TO MY SISTER

December 24, 2002

Hi, purty lady with the injured paw!
How's our usually fast movin' maw?
First she puts a patch on her eye,
Lookin' mightily like ol' Captain Bly;
And then before she can set down and rock,
Ol' Sawbone's got 'er agin on the block!
What a way to rest through this Season;
Want me to give ya a much better reason?

Take me, fer instance at age eighty two,
And little better off than Robert and you!
My heart sez, "Git"; but my legs sez, "No!"
It gits harder and harder to git up and go!
So I do what I can, then set down and rest;
I reckon after all that plan is the best'
But, Honey, you know that I'm only teasin'
"Cause I really aint got no suggestible reason.

'Cept that wise men rest at a livestock stall
When it cradles a king born to rule over all!
I reckon that He never meant us to worry,
To chase the loose ends and be in a hurry,
So maybe a slit wrist and a patch on yer eye
Will give ya some time to gaze at the sky
And praise the Good Lord fer all that He's done;
What better to do with our race so near run?

BE SURE WE SEE YOUR SERIOUS SIDE

Our world needs the jokester with his laughter and his bluff;
With the greatest sense of humor life is serious enough.
Facial muscles need the workout that a sense of humor brings;
So, in the midst of trouble let’s be sure our soul still sings1
The world will quickly turn away from him who never laughs,
Who never sees the funny side but simply grieves or chafes;
But if the words we speak to men are to abide;
We must be sure the world can see we have a serious side.

Great thoughts are often given us right behind a funny word,
For laughter gains attention through which our thoughts are heard,
And though we think the speaker is simply blowing smoke,
He may well be quite serious by telling us his joke!
He may be roasting or be toasting concepts he lightly chides,
But either way what we say eternally abides;
So help us, Lord, as we speak, always to reside
In a balanced sense of humor that sees the serious side.

WHEN THE GREAT MOMENT HAS GONE

December 14, 2002

When the Star of Bethlehem is packed in its tray,
Just waiting there ‘til next Christmas day;
When angels are folded in soft paper wraps,
Not to be touched for a whole year perhaps;
When candles, re-pointed, are placed in their box
Beside a sheep, a donkey an ox,
Our thoughts then start to fasten upon
“What do we do when this Moment is gone?”

When the wedding is over and the guests gone away,
And fatigue has set in to end our great day;
When the honeymoon passes and we’ve come back home,
And life is without it’s bubbles and foam;
When the house is in order and we’ve gone back to work
There’s a question that comes with a strange little quirk.
And sits on our hearts like a huge old stone,
“What do we do when this Moment is gone?”

When Christ fills us with love’s dominion,
As he did in the life of Simeon;
When God’s Spirit turns us about
And life now takes a whole new route;
When others are more than simply friends
Employed toward our own personal ends,
Again we come to ponder upon
“What do we do when this Moment is gone?”

When love moves our lives toward days with less sin
And we feel all renewed and cleansed from within;
When joy and peace abide in the heart
As the Holy Spirit does His great part
By letting us know that Jesus is Lord,
Not kings, or queens, or the modern day sword1
Then there is an answer we count upon;
For we know what to do when the Moment is gone.

GOOSE GRACE II

December 6, 2002

Sixteen degrees and still as a mouse!
A perfect day to stay in the house,
But animals are calling and that quite loudly,
So I walk on out with shoulders back proudly.

Milk in the buckets to feed baby calves,
Each gallon divided exactly in halves,
Nurse bays opened and the babies shoved in;
They'll climb up your back without a nurse pen!

Plastic buckets with nipples in a row;
Stand back and watch those little calves go!
Slurping and sucking 'til no milk left,
Then they look at me as a calf bereft!

Feed mama ewe with her tiny little lamb,
Then ewes in waiting and the big old ram;
Two buckets for steers and one for the cows,
And then with icy fingers I head for the house.

But wait, there are chickens and rabbits to feed;
In sixteen degrees they too are in need;
But goodness! These fingers and the tips of my toes!
I think they are colder than the end of my nose!

And just as I walk away from the barn,
Mother goose calls out, "I'm ready for corn!"
She slept all night on the ice-covered pond,
And with that poor goose I feel such a bond!

Last Spring she and gander led goslings around,
But the goslings are gone and no gander is found.
She is Canadian with black and white head,
Still stately and strong though "Daddy" is dead.

So as I sprinkled her corn on the ice,
It seemed that my God gave me advice:
"Stand stately and strong though cold and alone,
For I'm planning to bring you again to your own."