About Writing Music and God's Blessing on the Song:

ABOUT WRITING  MUSIC and GOD'S BLESSING ON THE SONG:

MUSIC DIRECTOR’S PRAYER FOR THE CHOIR:

“We come together this evening Lord in your Name. We are here because we love You and we pray that You will bless our efforts and bless our joy in serving You.

Dear Lord, thank You for watching over us during the week and for bringing us safely here. We pray that You will bless us as we devote the talents that You’ve so graciously bestowed upon us. Bless those on Sunday morning who will hear and sing the words to these songs…words that were written by composers who, following an experience with You, Lord…penned words down on paper…words that You have given to them, to be shared with those who long to hear.

Thank You for Your love, your strength, Your joy in serving You.”

In Jesus’ Name,   Amen



Excerpt from 'Man and His Music,' an essay by Carol Castagna.

"The embryo in the kernel of an artist’s mind is victor.  Restless, the pearl in the shell, this treasure, awakens and whispers its melody and soars to heights unknown.    This essence of brilliance and creativity declares his stance, immovable.  It will not be overcome by the winds of time.  It moves to emerge, to influence, to sing."          

                    Carol T. Castagna      
                         © October, 2012 

                         Library of Congress


II Corinthians 4:7
For God who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ… But we have this treasure, in earthen vessels that the Excellency of the power may be of God and not us.

A SONG for you:

   

                                                                                    BE STILL

A song of encouragement and faith 

        

“Be still and know that I am God today.”

Whispers His voice within.   “I’ll lead the way.

Trust me with all your heart

Lean not to your own way.

Trust me when naught you see

There’s grace for each new day

Believe, my child believe-

And it shall be-though in the mist of night

Soon morning light you’ll see”

His promise is our hope

His love, our joy and stay.

“Be still and know that

I am God today."

(c) October 2012

Carol Castagna

Lyrics and Melody

Another SONG for you:

Sonnet of hope

After the passing of my dear Grandmother (Rose) Raimonda DeLucia, the Lord gave me these words of comfort...    

How can my heart be lonely?

When I have Jesus always

Guiding me and walking by my side?

He is my Sunshine after rain –

And with me He abides

When days seem dark and empty-

My Friend reminds me softly

Just how much He cares about my grief

He fills me with new hope and peace –

And gives me sweet release

How is it that He loves me so?

My heart will never, never know

To bring such stillness after storm

To quiet my heart with comfort warm

My heart will never comprehend

His wondrous love and so I sing

How can my heart be lonely?

When I have Jesus always

Guiding me and walking by my side?

He is my Friend, my Joy, my Life and with Him I’ll abide.

© October, 2012

Lyrics and Melody

Carol T. Castagna

PSALM 37: 7

REST IN THE LORD AND WAIT PATIENTLY FOR HIM…

                                          

MY DAD: I KNEW HIS HEART

My Dad:  the world never knew his heart.  Oh, people knew he was a hard worker, a man who would not hesitate to remove his shirt and give it to you if you were in need; they knew he loved his wife and his daughter and had a great sense of humor, made you laugh, and  had the ability to listen to your heart.

What they didn't know, was this:  He was an avid reader; mostly American History, the Bible, Poems That Touch the Heart, by Alexander and enjoyed books on conservative politics. William Buckley was his favorite editorial writer.  He read Edgar Guest's poems, Walt Whitman, and Carl Sandburg. He had a subscription to Poets and Writers...I found a few old, old copies long after he passed away. I found some writings of his, also:  it warmed my heart... This man, with a knack for beautifying everything he touched outdoors, from his rock-garden to his flagstone walk, merely accepted the fact that he worked at the Bridgeport Brass Company in a basement with no windows, cutting dies with precision for a living for forty-five years – and worked almost incessantly as an artist after work, either sketching, or building stone walks and walls and fireplaces or working in his garden.  (Our family called the landscaped acre behind our home, our Park.)   Yes, Dad made it into a park of his own.  He would never take credit, though, for any of its beauty …he would say with humility “I just plant the seeds and God does the rest.” 

I remember the newspaper covering used to protect his head that he would fold in place, with the same precision he used when measuring a cement walk, when he was working outside on a very hot day.  Dad fastidiously folded each corner to result in a raised oval covering above his ears.  It shaded him from the sun …He would wear it while he was pouring cement in the hot sun, whistling all the while, (usually, Jimmie Crack Corn or Little Jimmie Brown~the Chapel Bells Were Ringing)  enjoying what he was doing, proud of a job well done when he finished his work.

Dad played the harmonica and sang in a rich baritone voice.  In fact, he sang hymns most of the time he was planting outside in his gardens or while he was doing masonry on the walks or walls surrounding the gardens or leading to the home. He sang while driving.  If I listen long enough, I can almost hear him singing, Shall We Gather by the River, Yes, I Know, Jesus Blood can make the vilest sinner clean, Redeemed by the Blood of the Lamb, The Old Account Was Settled Long Ago.  Whistling was another of his favorite pass-times.  So, music was always in his mind and heart.  One beautiful thing, among many, that he said to me is:  "You take words, put them down on paper, and make them smile.'

The following poem, Cheers, my tribute to him, was written for and read to my Dad long before he passed away...

CHEERS

A Letter to Dad

Here's to you, Dad

To your skills as a builder of houses and dreams

To your craft, etched with precision

To the work of your hands

Through the years of your life

Thank you for building my world.

Here's to you, Dad

To your strength of character - to your acceptance of life in the raw

To your readiness to forgive - to your caution in judging

Thank you for the heart you try to conceal,

For letting me see your imperfections thereby making it

Possible for me to embrace my own.

Here's to you, Dad

To your love of life and God and people

To your spirit - to your sacrifice - to your sense of humor and the

Raconteur within you - to your quest for knowledge

(My self-taught dad with a genius all your own)

Thank you for pursuing life in spite of its storms that rage

Thank you for teaching me to smile

Your heart is an open book - It teaches humility and hope and courage

The words speak echoes of truth ~ and
Proclaim Christ's promise for an Eternity without pain.                           

Your loving daughter, Carole

 Carol T.Castagna
  ©  October 2012
  Library of Congress

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Sheet Music ~ Hymn

The Rapture

 

THE RAPTURE         

A poem that heralds Christ’s second coming   

The sky, star-swept
Whispers of a pearl-haze night
Silence hovers...

Snowflakes fall slippery from above
Like diadems

All is still
A blast of trumpets!
And silence becomes
Welcomed glory to believers
Fear, to scorning multitudes
Nocturnal solitude sparks into radiance
To make way for...

His coming!

The sky, slashed in pastel hues ~

His presence!
Awakening!
Angels, draped flawless in white
Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace
Clouds behind Him, a backdrop of His glory

The redeemed, cleansed, free from sin by His blood
Arise exultantly to meet Him...
‘The dead in Christ rise first’

Then we join to meet Him in the sky-

 ‘And every eye shall see Him’

Old and New Testament
Prophesy Fulfilled!  He destroys pain, sorrow, death…

‘In a twinkling of an eye’

Jubilation!  Celebration!   New life! 

Eternity begins with God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit….

Stunned and aghast, others watch, wait and tremble…

                   

Carol Ann Turiano(-Castagna)      1962     © 10/2012

Dance of Autumn

    

                          Dance of Autumn

Leaves, falling carelessly from maple branches

Against a mauve-spattered sky

Dancing like philodendron

Flirting with the wind

Swaying to the music of the breeze

And poised against an azure haze

"Fair Autumn, Your majesty commands first place among all seasons

Drape your crimson and emerald gold

Over my shoulders
 -

Stay a while,

Most passionate  ~ Autumn Song

Stay a while longer...

Warm me with color before

Winter breaks the day with cold and ice

October morn - - wait! "

                               © October, 2012 Carole A. Castagna

The Place Where Kindness Lives

THE PLACE WHERE KINDNESS LIVES

The place where kindness lives is not so very far away

You'll stumble quite by chance upon its presence one sweet day

As if it were a dream, a gift, a treasure chest of gold

You'll walk into the depths and breadth of kindness unfortold
Some fortunate among us knew its essence long ago…

Childhood memories whisper warmth's sweet breeze as we grow old

Yet others of us wait till quite by happenstance it seems

The place where kindness lives, at last no longer crowds our dreams

At last we taste its sweet, sweet peace and breathe its fragrance new

And bask in fields of daisies _sunshine bright and daybreak's dew
And so we find the place where kindness lives not far away

Around our bend and up the street

A home where minds content retreat

A dwelling place where warm hearts meet

… This place where kindness lives

© October,  2012

                                                Carol T. Castagna

Dear Lord,  
Help me to minister to the your people with your passion, compassion, love and grace.  Let me seek the lost and find them, reach out to them and touch them with your love, for your honor and your glory.
In Jesus' Name, Amen.

SHAGBARK HICKORY TREE by the late GEORGE TURIANO, Author's Dad

Sketch, SHAGBARK HICKORY by the late GEORGE TURIANO, Author's Dad