Poems and Books By Mary...
 
Through My Open Window

Through my open window, I can hear,
The rustling dance of the cottonwood's leaves,
And the soft, soft whisper of a summertime breeze.
A chorus of birds cheerfully sing a happy song, 
Inviting me to sit and listen, all day long.
Tall green grass and gently rolling hills,
Frame a tiny little brook where the water spills,
Stately oak trees so proudly stand,
And there's a winding little road that borders my land.
God's peace and grace are mine-I know.
He sends me His love through my open window.


Little Cotton Dresses

Little cotton dresses, my mother made for me.
I don't know how she did it.
Not much time or money, were there for her to spend.
She taught herself to cut and pin and match the seams up right.
Each little dress was special, and made me feel so fine.
Dainty prints and solids, calico or plaid,
Some were made of pretty sacks, from chicken feed or flour,
Trimmed with buttons, lace and ruffles, or sometimes just a sash.
The little cotton dresses, my mother made for me
Were really very special, she planned them with her heart,
And little did she know, she had so carefully created,
A very loving memory of something long ago.

My Little Country Church

My little country church is like another home..
The old oak pews are beckoning me, come rest a while.
Early morning sunlight sends a warm and rosy glow,
Through windows stained in rainbow colors,
Reminder of the promise God made so long ago.
Organ music softly plays, all those favorite hymns,
And friendly greetings pass among the crowd.
My troubles seem to gently fade,
My heavy load much lighter grows.
I feel God's presence, ever so distinctly, here,
Even though He's really everywhere.
My little country church is a special place for me.
I can pour out all my needs and fears, with prayer and songs of praise.
In a community of faithful friends, my heart feels light and free.
Many memories are held inside these, oh, so friendly walls.
Children singing, "Jesus Loves Me", weddings, christenings and sad good-byes.
We celebrate Christ's birth, His death upon the tree.
His resurrection on that Easter Day, has set all sinners free.
My life would be so empty if I had never known this place.
My little country church is like another home.
I faintly hear that steeple bell, it's ringing out for you and me.
Come worship, now, and pray-
"Come home!" I seem to hear it say.


Mary's Memoir:

A Country Girl Grows Up Under the Cottonwood Tree

Parents have no idea what they are getting into when they have children. Four little girls, born to 
Joe and Ruby Kranawetter over the span of five years, were welcomed to the family. Three of them
were good little girls doing all the things you would expect them to do. And then there was Mary.
Little Mary, daughter number three, gave her parents several reasons over the years to scratch their
heads and ask: "What do we do with this headstrong child who seems to have a mind of her own?"

One might think growing up on a farm in the 1940's, '50's and '60's could be very dismal if your daddy
was a share-cropper. Expressions like "just getting by" and "making do" described her living situation,
but were not part of Mary's vocabulary. Parents that taught the value of hard work, sharing and caring
made her life an adventure.