities serves her expressive purposes well, for she carefully coordinates these unique influences into her text by merging the English tale of aristocratic inheritance with Irish ideology. 

Not only did Sydney Owenson bring innovation to Irish literature in the form of national tales written from a woman’s perspective, but also she included illuminating research in each of her works on the historical significance of her characters, their personal and political milieux, and their sociolinguistic backgrounds. She includes a wide range of socioeconomic and ethnic variables within the linguistic components of her characters’ discourse. 

For these reasons, she has been an excellent choice in researching the relevance of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries’ revolutionary period in Europe and America. Her interest in uniting political factions and social classes as a way to open communication for the cause of justice in Ireland during this era is clearly evident in her thematic structures and characterizations. 

Faith like a Rock (or Ode to a Friend)

Decades ago, I lived in Atlanta and received a letter from a friend who lived in my hometown in Michigan. She wrote to tell me that our mutual friend in Junior High School had committed suicide. We were all cheerleaders, and it was so sad to learn that this young girl came to such a sad ending. After praying, I wrote this poem, "Faith like a Rock (or Ode to a Friend)." Unfortunately, our friend ended up as a drifting river. 

Photo of a stream near my home with a small, gentle waterfall and many rocks

Faith like a Rock

(or Ode to a Friend)

So this is life ~

engulfing 

the sorrows and heartaches

of human weakness.

There are no tides without the ocean depths.

A tear can stroke my cheek,

but where is Faith?

The heart can contain emotions.

The soul can contain feelings.

A waterfall may flow forever, 

but without the steadfast Rock,

it is only a drifting river.

Each of us has a Rock

which harbors our heart. 

The stronger the Rock, 

the more tender the soul. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Empty Nest

 

Empty Nest

Nest of winter

left over from the hot, summer months,

carefully interlaced grasses

rest peacefully against a raftered wall.

This nest that once was the home, 

center of life for the young feathered ones

whose songs welcomed sleepy ears each morning

and sang 'good night' echoes to begin each evening. 

Now, the silence reigns,

bringing with it the howling, wintry winds, 

as the strength of woven grasses awaits

another answered prayer for the warmth and hope 

of Spring.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

The Mill

Long ago, a friend told me about this beautiful mill, located in Floyd County, Virginia. I found a picture of it in a history book and saw the serene beauty of this sight, so I took out my oil paints and painted my own version of the mill: Mabry Mill is its name. Below are two photos. One is a photo from Google Images. The other is my painting of the lovely Mabry Mill in Floyd County, Virginia. The poem revolves around this stalwart mill.

The 'melodious Lark' in the poem refers to Ralph Vaughn Williams' masterpiece, The Lark Ascending. You can hear the lovely melody if you click HERE. 

Photo of Mabry Mill, Virginia

 from Google Images

 

My painting of Mabry Mill, Virginia

                                             

The Mill

Quietly and peaceful

 The Mill does stand

In harmony with God's land,

and in its tranquil solitude

the melodious Lark 

sings its sweet etude. 

All the while, 

the Mill in steady repose sings: 

"I'll be here

as long as the wind does carry

His song through the realms of time. 

I'll be here for you ~ 

My love will ne'er weary

for your spirit 

inspires

my Joy. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(To hear my reading of this poem on Pod-omatic, click HERE.)

Ash Wednesday

 

“But thou, when thou fastest anoint thy head, and wash thy face; That thou appear not to men to fast, but to thy Father who is in secret: and thy Father who seeth in secret, will repay thee.”

(Matthew 6:17-18) kjv