The Auction

Four old houses in our neighborhood have been bulldozed and burned by the owners. Three just this month. Our neighbors house was built after WWII with oak lumber he had cut down on his farm. It was solid and sturdy; constructed with love and care.  It would have stood for many more years but after the last farmer who owned it retired from farming the house became a place for renters and then stood vacant. It had been vandalized and stripped of everything that could be sold as scrap.

I wrote the following poem after attending the auction of the last owners who lived in the little house.. They had cared for it with such love. I had no idea in a few years it would be no more.

Old House

The Auction

The old couple sat in their yard and slowly looked around

As they carried out the furniture and set it on the ground

The tables were lined up in rows filled with memories

Of their years together and the way it used to be

There were boxes full of treasures gathered through the years

Some bought smiles of good times while others brought on tears

An old picture of a dog that had hung on grandma’s wall

And mother’s little table that held the Bible in the hall

They set out her coal oil lamp and his knives and tools

Great grandpa’s shaving mug and two old milking stools

The auctioneer gave a talk and then began to sell

First the farm equipment and the old dinner bell

Then guns, books, dishes and grandma’s handmade quilts

The old kitchen cabinet and the chest that dad had built

Medals sold from World War I – a hero’s without a name

And who bought grandma’s rocking chair, it seems such a shame

Keepsakes of family histories that are now forever lost

Memories of generations worth more than what they cost

Dolls, toys and puzzles, accumulations of a life

These two had lived together as a husband and a wife

Their possessions now had dwindled to a precious few

As they held each other’s hand the end was now in view

The auctioneer gave his chant as the bidder raised his hand

The bidding was now over as they sold the house and land

Others now hold these legacies as they now end their race

In time will some remember that was Ol’ Man Thompson’s place.

Sue Ikerd
Categories: Country Life, Poem | Leave a comment

God’s Little Angel

little angel

God’s Little Angel

(In memory of our granddaughter, Megan, our little angel who was taken away too soon. Today would have been her 22nd birthday)

You tiptoed into my heart and there you’ll always stay

You left your footprints on my soul as God beckoned you away

I didn’t get to watch you grow or know who you would be

I embrace you in that special place and know one day I’ll see

You are not forgotten, loved from the very start

Your dear memory now nestles in a corner of my heart

Someday we’ll be together; when I think of you I smile

God’s beautiful little angel and our precious little child

Sue Ikerd
February 11, 2012
Categories: Christian, Poem, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

God’s Mysterious Ways

Last year my cousin’s son died leaving a young wife and son. So many of us had prayed for his healing but it was not to be. I had heard his amazing testimony and it was consoling to know that he was a Christian and his earthly suffering was over. After pondering all that happened I wrote the following poem.

LSP_4391 lillies fb

God’s Mysterious Ways

Peter three times denied him; the crowd cried crucify him;

And even the one called Thomas had his doubts

I am just a farmer’s wife, living a quiet, simple life,

Trying to understand what life’s about

To you we prayed and cried, questioned why our loved one died

But we believe that you know what is best

Because of your perfect plan, we place our souls in your hand

And pray to you we can pass the test.

I’ve read about the trials of Job, the woman who but touched your robe

And marvel how their faith could be so strong

How you sent your Son to die for a sinner such as I

I’m thankful God, to you that I belong

Help me to accept your Breath, and know a life won’t end in death

In Heaven there’s no ending to our days

The birds and lilies of the field, remind me that your Word is real

And I marvel at your mysterious ways

Because God loves us dearly, through the glass we’ll all see clearly

This is all according to His plan

We need only just believe and Jesus in our hearts receive

One day God’s mysteries we will understand

Sue Ikerd

April 30, 2014

Categories: Uncategorized | 1 Comment

How Can You Stop A Miracle



I’m the grandmother of a grandson who weighed 3 lbs 1 oz at birth. I watched as he struggled for each breath and then grow into a fine young man. I had a granddaughter who was stillborn and I often wonder what her life could have been like. I think each life is important and each should be given the chance to live.

I am nestled in my mother’s womb waiting to be born

Made by my Creator, I am uniquely formed

My little body’s growing from my perfect little nose

Down to my tiny fingers and my teeny tiny toes

Within me beats a heart, just like your heart beats too

I only want the chance for life like your mother gave to you

Who knows who I might become if only given time

Consider for a moment, it’s not your life it’s mine

How can you stop a miracle, I just can’t comprehend

I beg you not to take my life, not to make it end

Please let me breath my first breathe, let me have a voice

Dear God let them understand I’m a child I’m not a choice

Sue Ikerd
Categories: Christian, Poem | 3 Comments

Grandma’s Quilts

I love quilts. I have quilts that belonged to my mother, grandmother and great grandmother and each one tells a story and has a special meaning. They were made in hard times when nothing was wasted but they were made with skill and love. I can look at ones my mother made and pick out the swatches that were my dresses from childhood or a dress that my mother or sister once wore. This is an analogy to life, each moment or each piece can turn into a beautiful memory.

This picture is of my great-great-grandmother’s rocking chair and the quilt was made from my mother’s dresses.

grandmasquilt rs

Grandma’s Quilts

In her old rocking chair, with love and with care
She cut the remnants of cloth
With scissors she clipped, she sewed and she snipped
The pieces as she had been taught

The patterns were varied, and before she was married
Her mother had taught her this skill
As each quilt was sewn, those before her had shown
The love of this craft to instill

With the quilt in a frame, the neighbors all came
Chatting with thimbles in hand
Each stitch must be fine as they wove the designs
Of lines, flowers, feathers and fans

There was Around the World, and the Sun Bonnet Girl
She had made for her granddaughter’s bed
She pieced Irish Chain, and Double Wedding Ring
That I now proudly use for a spread

As I look at each block, my mind wanders in thought
While I gaze on this prized legacy
On each square that I look, it’s like reading a book
Of my own family’s dear history

My pink striped pinafore and the dress Peggy wore
Her time on earth was so brief
A kaleidoscope of colors, each one touching others
This story of life in relief

Cloth from grandfather’s vest and grandma’s wedding dress
Each block has a story to tell
I see my sister’s old skirt, and my father’s blue shirt
And mother’s checked apron as well

These are treasures to me, as each quilt that I see
My mind floods with fond memories
Of those that I love, who look down from above
Grandma’s quilts are so precious to me

Our lives mirror these pieces, and my mind never ceases
I’m amazed at God’s love for all man
If we accept what He taught us, by blood He has bought us
If we will follow the Master’s Plan

He will piece our lives together, depending on whether
We accept His love unafraid
Then our whole life will be, an heirloom from Thee
Like the quilts that Grandmother made.

Sue Ikerd
Categories: Country Life, Poem | 1 Comment