THE PEARL OF GREAT PRICE

December 8, 2003

Like the merchant of old in the book of Matthew
I have sought for a pearl and so have you,
Having no idea where on earth to look,
Much like the merchant in God’s holy book.

Neither of us were aware of our search;
We simply sought comfort at Resurrection Church,
For we both had loaned our Pearls to the Lord
And for comfort drew near to where comfort was stored.

How could we know that angels above
Would touch our friendship and change it to love,
That God in his wisdom, with a beautiful Girl
Would touch her sweet heart, and make it my pearl?

Or that He too would do likewise for me,
And by this great miracle set us both free?
But the fact that fulfills and makes life so nice
Is we both feel in love with a Pearl of Great Price.

CUDDLE KIDS

Is the reason that our love is soft and supple
Because we have become such a cuddle couple?
Or have we become such a cuddle couple
Because our love is so very soft and supple?

I guess it’s the question of the chicken or the egg,
Which came first, I do not dare to beg
But I do dare to beg
When we leave off either chicken or the egg!

Our cuddle is a seal of something very real,
And love so very real deserves a solid seal;
So as we move together toward that seal
Let us be assured God loves what is real.

If God loves our love, who cannot? Your Cuddle Kid

A WIDOWER’S MITE

Sometimes I wish I’d made more money
Preaching in small towns;
For gifts I give seem down right funny
In your financial ups and downs.

I owe much more than I can give,
I so regret I have to say,
But my small mite may help you live
To help some student on the way.

VonEnde taught me how to think,
Though music was his field;
Steinman taught me at the brink
Of quitting, not to yield.

English profs cleaned up my talk
And gave me self-esteem;
Science profs helped me to walk
In fields I had not seen.

Fellow class mates let me in,
As though I were their age;
Some seemed to know where I had been,
And thought of me as sage.

McMurry made a man of me,
Plus message it installed;
I recommend one come and be
At McMurry, when God has called.

So here’s my widow’s mite,
It is not all my living;
It may help me in eating light,
And help me feel I’m giving.

FUNK JUNKING

August 22, 2003

How sad when our thoughts go where we have been
And gaze at our failures, mistakes and sin,
Oblivious of joy and grace we live in
Because our God forgave where we’ve been.

May grace abound and say who we are;
Let us like “Wise Men” follow the star
That led us at last to cross that bar
Between who we were and who we now are.

When memories surround us and bring on a funk,
Our boat of salvation well nigh sunk,
May God’s forgiveness unload that junk
And show us how quickly He lessens that funk.

To feel funky is human without any doubt;
In sadness we’re prone to just stop and pout
But when, by His help, we kick that funk out
We function much better, without any doubt.

I know where you are, my wonderful friend;
Oh the times I feel beat and terribly chagrined,
But I’m here to tell you, “This funk will end”.
Because we both know Jesus, our Friend.

WHAT IS MAN THAT THOU ART MINDFUL OF HIM?

August 12, 2003

We are the people that we’ve known,
The books that we have read,
The pictures we’ve been shown,
The truths that we have said;
The genes that we’ve been given,
The hardships that have pained us,
The hopes by which we’re driven,
And joys that entertained us.

We are the God we have believed in,
The grace He granted us;
By faith we have received Him;
His Word enchanted us;
His Spirit is our teacher,
A witness always known
His prophet is our preacher,
Through whom He calls His own.

Our life is mostly gift;
Not much that we have made;
We find our greatest lift
When we give others aid.
So since God models giving,
The greatest gift His Son,
The grandest kind of living
Honors what He’s done.

So, “What is man,” we ask,
“That God knows he is here?”
He is appointed to a task
In this and every year.
He is God’s hands upon this earth,
God’s voice upon the air,
Appointed from his birth
To speak and be God’s Truth,
EVERYWHERE!

STAND UP, AMERICA!

August 11, 2003

Stand up, America; Stand up and Fight!
Why sit we silent, awaiting endless night?
God has shown the way; provided perfect light
As He sent his only Son, demonstrating right.

So why sit we here, subjecting people’s minds
To movies, media, videos of such salacious kinds?
Making people human side-shows, while we wear moral blinds;
Do we not know the nation goes, as go the people’s minds?

Nations never have gone straight by watching crooked sticks
Demonstrating violence and perverted sexual tricks,
Teaching them to lie their way out of any fix;
None of which Truth would call "character building bricks"!

Let us Stand and speak our views to sponsors of these shows;
It is our right, and duty too, to guide the way our nation goes;
To undermine the minds of men makes sponsors into foes,
Partners to Ben Laden, and all who wish us woes.

Nor are we any better as we sit silent here,
Watching our mores decline throughout each passing year;
It’s time to speak our minds and let the nations hear
That we want good and wholesome shows that we can all revere.

For every man turns out to be like thoughts within his heart,
We cannot bask in things we see and hope to play another part,
So parent, pastor, teacher, friend, it’s time for us to start
Providing our whole nation with improved learning art.

CELESTIAL BIRTHDAYS

July twenty-two, October twenty-two;
Which of these great birthdays now belong to you?
July made you eighty-four; October you’ll be two,
So happy birthday on these days that God will me through.

I’m not so sure that earthly birth is celebrated there,
But surely heaven’s angels celebrate with care
The day that saints like you, My Dear, were wafted in the air,
Translated to the heavens to fill your heavenly chair.

I hope the angels let you help them as they bake your cake,
Not the kind we eat down here; the kind the angels make;
I’ve watched you use ingredients they use when they bake,
So I know heavenly baking will be a step that you can take.

Two cups plus two teaspoons of GOLD MEDAL FAITH,
For “by faith the cake is saved”, as the Master saith!
One and one half cups sweet memories God has given
Of times He sweetened life and moved you on toward Heaven.

Three and one half teaspoons of goodness in disguise
That much like baking powder makes our tempers rise,
And then a dash of self-control which acted as if salt
That seemed to make the picture whole and help reaction halt.

One half cup anointing oil that smoothes the whole thing out
And makes the batter taste so good it makes the angels shout!
And then a cup of human kindness, the milk of godly love.
That helps us see our frailties that we must rise above.

At last one teaspoon spice of life, the flavor we desire,
That makes the cake so nice to eat it sets our souls on fire.
And then stir in three golden eggs, the symbol of new birth
That made you part of heaven and helped you leave the earth.

So, are the candles on your cake four score and four, or two?
To me, it makes no difference, for more and more, like you,
I see a thousand years from now will be as but a day,
So, as I wait to join you there, let time go as it may.

CELESTIAL BIRTHDAY

August 6, 2003

July twenty-two, October twenty-two;
Which of these great birthdays now belongs to you?
July made you eighty-four, October you'll be two,
So happy birthday on these days that God has seen me through.

I'm not so sure that earthly birth is celebrated there,
But surely heaven's angels celebrate with care
The day that saints like you, My Dear, were wafted through the air,
Translated to the heavens to fill your heavenly chair,.

I hope the angels let you help them as they bake your cake,
Not the kind we eat down here: the kind the angels make;
I watched you use ingredients they use when they bake,
So I know heavenly baking will be a step that you can take.

Two cups plus two tablespoons of GOLD MEDAL FAITH,
For "by faith the cakes is saved," as the Master saith!
One and one half cups sweet memory God has given
Of times He sweetened life and moved you on toward Heaven,.

Three and one half teaspoons of goodness in disguise
That sometimes like the baking powder made your temper rise,
And then a dash of self-control which acted as if salt
That seemed to make the picture whole and help reaction halt.

One half cup anointing oil that smoothes the whole thing out
And makes the batter taste so good it makes the angels shout!
And then a cup of human kindness, the milk of godly love,
That helps us see our frailties that we must rise above.

And then one teaspoon spice of life, the flavor we desire,
That makes the cake so nice to eat it sets our souls on fire.
At last, stir in three golden eggs, the symbol of new birth,
That made you part of heaven and helped you leave the earth.

So, are the candles on your cake four score and four, or two?
To me, it makes no difference, for more and more, like you,
I see a thousand years from now will be as but a day,
So, as I wait to join you there, let time go as it may.

DOROTHY'S VISION

August 2, 2003

Too hot to go outside and work;
Too boring here inside;
Lonely hours around me lurk,
Reminding me my Sweetheart died.
I know to think in this sad vein
Will do no good, and do much harm;
It will at last drive me insane
If I don't find the Master's arm.

Somehow I find it hard to pray,
To tell you, Lord, just how I feel,
I'm prone to grieve and waste the day,
But what I should do now is kneel.
Perhaps You'll help me word my prayer,
Give thanks to You for many years
That my sweet wife was always there;
Perhaps those thanks might dry my tears.

I feel it's wrong to sit and grieve;
That's not what she would have me do;
So why these thoughts that so deceive;
Hang over me, and make me blue?
Take my mind, Dear Lord, I pray;
Rebuild in it an attitude
That melts away this grief today,
And fills my soul with gratitude.

For family she left to me
I praise your Holy Name;
For works she often helped me see,
That moved me toward what I became;
For love she lavished with no bounds,
Often at such sacrifice;
These all should surely be good grounds
For heeding her last good advice.

With loving eyes, on her death bed,
No sign of fear, or harsh regret,
She searched my soul and calmly said,
"Rebuild our life; you're not through yet."
So why should I sit here and cry,
When she foresaw a brighter day;
Should not I retrain my eye
To see her vision as I pray?

EQUITANT LEAVES

July 29, 2003

Like equitant leaves God’s wonderful Word
Straddles my grief stricken soul,
Words more healing than others I’ve heard
Like fresh falling rain, flood my soul.

Their message has been here all the time;
I know; I’ve preached it for years;
Though others have found that message sublime,
Somehow it failed to dry my tears.

“Heal thyself”, says my mind,
To mock and question what I believe,
But equitant leaves so gentle and kind.
Say, “Not what we say, but what we receive“.

I’m sure those words which flow through my heart
Are words God’s Spirit puts there;
As pastor, to speak them, I feel is my part;
Surely grief healing must be my fair share!

To speak and receive are two different things,
It’s possible to speak of gifts not known,
But oh how the choir of heaven sings
When the gift we describe becomes our own!

It’s then that the equitant arms of God
Surround like an Iris new faith as it grows,
That our loved one no more under sod,
Sings with the saints wherever she goes.

Once the equitant task is done,
The inner leaves can stand on their own;
So equitant leaves, their victory won,
Wither and fall, as the Iris has shown.

Then let this selfish self-pity I feel
Fall like the equitant leaves of the flower,
As comfort I seek, become very real;
Makes equitant leaves with comforting power.

RECALLING WITH DOROTHY ON FACING LIFE "DEMANDMENTS"

July 22, 2003

Sweetheart, do you recall what Daddy Reynolds said,
My timid soul so filled with fear
When God's clear call so firmly led
Me to preach, that more might hear
The Word He laid upon my heart?
Sometimes a word hard to believe;
Yet God plainly said, "Do your part
For whosoever will receive."

"Just roll your shoulders back," Dad said,
"Trusting God to flood your soul;
Preach the Word as you feel led;
God's Holy Spirit will make you whole;
By faith, the message, plus the man,
Will call us sinners from our ways.
For by God's grace, He always can
Turn tougher times to brighter days."

Is this not true of this long wait
That always seems to make me sad?
Am I condemned to this mean fate
In which all days seem so bad,
Or should I now "roll shoulders back",
Renounce the darkness of these days,
Refuse to think of what I lack,
Refresh my heart with godly praise?

Surround myself with positive friends,
Who shun the darkness as I do,
Who fix their eyes on happy ends,
Be to their calling, always true?
Of such friends I've found a few,
Who laugh with me, and share my tears;
Along with them, I will renew
The joy I've known across the years.

Sad 'twould be should I bemoan
That you have moved into a "Town"
Where no one ever walks alone,
Or feels that life has let them down.
I will rejoice in your great gift,
And share your blessing, all my life,
For what could be a greater lift
Than knowing God cares for my wife.

THAT SAVING BREEZE

June 27, 2003

We are now at the time of the year
When the sun seems to be far too near!
For the heat that one sees
Brings him down to his knees,
And he hopes, as he prays, God will hear.

But at times when we are without ease,
When we have all but worn out our knees,
When we've given all we've got,
Think the Lord hears us not,
We are met with His one saving breeze!

What a time to reflect upon life,
And ask God why He called home my wife,
Left me here all alone,
Without her as my own,
'Tis the worst I have known in human strife.

But at last I arise from my knees,
For my God and my wife brought my ease
As His Spirit spoke and said,
"Orion, Dorothy is not dead!
And with me, sends to you, this saving breeze."

So that breeze blows across my bleeding heart,
Puts in place that which once was blown apart,
Puts a spring in my step,
Fills my soul with holy pep,
And once more she helps me make a start.

REFLECTION ON MY ACHING HEART

June 19, 2003

The reason that I mentioned first
The ache that's in my heart
Is that it aches far the worst,
And seems to make the others start.

So I must follow her advice,
"Fix my thoughts on other's need",
Toss away the heat and ice,
So healing help can then proceed.

By His own pain our Savior grew
In human heart and mind,
To be the God that we all knew,
And sought to be His kind.

So if our Lord endured the Cross,
And counted it but gain,
How can I then turn and toss
And criticize my pain???

ACHING HEART

June 18, 2003

Aching shoulder, aching knee,
Aching back, and aching heart.
It's hard for me to even see
How on earth to make a start.

For many years you soothed my pain
With gentle hands while we talked,
Or if massage appeared in vain,
You listened while we walked.

And sparingly you gave advice,
Which always seemed so wise to me;
It did far more than heat, than ice,
To cure my aches and set me free.

But now, at night, when all alone,
There are those aches I cannot reach;
Heart, muscle, joint and bone;
All have aches I can't impeach.

I knew full well throughout our years
That when life's end caused us to part,
That missing you would bring these tears;
But thought that God would heal my heart.

I guess He has in many ways;
Sometimes I'm weak; sometimes I'm strong;
There are some good, and some bad days,
And other days just move along.

But this I know, which cheers me so,
That every day moves toward that time
When God tells me, "IT'S TIME TO GO!"
A perfect ending for life's rhyme.

I'll see you then, in all your glory,
A bride adorned to meet her man,
Unfolding that eternal story,
Which man can't write, but God Can.

And so the question comes to me,
As I await that golden day,
"Who would you now have me be,
Have me do; have me say?"

Your answer floats upon the breeze:
"Reach out to others now in grief,
And God will give you much more ease,
So, share with them your firm belief."

MY TELEPHONE AND ME

April 12, 2003

I'm always dreaming dreams,
And life is never what it seems;
Or do those dreams divine
Conditions I don't own as mine?

Eighteen months I've lived alone,
My closest friend the telephone;
Which causes me to gravitate
Toward looking for another mate.

But as I think of who I am,
I contemplate the awful jam
I would cause a mate to own
If she displaced my telephone.

The dream that came to me last night
Well may touch upon her plight,
Should some brave soul take on my care
Without much God-directed prayer!

Waiting at the altar, my knee was killing me!
My aching back was close behind, and yet I still could see
Two bridesmaids and my bride, dressed in nurse attire,
Walking down the aisle with cheeks of burning fire!

The bouquets which they carried were not flowers, well arranged,
But all this scent and beauty they subtly had exchanged
For bottles tied in clusters, which they humbly would present,
Which looked and smelled, without a doubt, like Watkins Liniment!

To comfort and to counsel I know a mate must do,
But bringing bottled comfort to the altar is something really new!
Awakened from my dream, with just another groan,
I recommitted one more time to my trusty telephone.

WHY THESE TEARS?

March 15, 2003

If I believe my Loved One lives,
The very hope the scripture gives,
Then why these tears upon my cheeks,
That rend my soul for weeks and weeks?

Are they wholly self-concern?
Does my soul refuse to turn
Toward Him who with His every breath
Proclaimed our life; denied our death?

If I have lived the selfless way,
Guided by what scriptures say
And by looking at my Savior,
Why this "All is Lost" behavior?

Where is that enthusiasm
That so often spanned the chasm
Of unknown, uncertain ways
To end in glad triumphant days?

Am I to say, "Without her hand
It is impossible to stand
Against the foes we once defeated,
Before which now I have retreated?

Was it her hand that always led?
Or by God's Spirit were we fed?
If WE ate the Bread of Life,
Can I not stand without my wife?

God's Spirit seems to say to me
That I can be what He can see;
That if my eyes are set on Him,
The way I grope will be less dim.

So, Father God, here am I;
Lift my face toward Heaven's sky;
No more my call let me defer;
In full response, I'll walk with her.

HOME FROM THE PARTY

March 5, 2003

Again I saw my precious wife,
Not alive, but in a dream;
Again she dulled the painful strife
That renders lives not what they seem.

This dream flashed back across the years:
My youngest child was just fifteen,
An age of laughter, and sometimes tears,
Always child, yet still a queen.

The party over, she said, "Dad,
Let's go home and talk to Mom;
I want to share the fun I've had,
A junior in this senior prom".

Mom, a teacher, tired from grading,
Was asleep on our wide bed,
And gently, not her sleep invading,
Dad laid down at her feet, Glenda at her head.

What comfort those sweet feet gave
As I drifted off to sleep;
How many times they'd rushed to save
From pains that cause strong men to weep!

Her body sleeps and endless sleep,
Which none can say about her soul,
But here's a thought I'll always keep,
Her soul will always make me whole.

And so I know that even now
Angel feet run to our cause,
And I know that she somehow,
In our behalf, gives heaven pause:

She entreats God, in his great love,
To witness pain our sad hearts feel,
And by that love, from heaven above,
His kindest comfort to reveal.

MOM'S BREAD

January 27, 2003

My Darling Wife is with me while I make the bread,
For in each step of baking, I recall just what she said:
Three cups nice warm water in a large mixing pan,
Blend one half cup sugar until clear if you can,
One tablespoon of yeast, sprinkled on the water,
Then cover up the pan to keep the water hotter.

Sift four cups of flour, and have it there all ready
To spread it on the fresh bloomed yeast, an stir in soft and steady
Until the sponge is smooth as cream, then cover with a cloth,
Slide it in the slight warmed oven, and turn the oven off.
Thirty minutes in that oven will help the sponge to rise,
Then when you take it out, a fluffy sponge meets your eyes.

Have seven cups of sifted flour in a pan standing by;
A quarter cup of oil, and four teaspoons of salt also nigh.
Mix with salted oil one cup water, nice and warm,
Stir into batter with a mixer, for that will save your arm.
Then with a large wooden spoon, stir the flour in,
Until the sponge is good and stiff, then knead it there and then.

Continue with your kneading until the sponge seems right,
And if it starts to feeling sticky, sprinkle flour, just a mite.
When the sponge feels soft and spongy, no longer clinging to your fingers,
Back into the oven, where it for thirty minutes lingers;
Repeat this process one more time, before you cut the sponge in loaves,
Knowing when the bread is done, you'll have the proudest of all stoves.

Coffee cans with bacon grease, heated nice and hot,
Make a better baking pan than any store has got.
Be sure to roll the grease around, greasing all the sides,
Thus greasing sponge upside and down, as rising loaf abides.
Back into the oven for an hour, or more,
And while the bread is rising, wash the dishes, sweep the floor!

When the sponge then tops the can, looking soft and white,
Set the pans upon the counter; for baking, it is right.
Turn the oven to 450, and when the light is gone,
Set the loaves all back in, and turn the timer on.
Ten minutes at 450 makes the loaves nice and brown;
Set the time for 24 and turn the oven down.

Three twenty five is what Mom said, and she was always right;
Those loaves come out smelling good, and what a glorious sight!
Slip the loaves out of the cans and on the cooling trays;
I'll guarantee you'll count this day among our better days!
This bread Mom taught me how to make keeps my body whole,
But bread like this, which she still sends, is healing for my soul.

I DONE GOT THERE!

January 18, 2003

Mary, do you remember Dad's old poem...

"Be the task great or small,
Do it well or not at all."

Well here is my line:

Be the task great or small;
When we daily trip and fall;
When cows butt us into their stall.
We're too old to do it all;

Then we'd best to step aside,
Before we lose too much hide!
There to rest, write, reside
And enjoy life's changing tide.

I done got there!