Animals by Design

Living in a society that appears to be growing increasingly more humanistic, Beth Philp wanted to write a book for children that could be used by parents and teachers to introduce and/or reinforce the concept of God as our loving creator. For some time she had been intrigued by how certain people can look at cars, houses, toys, and virtually anything man made and know instinctively that these were designed and produced by individuals with clever, creative minds. Yet when these same people look at the intricacies of a flower, tree, animal, the human mind and body, etc, they assume this complex design somehow just happened. How much they miss about the mind and love of our creator!

For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead... Rom 1:20

In thinking about how she could turn her vision into reality, Philp decided to make design the focus of the book. She wanted to somehow show that all design begins in the mind of a designer, and that perfect, complex designs require a perfect mind. Since the book was for children, she wanted to use a form of design that was familiar and fun. Animal design seemed like the perfect choice, and Animals by Design was the result.


Animals by Design is not a standard picture book, but rather a creative teaching tool for children of all ages. Through the vehicle of imaginary animal design the reader learns that all design begins in someone's mind. After attempting to then design a real, living animal it becomes apparent that such complex design requires a superior mind. Animal fact boxes are found on each page which connect the rhyming text to the animal on that page and offer jumping off points for further study. Also, the photos, text, questions and facts provide a variety of opportunities for the parent and teacher to use the book age appropriately.

Sample text (from macaw page):
Yes, let's design an animal and pretend that he can come alive.
Let's try to give him everything that's needed to survive.
But before we can be certain that his needs have been provided,
everything about him will need to be decided.
It's the "everything about him" part that makes your head start to spin.
With countless possibilities, where should our design begin?


Specifications: Full color, 8 x 9 ½ inches, soft glossy cover, 36 glossy pages, professional design and lay out. Written in conversational rhythm and rhyme. Filled with colorful photos of favorite animals including tigers, elephants, pandas, penguins, zebras, giraffes and more. The book also has a number of amazing imaginary animals by talented artist, Bret Poulsen, that are displayed in real photographic backgrounds (see sample page below the cover as an example). Fact boxes on every page. Retails for $12. ISBN: 978-0-615-18867-6. Below is a color copy of our ad brochure.



What others have written:

Beautiful book. Excellent quality with a good Christian perspective. Scientist

From the first time I read Animals by Design, I thought of the many ways I could use it as a teaching tool in our classes. I look forward to using the book in our unit on creation. Christian Youth Educator

Animals by Design appeals to children of different ages. The art and photography are stunning and keep the attention of pre-readers. The story line catches the attention of young readers, and the factual information offers yet another level. What a great way to teach and share the joy of creation! High School English Teacher

I like the way Philp keeps the reader engaged through her use of questions. She doesn't just present information to be absorbed--she asks her readers to think critically and arrive at conclusions on their own. A great book to use in a class room or home school setting. Recommended.
Christian Children's Book Review

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For your copy of Animals by Design, you can copy, paste, and fill out the order form below and mail it with check or money order to the address on the form. You can also submit payment to animalsbydesignbook@yahoo.com using PayPal (check form for shipping costs). Animals by Design is also available at Amazon.com.


Thanks so much, Beth

Sufferings

As drops of rain upon parched ground so would be my tears,
yet my heart longs to weep.

My feet and hands are shackled, my lips made mute by truth-deaf ears,
yet I must sing and I must dance...

For I see how eternity cradles the earth.
I know the love that forms the child and spins the double helix,
that causes life to spring from death and joy to spring from pain.

So I will dance and I will sing and keep the vigil in the night
until the Son's first rays...


c 2001 B Philp

The Quest for Truth

It was finished! It was done at last!
It's final form was drafted.
I held now in my trembling hand a poem
entitled Truth, a masterpiece I'd crafted.

Through hours and days and weeks of
toil and tears and fear and strife,
I'd agonized and ecstasized in choosing
just the perfect words to give my
understanding and my deepest feelings... life.

Should I read it to my friend? No, that would
be unseemly and seem overly rehearsed.
I'll let her read it for herself.
She'll be among the priveleged first...

I watched her eyes peruse it once,
then back again to read it twice!
Then as she handed back my poem, she
smiled and softly said, "That's nice."

That's nice? I thought. That's nice?
That's all? I thought. That's all?
Was I the unsuspecting butt of some cruel
cosmic joke? Or were there hidden cameras
perched behind each nail hole in the wall?
Alas, no, that was truly all.

My chin dropped to my chest.
My heart fell to my feet.
To have my art rejected by a
valued friend was bittersweet.

I learned that in our quest for
truth, one walks a lonely mile.
There isn't room for two abreast.
Each must walk single file...


c 1999 B Philp

Change

Was I a freshman or a sophomore?
Just which now it isn't clear.
But I'm sure the guy I'm writing of
was in his senior year.

Captain of the football team, monitor in the hall,
president of the senior class, a big man known by all.
As for me, I was a no one. Fitting in was not my thing.
Just another faceless, nameless kid to herd before the bell would ring.

Yes, I was just a no one, but how important he was then.
It's strange... I would have never dreamed our paths would ever cross again.

But my junior year in college, much to my surprise,
he sat there in geology, no recognition in his eyes.
No, he didn't know me, but he overheard me say
that I was from our hometown so he spoke to me that day.

We introduced ourselves in turn. We looked each other in the eye.
He said, "I don't remember you."
"Oh well," was my reply.

In lab he sat all by himself, not knowing anyone.
I said, "Come on and join us." He seemed quite pleased to come.
We saw each other daily, and by semester's end
we grew to like each other. He came to be... my friend.

I pictured how it was back then, how time produced such change.
How different it had made two lives.
How weird, how neat, how strange...


c 1997 B Philp

Be You Holy - lyrics

Be you holy for I am holy.
Know I've not redeemed you with silver and gold.
But with the precious blood of my Son,
the One slain before earth's foundations were formed.

Be you holy for I am holy.
Live my Royal Law and my Spirit renew.
You are the chosen temple of God.
Let my Holy Spirit dwell richly in you.

Be forgiving and tenderhearted.
Do justly, love mercy, walk humbly with me.
You're my beloved. You are my sons.
Be holy and blameless when my kingdom comes.

c 2005 Beth Philp

Anniversary Song (lyrics)

As when God joined us as one, and we faced this life together,
when we brought new life into the world and held them in our arms,
as the blessings of a peaceful home, the joy of children's children,
time has been that good to us.

As the newness of each spring, as the vibrant days of summer,
as the splendor of the autumn leaves lit by the morning sun,
as the magic of a fireside in the cold and dark of winter,
time has been that good to us.

We've cared all these years, we've shared all these years
the laughter and the love and warm embraces.
Though changes are there... the grey in our hair,
the lines that life has etched upon our faces.

As the hours of holding hands, as the tender, special moments,
as fulfilling as our love so we need never love again,
as the tapestry of memories we will cherish til our ending,
time has been that good to us.
Yes, time has been so very good to us...


c 2000 B Philp

Orcas Remembrance

Amidst lavender and foxglove, madrona and tall, stately pine,
seven cousins share their roots: the O'Neill Royal Family line.
Though lives have taken different paths with years and miles apart,
their heritage and family ties still bind them heart to heart.

Lovely scenes of isles and sky, the scent of salt in sea breeze air.
Stunning table settings, a menu planned with thought and care.
Delicious cheese, delightful wine, salmon, pasta, lemon zest.
Seasoned with one thoughtful man, seven women... richly blessed.

Faded family photographs, old, yet often new.
Stories told of long ago, awakening the memory, refining what is true.
The bond among them strengthened, new memories to hide away.
Remembrances to treasure, to share again another day...


c 2010 B Philp

I'm Meghan...

I'm Meghan, and I'm not a boy.
I like to dance and sing.
I wear my leotard to bed.
I like that sort of thing.

I have two big boy brothers.
One is Ryan, and the other's Matt.
They never wear a leotard.
(How silly just to think of that!)

My hair is long, like Barbie's.
Matt and Ryan have short hair.
I love my cuddly baby doll.
You'll never see the boys with dolls.
Not them! Not anywhere!

While I enjoy a frilly dress,
the boys are stuck with pants.
(They do soccer and karate,
but they never, ever dance!)

I'm Meghan. I'm this many now,
but soon I will be four.
I'll be big then like my brothers.
I won't be little any more.

I can be strong-willed and stomp my feet,
or very sweet and sometimes coy.
I'm truly my own person.
I'm Meghan, and I'm not a boy...


c 1999 B Philp

The Words of Her Own Heart (lyrics)

She was seventeen. She was restless. She left home to find a life.
She'd had enough of small towns. She'd had enough of family strife.
She'd seen the big world on the big screen and dreamed of better times.
She never gave a second thought to the love she left behind.

She ended up in downtown, Big City, USA.
She liked the taste of freedom, of having her own way.
But daylight turned to night there, and her world turned up-side-down,
where faded jeans and shattered dreams was the only life she found.

She was on her own. Destination: Somewhere.
She was now full grown. At least, that's what she thought.
She faced life all alone just to prove she needed no one.
She wouldn't even listen to the words of her own heart.

She finally felt the love that had been with her all along.
It wasn't so important now who was right or who was wrong.
She finally realized she was too young to be alone.
She wasn't angry anymore. She just wanted to go home.

She was on her own. Destination: Somewhere.
She was now full grown. At least, that's what she thought.
She faced life all alone just to prove she needed no one.
Thank God, she finally listened to the words of her own heart.
Thank God, she finally listened to the words of her own heart...


c 2001 B Philp

One Hundred Years

It was 1909 in the spring of the year when
Charles Thomas Philp homesteaded here.
From Denver society's high culture days
to the windswept prairie's primitive ways.

One wonders if Charles ever looked far ahead...
What would the next one hundred years bring?
Hail storms and hardship, great, great grandchildren,
bunnies that hop and birdies that sing.

Fast forward those one hundred years...
Enter Oliver William Jones,
double great grandson of Charles Thomas Philp,
a young boy with spirit and spunk of his own.

As for now he knows nothing of Charles Thomas Philp,
of homesteading or of a pioneer's plight,
but Oliver William, at nineteen months,
sees the birds and the bunnies and squeals with delight!



c 2009 B Philp

On Turning 40

Some think that turning forty means life's over,
you're as good as dead,
while others see the years they've lived as merely
preparation for the challenges that lie ahead.

Some see a rusted gateway to a fateful downhill slide,
while others see an open door... no opportunity denied!
It saddens some to think that they're no longer young or not as strong,
while others are just thankful they've been blessed with health and
lived this long.

The difference is perspective and life choices that they make,
the priorities they set, the attitudes they take.

The second half of life is not for dying but for living,
for finding strength through weakness, for loving and forgiving.
For chasing those ambitions, and fulfilling all your dreams,
for doing what you really love, for realizing lifelong schemes.
For learning life's true purpose, and the satisfaction that can bring,
for learning of your heart's song, then listening to your spirit sing...

There's really so much more to life than youth and strength and winning.
So congrats on turning forty! Your life is just beginning...


c 1999 B Philp

little

i am just a little one
i have little hope

i have no voice
i have no choice
i have little hope

will they let me live
will i be sacrificed

i have no choice
i have no voice
i have little hope

i am just a little one
and i have little hope...


c 1997 B Philp

You Believed in Me (lyrics)

My heart said it's all about the journey,
how we go from here to there.
It's all about being in the moment,
about the love and gifts we share.
It's being thankful when we're blessed,
and living what is true.
My heart told me you'd embrace me
if I let my light shine through.

My heart said we're not so very different.
There are times our dreams collide.
Connected by more than joy and sorrow,
there's a oneness deep inside.
"Let others feel the passion
that lives inside of you."
My heart told me you'd believe me
if I let my truth shine through.

So here I am.
You've brought me to this place.
You've nourished me and carried me,
strengthened me with your embrace.
It's so incredible. How can this really be?
Now I believe my heart, cause you believed in me.

My heart told me, "This is your time.
Reach for the brightest star.
It's what you've always hoped for."
My heart whispered, "Just be who you are..."

So here I am.
You've brought me to this place.
You've nourished me and carried me,
strengthened me with your embrace.
It's so incredible. How can this really be?
Now I believe my heart, cause you believed in me.
Yes, I believe my heart... cause you believed in me.


c 2007 B Philp

A Struggling Pianist's Ode to Rosin

Oh Rosin, sticky resin, you're in my thoughts today.
How I long to have your amber jewels to use to help me play.
You see it's playing black keys that gives me such a fright,
for when I go to play the black, I end up playing white.

Case in point, the piece I'm learning, A Major is the key.
Though my finger aims for C#, it slips off onto D.
C#'s are not the only keys I fumble with a thud.
What are written to be clean, crisp chords sound much more like... mud.

Oh, they say it isn't you, it's more practice that I need
to play those black keys soundly at metronomic speed.
That may be true, but as for now it's dreadful when I slip.
A little rosin on the pads might help to make them... grip.
(I wouldn't feel so foolish in what I think today
if I'd only seen a Rubinstein rosin up to play.)

You must know this is tongue in cheek
and nonsense through and through,
yet, in my weaker moments, I admit, I think of you.
So, Rosin, sticky resin, one question of you lingers...
If you're found on violinists' bows and prima ballerinas' toes,
why not on pianists' fingers?


c 1992 B Philp

the footwashing (lyrics)

He wrapped a towel about his waist, and then he washed their feet.
It was a servant's role to wash the dust from off the street.
How he longed to share this night with them before suffering before crucified.
So our Savior washed their feet the night before he died.

Isn't this the One, the great I AM, the central figure in God's plan,
who with clay upon His hands breathed life into the man?
Isn't He the One known as the Word, the Mighty God, the Light of Men,
who came from God and knew all things were given unto Him?

You know not now the things I do. Hereafter you shall see.
And if you do as I have done, how very blessed you'll be.
You call me Lord, and you say well. My servants should do as I do.
If I, your Master, wash your feet, wash one another's, too.

Isn't this the Lord God Omnipotent, King of Glory, Kings of Kings,
the Life, the Truth, the Son of God, Creator of all things?
Isn't He the One who is to come, First and Last, Beginning and the End,
the Alpha and Omega, before whom every knee shall bend?

Our Savior knew His hour was come. He knew what He must do.
He loved his own unto the end. He taught them, Love, as I've loved you.
How he longed to share this night with them before suffering before crucified.
So our Savior washed their feet the night before He died.

Yes, our Savior washed their feet...


c 2005 B Philp

Twenty-Two

What's a mother supposed to do
when her child turns twenty-two?
She's got to get it through her head
those simpler days are over,
of algebra and ballet and reminding
her to make her bed.

But even though she's twenty-two
there's so much more a mom can teach.
At twenty-two and on her own
she does not want to hear mom preach.

So what is a mother supposed to do
when her child turns twenty-two?

A mother still does all she can
to let her know that she's concerned,
to influence her not to stray
but stay upon the path she's learned.

I guess as long as I have life,
yes, even though she's twenty-two,
I'll share my deep concern and care.
That's what a mother's supposed to do...


c 2000 B Philp

Recital

White mousse grows in my hand... sticky, like a mother's love.

Miniature tutus that shine and itch...
eight all the same. Hair pieces
ceremoniously presented. Hold still
for lipstick. Backstage stories and snacks.
Third from the left. Blow a kiss.

Add water to the mousse. Blend in the palms of my hands.
Spread evenly to dampen all her hair.

Recital photos as yearly album markers.
Grandma comes to Texas. Eyes like
Aunt Eileen. Lilac and lace made
by hand. Now leading the babies.
Somewhere in Time, years pass.
Flipping pages... changing children.


Brush the hair away from her face. Form the pony tail into a bun. Cover with a net. Secure with pins. Not one
strand may stray.

Driving herself to class, rehearsal, class
rehearsal. Several costumes needed. Alter
body suits. Loosen elastic. Satin toe shoes.
Make-up in the mirror. Elegant opening poses.

Carefully shield her eyes. Apply finishing spray.



A glance at the program. Time for her solo.
Light accentuates her features. Translucence
reveals her form and grace. Liberating crescendos
engage the spirit. The interpretation... all her own.


c 2003 B Philp

this ground

Following several days of quiet rain
the grassy cover gleamed in the lowering light.
The newly cloudless sky glowed incandescent blue.
Silhouettes of stone and iron stretched
their darkened angles toward the East.
War had long been silent. But an unexpected
sadness disturbed and awakened the memory...

Unwilling to be numbered as brothers
they courted differing equalities.
The nation became soiled with unforgiveness.
And they were divided as garments on wash day.

Their battered feet struggled to reach the Altar of Freedom.
As they fell there they never smelled the aroma of
its incense. Only the piercing stench of battle.
They never sensed the smoothness of its stone. Only
the ripping and shredding of flesh.
They never heard the words repeated from the Book.
Only the dying young bleating for their mothers.

Though their life blood, poured out
and sprinkled, hallows these fields,
though their honor and glory hover here in triumph,
mercy and truth refuse to be buried alongside them.


c 2000 B Philp

Nicotine

We see them almost every day. We silently and helplessly stand by as they
perform their sacrificial rituals. We look on as the mesmerizing, dancing
ribbons of smoke ascend as sweet incense from their instruments of worship, anachronistic remnants of an ancient primitive culture. It is in this smoke
the god they serve lives and breathes and has his being. And so they deeply
breathe it in, to lungs once pink and perfect.

He is never far from them, enticing them to his altars... at the ceremonial
rising of the sun, as the sun assumes its rightful place, as the shadows of
evening lengthen, in the night watches... whenever they hear his call they
willingly submit and bow down before him. Some have said he is a harsh god, but they choose not to listen. Yes, he commands self sacrifice, but in return he imparts his presence. And in that presence they find hope to carry on...

Other interests slowly fade. They have no other gods before him. Those who
remain faithful are anointed high priests. Their eyes now dull and lifeless,
their skin now grey and blotched and thin, they repeat their sacred mantras
with pursed lips and raspy voices, gasping for air between words.

They have sacrificed their souls and strength and children to him, but he
is not satisfied. He is a selfish god. And theirs, a strange salvation. They
realize, too late, there is no one to redeem them. They realize, too late,
no one has died in their stead...


c 2000 B Philp

Society/Marriage

marriage
changing times
getting a raw deal
badmouthed
devalued
losing its appeal
old fashioned
outdated
judged by many just not cool
a lifetime with one mate?
you've got to be a fool
an honest look around
age of marriage past?
commitment disappearing
precious few will last
marriage - the bad guy?
constant through the years
something more at work here
causing hurt and tears
forces all around us
enough to fill a book
identify and study them
we said, an honest look
no more marriage?
so what happens?
society goes down
end of so-called family life
go ahead then
sleep around
who's your father?
I don't know
just some guy my mother knew
she said once he was kinda tall
his eyes were kinda blue
that's all you know about him?
yeah, but I don't really care
I don't need a father
pass me that rifle over there...


c 1999 B Philp