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.