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.