LEAVE THEM WITH THE LORD

I met an aged friend at the store uptown today,
She said there were so many for whom we need to pray.
I asked her to name them, which wrinkled her cute brow,
And she confessed in shame, “I can’t remember now”.

How can we pray for friends, but can’t recall their name?
Would such a nameless prayer reach up to God the same
As prayer which mentioned one by one all persons on the list,
Meticulously seeing that not a soul was missed?

I knew that lady very well; no one her faith could doubt;
I’m sure as she brought friends to God, nobody was left out;
And having turned her heart to God, the angels could record
That this great soul had brought her friends and left them with the Lord.

So God knows each of them; He sees their every need;
He touches their infirmity, and they are truly freed;
So there was not a reason for her to feel ashamed,
For through her prayer obedience they were already named.

HEAL MY HATE, LORD

December 31, 2001

Sixty years with one sweet mate,
But now she's gone and won't return!
A silent, aching, burning hate,
Deep in my heart I now discern!

I'm grateful for the years she gave;
Her loving, laughing, lifting ways
So often rose to seek and save
A multitude from darker days.

I was first among that crowd
She magnetized toward joy and peace,
As something in me cried aloud,
"In Dorothy's love I've found release!"

What I hate is this long wait
From now until I too shall stand
Within that massive pearly gate
To grasp again her loving hand.

She always said, "If I go first,
I'll count it compliment to me
If another heals your thirst
For the love we two now see."

Could even God so bless me twice,
And reproduce a Dorothy Dear
To give me love and good advice,
As Dorothy did while she was here?

Someone said, "When God made you,
He threw away that Orion mold."
So I suppose, for Dorothy too
The same sad truth is bound to hold.

So God, I’m here on bended knee;
So weak, so tired and full of pain;
So please just keep on telling me
That my sad loss is Dorothy's gain.

And keep me open to the love
That by your word might come my way;
For all good gifts come from above
To heal my hate of this sad day.

THE NEW AMERICAN WORD

December 28, 2001

Of all the gifts that Santa has brought,
There is none that counts so much for naught,
As this one named by a brand new word:
Santa has brought me a case of the gird!

Christmas dainties all stacked on the table,
And here I am, eating more than I'm able,
Destructing that muscle, the stomach's small door,
As my stomach cries out, "I can't eat more!"

And sure enough the cookies back through it
As my taste buds say, "Eat more; you can do it!"
I listen to them, which is simply absurd,
And so, here I am with a case of the gird!

So acid comes back, along with the cookie,
Saying, "Boy, Oh Boy! I'll eat this rookie!"
My poor esophagus cries out in remorse,
As minute by minute I get more hoarse!

What kind of friends would bring all this stuff,
Which pampers my ego, but makes me feel tough!
I'll package this stuff, like a wise ol' bird,
Return it for New Years, and give them the gird!

CHEERS IN TEARS

It’s time again for Christmas Cheer,
But as we close two thousand one
I find upon my cheek a tear
Which surely weighs at least a ton.

For she who made of me a poet,
Dancing, singing, in my heart,
Though she’s with God, and I know it,
Physically we are apart!

Lonely nights like this are tough;
It seems that they will never end,
And even memories are rough,
Recalling lover, confidant, friend.

But - leaving me, she left a gift,
Framed in words so strong and kind;
Words that give a constant lift:
“Press on, Dear Oj, with strength and mind.”

So God, receive this Christmas Gift,
A gift You long have loaned to me,
This soul who always gave a lift,
Wherever need should chance to be.

You gave your Son; I give my wife,
Christmas gifts to heaven and earth,
Both leading to Eternal Life,
Through her death, and by His birth.

I’m sure the angels now rejoice
As Dorothy joins that heavenly throng,
And blends with theirs her alto voice,
Help Somebody” is her song.

May angels then sing loud and clear
That Jesus Christ, Our Lord, is born,
And grant me grace that I may hear
My Dorothy’s voice this Christmas morn.

ACCORDING TO GOD’S PROMISE

Holy Spirit, speak to me; give me truth and set me free;
Open wide my eyes to see who you want me now to be.
Across the years I’ve walked the walk, but ne’er so well as I could talk;
Forgive those times when I have balked; Please change my talk to godly walk.

True trial is here; no crowds to cheer;
No congregation filled with fear as they see deadly sin appear,
Or speak in faith their glad “Amens” as you forgive their many sins,
Transforming them from “outs” to “ins” as once again your Spirit wins.

That fellowship of godly folk, to whom your spirit often spoke,
Could well my sullen soul provoke to bear with power that “holy yoke”
Which sumoned me to sacrifice, to bear the pain, to pay the price,
To show His love and good advise to ill informed as well as wise.

But passing now that four score years, I seldom hear those holy cheers
Resounding in my failing ears or see glad faces through dim tears.
Less and less I’m called to preach; moving in is my outreach;
Still, at times, I get to teach, though haltingly and slow of speech.

My Helpmate too is growing old; before her duties, not so bold,
As she still tries to keep the fold as well and warm as of old.
So shall we join Old Jeremiah and be known as woeful “Crier”
Or shall we look a great deal higher, and listen to that Holy Lyre?

The harp that makes melodious strum of glorious things yet to come,
Of “House not made with hands” for some, who grasped by faith one holy crumb
Of that SWEET BREAD, the bread of life, which gives us ear in any strife
To be God’s two, both man and wife, as we prepare for THAT NEW LIFE!.

A life where “Old Things pass away”; precisely what God has to say,
“Where all our night is turned to day” while “God’s candle lights the way”;
A life “where old things turn to new” while angels sing along with you.
“Many called, but chosen - few!” By faith there’s room for us - YOU TOO!

A LEGAL NECKIN' PARTY!

July 1, 2001

Ain't had no outside neckin' party since wed to my sweet bride;
I'd frown on such a thing and am way too old beside;
But Doctor Shari grabbed hold my neck on Monday afternoon;
An' 'fore she's through I thought fer shore I was about to swoon!

She popped that thing a time or two when I was still face down,
And then she rolled me over and really went to town!
She grabbed a hold of my bald head and turned my neck to rubber,
Then cracked that worn-out atlas 'till I was 'bout to blubber!

Then stood me up and smilin' said, "You'll feel much better now!"
I reeled on out across the hall and wondered to myself, "Just how!"
But fact o' matter, I am much better, a mystery to me;
And I shore hope when I go back she's still got that recipe.

WE SHALL LIVE ALSO

February 15, 2001

Now if Christ is preached as raised from the dead,
How could man get the thought in his head
That God in his Goodness would not raise us too,
And be so loveless as not to raise you?

If Christ was not raised our preaching is vain,
Our faith is not faith, but faith that we feign;
And we have dared to misrepresent God
As we lead others on the false path we trod.

If Christ is not raised, believers have perished
In spite of belief which they truly cherished;
And those who have died have fallen asleep
In a promise of Christ which his Father can't keep.

But, in fact, Christ has been raised from the dead;
We can believe all the Apostle has said,
For the Spirit affirms that Christ is alive;
By this affirmation our faith we derive.

It is not by works, or by human merit,
But by that soft voice of God's Holy Spirit
That we are assured of that empty grave
Reserved for ourselves by Him who can save.

So believe, my friend; open wide your heart;
Entertain no thought that God will depart
From that promise He made through His only Son,
To raise us from death when this life is done.

BASED ON PHILIPPIANS 1:3-11

We thank our God in remembrance of you,
And we pray to Him you remember us too,
As together we make these expressions of joy
For the coming of Christ, God’s own precious Boy.

I’m thankful you join in the gospel of peace,
That Word of the Lord that grants us release
From the day of our hearing to this glorious now.
By faith in His coming, together we bow.

We’re sure that He who began our good works
Will protect us from places where sin often lurks,
And bring to completion the day of our Lord
The promise he makes in His wonderful Word.

It is right to feel this way about you,
As the Spirit of Christ comes now to renew
The commitment we feel down deep in our hearts
As he gives us grace to play our parts.

May God’s Great Gift at Christmas Time
Make bells of peace and joy combine
And celebrate our faith and joy
As we proclaim the Magnificat Boy.

WELCOMING A NEW PRESIDENT

December 8, 2000

Yes, a simple mule
Is a very useless tool.
Even Mr. Elephant
Will really have to grunt
To keep our stocks and bonds
Out of sticky, stagnant ponds.

So move on, Mr. Gore;
You ain't the man no more!
C'mon, Mr. Bush;
Give Uncle Sam that push
To bring the things about
That democrats have talked about.

The talkin' time is gone;
It's time those things get worked upon.
We need a man as president
To fill the task for which he's sent:
TO LEAD BOTH PARTIES AS THOUGH ONE
UNTIL THEY GET YOUR PROMISE DONE!!

FLY FOLLY

January 23, 2000

A fly, buzzing long on a window pane,
Giving all it's got without any gain,
Reminds me of we who do quite the same
As we struggle for power, wealth and fame.

It sees through the glass great promise out there,
With trees and flowers and fresh air to spare;
But its eyes are focused where it cannot go;
It’s heart says, “Go”, but the pane says, “No!”

There’s a wide open door at few feet behind,
A short detour, for a wide open mind;
But the fly buzzes on, using all its strength,
Counting no hours of its life’s short length.

It sees what it wants but cannot attain,
Just because of a fly-tracked pane.
Look around, little fly; there’s a much better way
Than a glass impasse in your life’s short day.

If the way seems closed twixt you and your goal,
Examine that way ‘til you find the right hole.
Don’t wear out your wings on a glass impasse
Because you are focused on flowers and grass!

Roadblocked paths are not short ways;
They use up our time; they steal our days;
So learn from the fly, and look for a door
Before you, like this fly, lie dead on the floor.