AUTUMN LEAVES

Thanksgiving 1999

Autumn leaves, turned red and brown,
One more year, are falling down.
Crops combined and ground fresh plowed
Hail Thanksgiving clear and loud.

November weather brings on winter,
Our hearts will soon the Advent enter,
And prophecies of Christ we’ll hear
Again on this Two Thousandth year.

Years through which faith was tested,
And for some, that faith arrested;
But for all who held steadfast,
Christ is real; that faith will last.

His mission works in all the world;
Where Christian flags are now unfurled;
Selfish greed is overthrown
As new converts become His own.

And yet, the task is never—ending;
Our children still we keep on sending,
To lighten loads and burdens bear,
‘Til Christ is Master everywhere.

MUD-HEN MENTALITY

November 19, 1999

I rode today along a dam that stopped the water for a pond,
And there a thought about all sham made me feel I should respond.
An old mud hen, with watchful glance, flexed her wings as if to fly;
She missed no step of my advance; not even one to blink her eye.

No doubt she’d often seen my horse, but not with me up on top;
The horse was just a horse of course, but me up top caused her to stop;
To take a quick survey, to look alive and wide awake;
“To stay or not to stay?” The choice was hers to make.

I felt she’d fly, and Skipper too: his ears pricked up, his eyes alert,
We stopped to watch that bird; I eased off and loosed the girt.
No flap of wings, no fast retreat, but diving down into the deep,
She disappeared, fast and neat, to safety that she thought she’d keep.

How human did that bird appear, as she ducked down clear out of sight,
But ducking does not quiet our fear, but rather cancels all our light;
The light that always lets us see, through faith, an ever open door,
That life provides for you and me to love and live forevermore.

But Skip and I outlasted her; submerged that long, all have to rise;
So now, or then, as we prefer, we all return to watchful eyes.
No doubt her fear made her dive into waters cold and dark,
But every bird, to stay alive, has, in the “light”, to re-embark.

It must have been a great surprise, when she came up to face the “light”
And flicked the dampness from her eyes and saw need to flee or fight.
We had no plan to hurt that bird; she dived so deep because of fear;
“Our foe is fear,” we have heard; and when fear fades, we’re all still here.

WHAT WE WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

November 16, 1999

How often we have prayed for this I really cannot say,
But seeing what we mostly miss should choose our gift for Christmas Day;
Not a shiny brand new car, nor trinkets fair to line our shelves,
But just to know who we are, that we might now reclaim ourselves.

“Burnout” blasts our fondest dreams: thwarts achievement of our goals;
Loosens us at all our seams; takes apart our very souls;
This illness comes, I am told, by those who really ought to know,
To the brave, to the bold, who give their best as they go.

We term this busy sort of life our measure of success:
Few times to love our wife; and those times marred by weariness;
No time to watch a sunset; to take a family walk;
To talk about the problems met; to have a family talk.

Moderation is our need; God saw that His first great week;
His creation, we now read, brought God at last His rest to seek;
So, Santa, when you pack your sleigh, please pack for all this one great gift:
A calmer, gentler, moderate way to move the burdens we must lift.

EMBRYONIC INFLUENCE

March 2, 1999

From days of early childhood
Until their very present now,
Memories of loving parenthood
Sustain my feverish brow.

They tell me that my Mom and Dad,
Almost lost beneath a flood,
Swam a team , with what they had,
And thus sustained my embryonic blood.

Though farm and tools were washed away,
My parents still provided bread,
Their energies, without dismay,
Performing what their vows had said.

They gave me life when “all was lost”;
They taught me from my childhood days,
That though by storms we’re often tossed,
Life still offers better ways.

Hardship often found our door,
Sickness, want, and human error,
But no hard knock, as before,
Ever made them flee in terror.

You see, they knew that over all
God reigns supreme and is our friend.
And though some trials does not forestall,
Brings each trial to glorious end.

May God grant me the grace, I pray,
In victory, or human strife,
To face my life my parent’s way
Until God grants Eternal Life.

HIS ALL-INCLUSIVE MIND

On a cold winter Sunday, arriving at the church,
We were snug as a bug, all clothed in our pride;
But as much distracted as a parrot on its perch
By what we were seeing as we walked inside.

We were all dressed up in "our best bib and tucker",
About to take the cup, as we listened to the Word,
But there beside the church stood an "unlucky sucker",
Who for all we could see, The Word had never heard.

We didn't ask him in, or act like a friend,
But just passed by, as if we were shy;
We gossiped with our friends, and did not defend
That wretch outside we were quick to deny.

The prelude was ended when the doors opened wide;
The tattered coat, the hat pulled down,
And the same worn shoes we had seen outside
Slowly walked the aisle! Can you hear the silent sound?

He walked to the pulpit; the church was quiet as death!
He took off his coat; he took off his hat,
And there before our Pastor, we all caught our breath!
Not a text, nor a word! There was no need of that!!

In as much, my friends, as we help the least of these,
With a cup of cold water, or our welcome, warm and kind,
We will reach out, our Master truly please,
And so embrace His all-inclusive Mind.

HIS ALL-INCLUSIVE MIND

February 18, 1999

On a cold winter Sunday, arriving at the church,
We were snug as a bug, all clothed in its pride;
But as much distracted as a parrot on its perch
By what we were seeing as we walked inside.

We were all dressed up in “our best bib and tucker”,
About to take the cup, as we listened to the Word,
But there beside the church stood an “unlucky sucker”,
Who for all we could see, The Word had never heard.

We didn’t ask him in, or act like a friend,
But just passed by, as if we were shy;
We gossiped with our friends, and did not defend
That wretch outside we were quick to deny.

The prelude was ended when the doors opened wide;
The tattered coat, the hat pulled down,
And the same worn shoes we had seen outside
Slowly walked the aisle! Can you hear the silent sound?

He stood behind the pulpit; the church was quiet as death!
He took off his coat; he took off his hat,
And there before our Pastor, we all caught our breath!
Not a text, nor a word! There was no need of that!!

In as much, my friends, as we help the least of these,
With a cup of cold water, or our welcome, warm and kind,
We will reach out, our Master truly please,
And so embrace His all-inclusive Mind.

MUSCLE MOVEMENT

February 4, 1999

In years long gone
I could run a mile,
And from five minutes
Give back a while.

For years I’ve weighed
One-eighty-five,
And I still weigh that;
And still “look alive?”

But now that age
Has changed my paces,
Many good muscles
Have exchanged places.

Muscles that once made me strong,
Around my middle, have gotten long.
Once they made a good strong belly,
But now they let it shake like jelly.

Belts that once just filled the bill,
Now, when fastened, make me ill;
Once they fit exactly right,
But now they make me feel “up tight”.

My doctor said she wanted me,
Each day or two, to walk a mile,
But goodness sake, five plus three,
And then I have to have a while.

Me, Oh My! What must I do?
I must be honest; I must be true;
I walk most places that I go;
But that’s just walking to and fro.

So tighten that belt, and walk, Old Man,
Keep puffing on, until you can
Walk four miles every day,
And shorten that belt the proper way.

A WORD TO MYSELF

February 4, 1999

Again arrives that time of year,
A time we people truly fear,
A time to settle down to facts:
IT’S TIME TO DO OUR INCOME TAX!!

I much prefer to write a rhyme,
Or ride a horse, to fill my time;
Or read some mail, or send a fax;
But Oh, Gee Whiz, Income Tax?

How much of this? What cost for that?
There are more ways “To skin a cat”
But listen, friend, don’t get too lax
When working out your income tax.

Though burdened with the weight of proof,
IRS can catch our “goof’,
And can still ask for facts,
That support our report for Income Tax.

So buckle down, take new heart,
Lay out those bills and make your start;
In early spring, we can relax,
And brag, “I’VE FINISHED UP MY INCOME TAX!”

TEEN KISS

January 30, 1999

Wisdom asks a valid question:
“If one sheep sticks his head in a hole,
Should all sheep make the same their goal?"
The obvious answer is my suggestion.

Teen-age girls in a middle school
Saw on the mirror in the “little girl’s room”
Lipstick prints, and I presume
That they thought that was really cool.

The custodian soon left his note,
Not too harsh, and not too gentle,
Not naive, and not too mental;
And this is what he wrote:

“Please don’t kiss the rest-room glass.”
We were in the middle school;
We had somehow to break the rule,
If we the teen-age test would pass.

Red, purple, pink; yes, even black!
Large lips, small lips and in between,
On that rest-room glass were seen,
Where “mimic-maidens” left their smack.

The custodian came to his wit’s end,
Then called upon a favorite teacher,
A kindly, loving, much loved creature,
Whom all the girls called their friend.

She summoned him and all those lassies
To meet with her right at three-thirty,
To watch some one do something dirty,
Down at their favorite looking-glasses.

He slowly swirled a long brown brush
Round and round in the commode;
From there to mirror he slowly strode;
How loud the sound of their quiet hush!

He brushed that glass ‘til it was clean,
No word was said by her or him,
Nor exclamation from one of them:
But lipstick prints no more were seen.

TATER TALK

January 28, 1999

The big potato; we’ll call him Dad;
Three little girls were all he had,
But came the time for them to wed,
So one by one, hear what they said:

“Mr. Russet wants me to marry,
A load of care I’m glad to carry.”
“Oh, Yes”, said Dad, “indeed that’s great;
With such a name - an ideal mate!”

The second loved an Idaho,
And Papa said, “The way to go!
This marriage indeed will do quite well,
The way Idahos are known to sell.”

Then spoke the third, a tiny child,
With trembling voice, so meek and mild,
“Dan Rather is the man I love;
I’m sure our love’s from God above!”

“Heaven, forbid,” the father cried,
“With such a thought, I’m horrified!
I’ll not agree, now or later;
Dan Rather is a common tater!”

Then quivering lips spoke words profound,
In phrases with a heavenly sound,
“Aren’t we all just common taters,
Trying to be God’s commentators?”

I LOVE MYSELF WHEN I’M WITH YOU

January 11, 1999

I never really understood;
Perhaps no one actually could,
Why children say, out of the blue,
“I love myself when I’m with you!”

I wonder if she likes my gifts,
Such as, perhaps, enabling lifts,
When tasks I show her how to do
Become, for her, no longer new.

Could it be, after all,
When for some lad, we “take the fall”,
That he might think, “I love you too;
I love myself when I’m with you?”

If children know just how we feel;
When love for them is really real;
They just might say, out of the blue,
“I love myself when I’m with you!”

If we are loved, in our own eyes,
Then we're prepared always to rise
Above vain thrills that end in ills,
And works of love our schedule fills.

So parent, teacher, pastor, friend,
Let’s work together toward this end,
That every child may say, “It’s true,
I love myself when I’m with you!”

THE LORD'S SECOND MILE

January 1, 1999

It’s New Year's Day of Ninety-Nine,
And there is time to write a rhyme.
The earth is white with falling snow,
I can’t work out, so here I go:

The grain in bins, the hay in ricks,
The wood stacked straight in firewood sticks,
The pantry full of food we’ve canned,
It all makes New Year's simply grand!

The cows bunch up around their shed,
Waiting there until they’re fed,
The poultry sounds are not to beg,
But just to announce they’ve laid an egg.

Some would say that our life style
Is way behind; at least a mile!
We’re seldom seen down at the store,
But healthy food? Who has more?

The clothes we wear, we’ve worn a while;
They have to go that “second mile,”
But they are warm, and they look nice;
We tell ourselves that they’ll suffice.

Our car is old, but it is good;
It’ll last a while; or, I think it should.
We’re neither rich, nor look that way,
But give ear, 99, to what I say:

High dollar missiles don’t keep the peace;
Dollars we invest in the poor’s release,
To teach them to earn a better life style,
Will clothe us in the “Lord’s Second Mile”.

No nation rules the earth by force,
So God has portrayed another course:
Let’s deny ourselves and take up His Cross,
Before our pride turns us all into dross.

Of all God’s gifts, I’ve found not another
That thrills me like the love of a brother!
Let’s reach out as long as there’s life,
And by so reaching, decrease human strife!

When neighbors ask, “How goes 99?”
We don’t want to say, “The World is Mine,”
But “Heaven’s hosts behold with mirth,
And exclaim aloud, ‘PEACE ON EARTH’!”