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.

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.