Thursday, October 29, 2009

Sharing my web album photos

For those who might be interested, I'm making it as easy as I know how for you to see my web albums in the form of a slide show. It could prove to be lengthy. Hope you have a few minutes to spare. If not, bookmark my blog and return when you can. ENJOY!

Monday, October 26, 2009

Another life lesson

Yesterday was a beautiful, early fall day and the afternoon hours were simply perfect for raking leaves.  I had already finished the back yard.  Considering that I have no trees in that part of my yard, one may not consider the labor required to accomplish such a feat as anything to brag about.  Such is not the case…Trust me!  My neighbor has five trees in his yard.  The prevailing wind direction is such that when his leaves begin to drop off, said leave float on the exiting winds and end up in my yard.  Complaining about it to him or anyone else would gain me nothing at all, so I complain to myself while I’m raking and picking them up.  There was little wind to speak of so my efforts could be appreciated for at least a day or until the next weather front approaches our area.

Maureen and Gail were busy downstairs, pulling storage containers out from under the crawlspace below the living room and kitchen; going through them, sorting the contents into what would be kept and what would be given to the Veteran’s for pick-up on Tuesday, the day after my Birthday on the 26th of October.  See how I worked that hint into this composition? I don’t expect any gifts from anyone as a result but I will not refuse any that are offered.

It was a little after the noon hour when these two young lads, approximately eleven or twelve years of age in my estimation, came up the driveway and then to the front door to ring the doorbell.  I was sitting on one of the couches in the living room going through several plastic tubs of old, family snapshots, choosing ones I wanted to scan into this computer for digital safe keeping and use as blog fodder later.  I called out to them through the open front window, asking what they wanted.  The bolder of the two came to the window and asked if I wanted my leaves raked and bagged.  “How much do you charge”  I asked?  With a shrug of the shoulders and a thoughtful expression on his face, the lad said “Oh! A couple of bucks.”

“A couple of bucks each”  I asked?  “Yes Sir” he replied.  I liked that.  A respectful young fellow trying to make a few dollars on a weekend afternoon for something he wanted to purchase. They even brought their own leaf bags………But only one rake.  The other boy had a Pogo stick in his hand.  That confused me a little……and then, after I agreed to the deal, that boy started raking my leaves with his pogo stick.  I chuckled to myself.  “Kids….these days….what will they think of next.?” 

I went out to the shed, got one of my old rakes and took it around front for them to use.  They politely thanked me for it and went about raking again, only twice as fast now.  The bigger of the two lads had this awkward style of raking.  He didn’t hold the rake like he was sweeping with a broom, which in my opinion was the best way to do it.   The other boy was holding and using his rake that way.  I told that novice raker that I normally charge for giving instructions about how to use a rake and proceeded with my practical demonstration. I’m not saying he was dense or anything but he didn’t seem to be able to grasp the concept and continued doing it his way.  I watched them a few minutes and noticed that they spent equal time talking about the job and actually doing it.  That’s alright with me….I wasn’t paying them by the hour. I also noticed that they were raking leaves from all over the yard into one large pile.  I suggested to them that it might be easier to make smaller piles, for instance, using as a gauge, the distance they could reach out with the rakes from one spot, then turning in a circle until the area was clean and a smaller pile of leaves was at their feet. It suddenly occurred to one of the boys that they used that technique recently while doing another yard.

I left them to it and went back inside to the picture task.  It wasn’t long before one of them came to the window and suggested that he needed to go home for more bags.  I told him I had some bags they could use.  He said “Thanks” and went back to work.  A half hour later, I looked out to check their progress.  They had two large piles and several smaller ones here and there and none of the areas connected or joined one another to form a large clean area of the yard. I suggested that they might consider starting to bag some of the leaves and place the bags along side of the garage, behind the large trash container that was there. 

Checking again later, I noticed they were chatting with two of their friends that happened by with skateboards and when they saw me watching them, the boys with the skateboards excused themselves and left so the fellows could get on with their work.  I took them both a bottle of cold, carbonated, flavored, zero calorie water.  They thanked me and started trying to open them.  One could and one couldn’t.  Finally, with the help of his friend, even his bottle was opened and both tried a taste.  One liked it….the other one didn’t.  They sat their drinks on the front step and went back to work, thanking me as they went.  I came back later and noticed that one had finished his drink and the other had hardly touched his.  I asked him if he wasn’t thirsty or just didn’t like it enough to keep drinking it.  His friend confessed that he didn’t drink it because he was afraid that I had put something in it. 

I could only look at them in a confused way and then asked….”Didn’t you have a difficult time opening your drink?  He nodded “Yes”  “Wasn’t that because the drink had not been opened beforehand and the protective seal was still intact?”  “Do I look like the kind of person that would try to poison young boys who were only trying to make a couple bucks raking my leaves?”  “Do you perceive me as some kind of sick-o or maniacal killer?”  “Has that been your experience with Seniors…..That they are out to get you?”  “OH PLEASE!”  I went back inside.

Later, the bolder one came to the window and informed me that his father had “TEXTED” him on his cell phone and told him to come home right away.  I took six dollars out, a five and a one dollar bill and told them they would need to split it.  I made sure I got my rake back and picked up the unappreciated drink from the front step and bid them good-bye and good luck.

I spent the next few minutes watching them argue about how they would manage to split the loot and fade away down the sidewalk.  It was a good while before I finished pondering all that I had learned from the experience.  The boy who didn't learn to hold the rake the right way from my effort to teach him, was flexing his wrist a lot too.  See what happens when you don't listen to your elders?

You know what?  I don’t think much of today’s young people’s work ethic or their idea of a contract. 

To make things worse, one of the boys returned to inform me that they “MIGHT” come back later or even tomorrow to finish the job.  I’m not going to hold my breath till then.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

You NEED to watch and listen to this special RAP

I normally NEVER listen to RAP by anyone but I'm glad I stuck with this one when it first came up.  Pay close attention to the words this creative lady is saying. 

It's longer than some might like but it's well worth the time spent hearing her out.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Look! It's a flying saucer. No! It's a Balloon that looks like a flying saucer


It seems that the whole world was holding its collective breath as the first reports began to come across TV screens.  Speaking for myself personally, when I first saw the images of that "Saucer" Flying across my wide screen in HD, I assumed that it was someone's video of a supposedly real flying saucer or at least a UFO.

Then I got the rest of the story and I'll confess, I was captivated by it.  A six year old boy crawled into the bottom of his father's storm chaser craft and by some mysterious means, the tethers that were holding it down got released and the craft rose into the heavens, the little boy on board.

I found the whole thing so interesting that I glued myself to the TV and sat there mesmerized as the story was revealed.  The helicopters that were tracking the craft did a great job of recording the whole affair so it could be shared with news broadcasters around the world.

Two hours flashed by and I was still watching.  Then it went on for another hour or two and I told myself that these news gathering people were not very good at their jobs.  Were they afraid of asking questions of the boys family?  I saw a picture of the whole family standing in front of the balloon and that craft looked different from the one the news cameras were following.  The one in the pictures looked like the little box on top had six or eight sides, sort of like a stop sign and the one which finally landed in a field way out in the boonies in Colorado appeared to have a container attached that had many more sides to it.

Then I got on this here computer and did some news searching and I found out that this boys' family had recently been featured on an episode of Wife Swap.  That's when the little light came on over my head.  I'll bet you those three children liked all the attention that got while on that show.  Fifteen minutes of fame or one half hour of fame or even one hour of fame was not enough for them.  They got their little scheming heads together and came up with a plan.  OK Falcon, you go upstairs in the attic over the garage and hide.  I and your other bother will tell anyone who asks what happened with the balloon that you crawled inside the little box on the bottom and suddenly the ropes holding it down broke and it took off with you inside.  It will be so exciting and everyone will get scared and try to find you. It will be like a gigantic game of hide and go seek.  You will be the center of attention then Falcon.  You want to do it...Huh?  OK!  Good.  Now go and hide and the game will be on.

From that point on it was like an avalanche. Once it had up a head of steam, there was no stopping it.  Then the boys got scared and there was no way any of them could tell the truth.
They would keep going until the bitter end and the end certainly did get bitter or at least, it should end bitterly and painfully but from what I hear about the boys family, they aren't big into corporal punishment.  It is said that the parents allow the boys to run wild.

See what can happen when you allow that kind of stuff to go on?

I couldn't wait to tell Maureen and Gail....See! I told you so.
I was a boy at one time in my life.  I know how them little suckers think.

How would you handle this situation if you were those boys parents?
I'd be tanning me some hides and hanging them on the shed out back.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

My time machine

I have a paper time machine, its hull is leather bound.

It takes me to the distant past, what treasures I have found.

The people all around me, never seem to mind,

The way I watch or listen in at each new place I find.

I've sat and watched a life time pass, complete from birth till death.

And marveled at the depth of truth men spoke in a single breath.

I've witness armies as they fell...I saw the world begin.

Then sped away to a future day and saw the coming end.

Nations rose and nations fell, Kingdoms flowered, grew, and died.

Then, plain as day, I found a way, to see the me inside.

The truth is, I'm like all the rest...time has changed men none.

Inside, I'm evil, cruel, corrupt...still do the things they've done.

I panicked, took my ship and fled, just left my life behind.

I flew toward some unknown world...not knowing what I'd find.

I wandered through some vast, dark void...toward a distant light.

I had to change..I knew I must, find the way that's right.

I ran into a wall of words around John 3:16.

There was no way to get around or squeeze through in between.

So over the top to Jerusalem, the Romans had all the power.

And in the midst of all that hate, I saw some true love flower.

The sacrifice...all that made me wretch inside.

I stood upon a rock strewn hill and watched an innocent die.

The truth was all He ever spread, along with love and caring.

The authorities were full of fear and thought this man too daring.

Am I a Ghoul? seems that way...I go there much too often.

Some of the time I go to a garden and stare at an empty coffin.

The power which gave Him back His life, now fuels my time machine.

And charges the pages of God's word, giving life to every scene.

Someday, time won't will cease to be.

And I won't need this time machine to set my spirit free.

The stain of war

A Patriot, with tear dimmed eyes, may cheer when death rains from the skies

And slaughters those which do contend, and stand their ground till the fatal end

Our hearts are torn when those we know, are treated harsh and tortured so

Then marched before a hateful crowd, which taunts and prods while cursing loud

Agreements made say treat them well, regardless if your life's been hell

Revenge is what our Demons crave, no mercy shown, no life we'll save

Why does war change decent men, leave an empty space where hearts had been

And blind their eyes to misery, then turn their heads while blood runs free

I hate to think, "I'm one of those", but the blood of war stains all our clothes

The Lord's Telephone

When the storms of life lash away at my soul, and it seems that the sun's gone for good

When waves of doubt wash away my foundation and weaken the ground where I stood

When my fair weather friends seek shelter, and leave me to face life alone

I still have a friend I can turn to, when I call on the Lord's telephone

His line is never busy, and it seems he is always in

He listens to every word I say, he's my only foul-weather friend

I tell Him all my troubles, my fears, my pain, my sin

He's so very understanding, He comforts me, and then

He tells me that He loves me, and soothes my troubled soul

And talks to me of Heaven, the home I've made my goal

He doesn't have call waiting, or a three minute limit on time

And God, our Holy Father, listens in on the party line

You don't need a coin to call Him, and a push-button phone's no good

Praying is what we call it, do you know Him, you easily could

It's not a one-way system, He calls me all the time

It's usually when I need Him most or have another mountain to climb

He certainly is a special friend, and I love Him more than life

He gave me this smile I wear on my face and removed all the fear and strife

He helped create the universe, with His Father and the Holy Ghost

And took away my burden of sin, for that I thank Him the most

So now I live my life for Him and try to control my will

He's done all this and more for me, but He never sends me a bill

The Lure of Love

Trembling hands reach out to a passing stranger, then quickly withdraw, the fear of pain checking them in mid-air.

Desperate eyes plead silently for a friendly glance and fear hopes no one will notice.

I hear myself speak bold words and my heart turns away at her unexpected, friendly response.

Would fate deal another painful stroke to my battered EGO, or is this the answer to my heart's prayer?

I feel old, long-dead emotions stir within and hope surges with new life.

Her face glows with the need of a companion and I wonder if it is a reflection from my own emanations.

Cruel seems life, to those seeking love, and yet, love IS the reward of a determined heart.

Endless is desire, relentless is the need, but honesty is a taskmaster whose demands seem all but impossible.

I have walked the dark, lonely corridors of deep depression; must I share that agony with another?

Possibly, her journey through life was more difficult than my own. Is pain lessened if borne by two souls, or is it multiplied by two?

I offer a half-hearted ear and thankfully, she is hesitant to pour out the bitterness which has been dammed up in her heart by regret.

Her tongue is not sharp and vindictive, but forgiving. She bears some portion of guilt and tears pool up in the corners of her eyes and then vanish away, hidden from the world like most of her painful memories.

The flush of embarrassment is upon her cheeks but I dash in and rescue her pride with a secret admittance of some long ago hurt and see her cringe at the familiar realization of a forgotten truth.

Pain is not prejudiced in its' affliction. It touches the naked nerve endings of any caring heart, tearing away at the foundations of life, caring not if life's dreams are thrown to the ground and scattered about in ones frenzied dash to escape their tormentor.

The smoke of ruin has stung the eyes which now gaze across a tiny table and each one dares to believe they see a flicker of hopes flame in the others.

Words, like fencing foils, parry and thrust at a safe distance, not to inflict a lethal lunge, but to search out sensitivity and areas where wounds are not yet healed.

A soothing ointment of caring concern is applied by a verbal swab and each, over time, will nurse the other to emotional recovery.

One does not eagerly re-engage the mortal enemy of every heart, but watch and sense for the response of welcome, alert for an ambush from the cover of feigned affection.

Two broken hearts, brought together by unseen forces, can sometimes become fused into one. Scar tissue, stronger than life's formidable foes, withstand any onslaught they may face together, until true love erases every trace of what once was.

Love does not proclaim its existence; it simply IS, and WAS, and always WILL BE.

Talking with Him

Good morning Lord, I said out loud, How warm your sun does feel

Just how you keep it hanging there, I've simply no idea

Your breeze it brought the scent of flowers, Honeysuckle and such

I love the things you've made for me and Lord I felt your touch

A leaf, it brushed against my cheek, your grass so cool and green

I lay here looking at your sky; you've created a beautiful scene

The clouds held up with unseen hands, the birds you taught to fly

A cricket sings the song you gave and a Monarch drifted by

You gave me life and gave me love, so many other wonderful things

And in return, I gave you me and this praise my heart now sings

There's just no way to out give you, and Lord you know I've tried

So little could I offer you, not even the tears I've cried

Even those result from joy, the joy you gave me on that day

The only time you ever took, you took my sins away

And now you give a day like this, after giving us your Son

I've never been so happy Lord, thanks for all you've done

Tomorrow brings another day, another chance to share

This world you've made for everyone, and a love beyond compare

Supply and Demand

When I was young, I had plenty of time and there was little or nothing to do.

Now that my time is running out, you want me to give it to you.

A great demand and a short supply make the value of time increase.

So my time becomes more and more precious just before it must cease.

The next time you ask for minute, just weigh what you're asking from me.

Even though my time is expensive, my opinions are absolutely free.

If I choose to spare you a little, consider the gift that I give.

For you'll never receive a better one, no matter the time you may live.

Spiritual Warfare

Daily life provides and endless procession of challenges, some so formidable, I am reluctant to engage them.

Wisdom is the Tactical Commander, duty calls me into the fray, and God urges me to take up weapons and join the battle.

I have known defeat many times at the hand of my enemy and some of my wounds have threatened continued existence. It is not my life's blood that seeps from these wounds, but my will and confidence, spiritual strength, and hope for the future.

I am too ashamed to turn to God in my defeat, my disgrace? To what safe place can I retreat to rest, treat my wounds and recuperate?

All soldiers know the need for peace and safety. It is the reason they fight; the reason for their sacrifice.

Greater love hath no man than this; that he lay down his life for his friends.

Youthful ignorance paints fierce faces on imaginary enemies.

For them, NOW is a time of ease.

Life casts down a gauntlet, and youth, stirred by the challenge, eagerly picks it up and slaps life's face.

But a conquered challenge is no time for boasting. The calm will be short-lived. Tomorrow comes quickly, and in its' wake, another challenge, another test, another battle.

There is no elation without risk. Mastery over any challenge provokes indifference and distain. All interest in the contest wanes and the youthful victor turns his back on the enemy in defiance, and searches tomorrow's horizon for a more worthy opponent.

Not all battles end in victory. The challenges of life are not imaginary, but youth is shortsighted and no threat to the enemy’s battle plan. The foe's forces encircle our position, his campfires burn brightly, and youth does not see the danger.

The enemy wears no identifying uniform, nor does he display his banner. He dispatches forces to infiltrate our safe havens, to influence the hearts and minds of our children. I have manned the watchtower through countless hours; spiritual eyes focused on the enemy’s position. I fear that he has passed unseen, hidden by the cloak of darkness. His assassins thrust through my own heart and I am wise to his ways. What about our youth? They are his true objective. They are tomorrow's reserves. Who will stand in the gap when we have fallen under the onslaught?

Soul Seed

A point to ponder, a solution to find, never a lull for a curious mind.

I just can't quit thinking for a moment or two; I'm not all that mental; just need something to do.

Searching for answers; perhaps you would know; from what kind of seed does a Congregation grow?

How much like a garden is our Pastor's view; people in rows, pew after pew.

But something is wrong, all the rows are not filled; was the reason bad seed or the soil not tilled?

Is the ground without water, lifeless and dry; do we only sow more to watch it all die?

Are the tall plants now standing, healthy and well; is their fruit hanging heavy?'s so hard to tell.

The wheat from the tares, the live from the dead; where he planted good seed; we find in its stead.

Spaces and gaps, bare spots galore; if we have no harvest, there's hard times in store.

What will the Lord say when crops are so lean?...I promised you Heaven; there's no in between.

You say that you trust me; Well! Where are the sheaves?'s not much to show for one who believes.

My Word is the seed from which Churches grow; in good ground or bad, your task is to sow.

I'll send one to water, the increase is mine...just follow instructions; the crop will be fine.


"REVIVAL TONIGHT" that's what the sign said.

Can you bring back to life, something that's dead?

It has been a long time since Jesus was here.

It hasn't been done, not this day, not this year.

If someone's not dead, but just seems to be.

Mouth to mouth breathing, like you've seen on TV.

Can bring someone back, who's not taken by death.

Three or four minutes without pulse or a breath.

Is already too late, they'll suffer brain damage.

They may be alive, but they'll never manage.

To get back to normal, as they were before.

To die makes them "Lucky", with what lays in store.

What about us, the ones who know Him?

Is our spirit dead, when our light is that dim?

If we stay off our knees and don't pray for others.

Or dabble in sin, sin is what smothers.

A light that was bright, which others could see.

A handicapped Christian, is that you, is that me?

So we go to Revivals and get God's CPR.

It may bring us back, if we've not gone too far.

Spirits don't breath, they die of malnutrition.

Praying is a meal, and there's too much meal missing.

Vitamins and such do a spirit no good.

They're strengthened by love, when we love as we should.

Then, there's God's Rescue Wagon, which nobody sees.

It comes in so quietly, when we're down on our knees.

A small, quiet voice has this Medic of mine.

One touch of His hand and I'll soon be just fine.

If your spirit is starved or your light is too dim.

Admit you're in trouble, then just call on Him.

He'll give you new life and replace that dead heart.

He'll do all He can if you'll do your part.

The American Dream and other myths

A quaint little cottage, a year old 4 X 4, a fence around my backyard, who could ask for more?

A fourteen year old, seldom seen; a cat who mimes for food, a sweet and sexy, younger wife, never in a nasty mood.

A riding mower with bagger, a Harley Touring Hog, a fourteen-foot Bass Boat and a well trained Beagle Dog.

A neighborhood full of friends, a golf bag full of clubs; two rifles and a shotgun, a tape player deck that dubs.

A front yard full of Zoyza grass, a back yard full of rocks; insulated hunting boots and some battery powered socks.

Talk about your American Dream and having it made in the shade; money in my savings account and every bill is paid.

Still, I keep on plugging away, bringing those paychecks home. The daughter wants a leather coat and the wife, a better phone.

OH Sure! I'm a dreamer, like all the others on my block. Giving life my very best; wound tighter than an eight-day clock.

I take "Honey Do" vacations, mend a thing or two; lay out plans for a window that'll give us a better view.

Speaking of how we see things; could I ask you this? What's the point in having everything, if eternity we miss?

Things can't make us happy; if so, you'd surely be. Cause I took stock the other day, and you have more than me.

Are you blessed with peaceful sleep? Do you know the joy of giving? Is your spirit dead and silent while you proclaim "This is living?"

Do you know the power of prayer? Do you love your fellowman? Are you living life for Jesus, walking as straight as you can?

Abundant life will pass you by if you set your heart on things. Knowing Christ has its own rewards, real security it brings.

So keep up with the Jones'; match them stride for stride. But in your earthly mansions, you'll find no place to hide.

When the Day of the Lord comes to pass and this earth is purged with fire. All those "Things" will melt away and you'll have a new desire.

"Rocks and mountains, fall on me! Hide me from His wrath."

Things could be so different then, if you'd choosen another path.


Position dictates a point of view, and Oh My! How it changes

When life extends toward maturity and age hits the upper ranges

Spectacles aid the natural eye and wisdom broadens the mind

But spiritual sight needs a place to stand, a new perspective one must find

A narrow mind has no vision, no depth, no width, and no height

A man with tunnel vision, needs God's penetrating light

To see beyond the surface, no boundaries left or right

God sees through to the hidden heart, and with His help; we might

When God grants His perspective, and eyes see life through Him

Men will look like brothers, and we'll love all of them

Parental Pause

Our lips say "I LOVE YOU" and the words return to us as if they rebounded off some invisible barrier.

I watch your facial expressions as your Mother speaks words, which it seems, you would rather not hear.

I imagine I hear unseen fingers, drumming out a bored rhythm in my brain as I watch your eyes stare blankly off into the space somewhere over her head.

Your actions say "My God! It’s another one of their lectures" and you just tolerate the words long enough to appease our need to say them.

Today, as I gave thought to the present situation, guilt crept in and pointed an accusing finger at me.

It said something was missing in our attempts at showing our love for you through our deeds, or else, we would have no need to say them; you would know without them being said.

I know pain in my heart at your defiant attitude and you can't hear the sound of it breaking over the volume of your sharp replies to what you perceive as unjust criticism of your recent behavior.

I paused and called upon some of my most cherished memories to act as a soothing balm for the pain I was feeling at that moment.

You were but a toddler, dressed only in thin curls of hair and soggy training pants. Standing at my feet with out-stretched arms, which said in our own special language, "Pick me up Daddy!" I complied, ignoring the cold, dampness on my supporting forearm, because I felt that the reward of holding you close was a reward worthy of any sacrifice.

I was not disappointed, as your chubby arms encircled my neck, and nose tip to nose tip, you said "I love you Daddy."

I never doubted it for a moment, but to hear it expressed in your own childish tongue, touched my parents heart as only a child can.

The years have brought so much change. Your natural beauty has grown, right along with the new, adult attitude I see in you now.

I understand the turmoil that seethes within. It calls you, urging you to be free and independent from all our rules and boundaries, the limitations we impose, and Yes! To feed the desires which scream at you from within.

Please! Do not hate us for loving you enough to be overly protective.

If our words seem harsh, please try to understand where they come from. They are born out of fear, knowing what the world can do to a young, inexperienced adult. We are confused, feeling that we do not deserve the reaction we have witnessed of late.

We do not understand how you can so readily accept an "I Love You" from some strange, young man, bearing flowers, and just shrug off and forget all the ways your Mother and I have demonstrated our love for you, each and everyday.

We want to share our lives with you, as unexciting and dull as they seem to you right now and we want you to share what little time remains for you as a resident part of our home with us.

Don't shut us out now. You will have plenty of opportunity to do that when you are trying to cope with your own home and family later on.

If you will allow us to, we will continue to love, worry and fret, shelter, feed and clothe you. We will gladly supply every need we possibly can until the day you leave us and begin your new life out in the world. And after that; whether you want us to or not; we will still go on loving you.

This is no Joke

I'm no Angel, that's plain to see

Just common & plain as I can be

Don't wear suits or put on airs

Just want you to know that no one cares

What you may think when I act crude

Or if you're critical when I get rude

I'm just me, I've always been

If you tell a joke I'm sure to grin

Cause a merry heart can keep you well

I like laughing so jokes I tell

If we give account for each foolish word

There's plenty to tally with the jokes I have heard

But joy's not funny, it just feels good

I'd rather have that if I always could

With a merry heart and a joyful soul

Someday I'll reach my life long goal

Cause Jesus said, "Just as I am"

To follow Him as best I can

So I do my best to make life fun

And trust my soul to God's only Son

My little Light

There is a light inside of me that shines on what I am to be

It shows me things that I do wrong and lights my path as I walk along

I keep this light in a special place, the warmth of it can be seen on my face.

A light so strong, its power shows; it constantly shines and Jesus knows.

How I received it and welcomed the day, when He entered in and drove the darkness away.

What once was gloomy is lighted so well, and it's filled with love, I can tell.

It feels so good and it's great to share, it never runs out, there's so much there.

All of that love in such a small space, and though I give it away at a furious pace.

It keeps on coming, there's an endless supply, a light that brings love, I asked Him why?

Why did He do it? Give this to me, forgive all my sins and set my soul free.

He said He's the light and loved us all so, He was willing to die and conquer our foe.

He gave me this light so others could see, that He is the way, then left it to me.

To let that light shine and lead others to Him, I'm doing my best, though my light is quite dim.

As weak as it is, with thanks it's still shown, Just pray and seek Jesus; get one of your own.

Macho men

Hard as nails you must be my son and another thing; men don't cry

You'll have to work to live in this world, it's not easy but you still must try

Fight for what you believe in; be tough and brave and strong

Be honest, trustworthy, pay your debts; do good and you'll never go wrong

Advice to no end they give you about how to become a man

To prepare you for life as they know it, the very best they can

But I know them for what they really are, under that Macho shell

They are people we love and look up to; the man we all know so well

Known by many names by their children; Father or Pop or Dad

I'll tell you what they really are; the best friend a kid ever had

Like a Tortoise they are hard on the outside; inside, soft as can be

They never display any weakness, no emotions for others to see

So how come they like little Puppies and love kids the way that they do

Muscled, hard hands, so rough and strong, yet gentle when holding you

Their physical appearance says one thing, their behavior tells you another

If they're so big and bad and tough, how come they're loved by your mother?

Opposites attract, that's what they say and you've all heard that story

Men do all those manly things, things that most women find gory

They hunt and fish and clean their catch, or kill a menacing spider

But let your Mom have a heartache, and he's right there for comfort, beside her

Many things in life can stir your heart and cause sympathetic tears to flow

But the sight of a grief stricken, crying man moves like nothing else I know

Men shed tears so seldom in view and hide the hurts that bring pain

Many men have reason to cry like, when at war, a friend was slain

Many men have died in battle, the pain of their wounds intense

But to hold back the tears, born of pain, does any of that make sense

I know that most men have loved someone with all that they possess

But to express that love with spoken words just isn't manly, I guess

Let that same man come to Jesus, to repent and be born-again

Then the tears will flow freely, these new creatures are now "Real" men

Words of love bubble forth as a fountain, their hearts overflow with His love

Who gets the thanks and the praises, why Jesus, or Lord from above

His Father, He knows all about men, as His creations He certainly should

But men weren't created to be as they are, not to sin, but to love and do good

So if you ever see your Daddy crying, don't think him less than the best

He's more like Christ when he's crying and passed the world's toughest test

A truth I learned

Oh! To be so young and free, with all of life to come

Free to choose a trodden path or one that's seen by none

Foolish choices, hardened hearts, the pain of lessons learned

The dying embers of passion's fire, quenched by love once spurned

Young hearts know fearlessness, born of innocent age

They care not what tomorrow holds while hope inside doth rage

The future comes with each new morn; excitement spurs them on

But life will hide her pitfalls well, until tomorrow's dawn

Scarred and hurt, the old look back, to see what might have been

And wish that they could go back there, to try it all again

Though I may sing Septembers song, don't shed a tear for me

I hold life’s treasures in my heart, while the young’s are yet to be

Last Will and Testament

After I'm gone and some years have past.

I pray that these words are found at last.

The years of my life, I've recorded in pen.

So some other soul might relive them again.

I hope it's a Grandchild or some other heir.

Investing the time and allows me to share.

These words I hold precious, and pen out of heart.

Preserving the lineage my Fathers did start.

My heirs have my bloodline, they may look like me.

And by reading my words, my struggle they'll see.

Perhaps know the joy I felt in my soul.

I pray that they can, for that's my life's goal.

My words, they seem endless; what if they get bored?

To lose someone's interest I cannot afford.

Printing a lifetime on paper is tedious too.

Just like this poem I've written for you.

So, hang on dear reader, there's something in store.

Perhaps you will find it, through the next written door.

Each word is a portion of the life given me.

So, read all my words if my soul you would see.

His pen

Posthumous recognition is so often a Writer's fate.

While the world ignores creation's fruit, an Author can but wait.

Inspiration stirs the hand to pen, then death claims life unknown.

The depth of man's emotions, in heartfelt words are shown.

Renown and fame are strangers here, while poverty clings like dust.

Not one man would see the words they will not trust.

A desire to share what God inspires, drives this writer's hand.

For he knows the voice of the one, true God and writes at His command.

A willing instrument seeks no honor; the Master sets the task.

Words flow by the force of His power and I do what He may ask.

So give the glory to my Lord, if any praise is due.

For I am but the pen of God...and I share His words with you.

He wept once more

When I think about The Father's Son and what He did for me

When I think of what He suffered, to set all captives free

My spirit spans the ages past, and I am down on my knee

Before that cruel, Roman cross; there at Calvary

I've trod that path a thousand times and looked upon His face

And marveled at the joy I felt in such an awful place

I've heard Him ask forgiveness for those who placed Him here

And saw the trace, on His bloodstained face, of one cleansing tear

A smile appeared on His tortured face as He saw me kneeling down

As if I were the first to come and trod that holy ground

But the path's worn deep by searching feet; it's a place where millions have been

While strewn all round are life’s burdens found and garments soiled by sin

I know there's power in that blood, it delivers men today

But I never knew a joyful tear could wash that blood away

For the joy set before Him He endured the cross, despising the shame He must bear

And that tear I saw, from His cheek did not fall, His Father gently took it from there

And created a Sea, which He said would be, the place where all sin is cast

I wasn't the first to know His mercy and I'm certain I won't be the last

etc., etc., etc. I got that from The King and I

And now, lets get back to drowning you folk in all my poems.

Hey! What good does it do a feller to have a blog if he can't post his poetry on it?

It was roomered to be so

Last night, on Jay Leno's ten o'clock show, his news team, ones Rick and Tanya reported something horrible.  I'm still trying to get to the bottom of it all.

They said that yesterday, during a meeting, Nancy Pelosi's face suddenly broke free from all the surgical anchors that were holding her many nips and tucks in place.  The sudden release was so powerful many people were injured and it was reported that several people died as a result.

I am leaning toward doubting this report for if it were true it surely would have been on Fox and Friends News early this morning and it was not, at least  not before I had to leave to take the wife to the bus stop.

I'll do some more searching and see what I can find.  I know you are interested.

Watch this space for any updates. 

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

He and We

Twix earth and sky His Son did die and shared the fate of thieves

Between the pair, hung willing there, one of the two believes

The middle man, by Roman hand, was pierced and died for me

His blood was shed; thorns crowned His head, there on Calvary

His lifeless form, away was born, a stone, it barred the way

All soon would see, the dawn of three, as His resurrection day

He lived in love, God's Holy Dove, raised again to live forever

Love as I and never die; I will leave you never

His Spirit came, a Holy Flame, Unknown Tongues and Power

Believe in me; be sin free, my blessings I will shower

So you and I believe and try to live our life as He

By faith today, we walk His way, toward Eternity

Grandma's Smile

My Grandma smiled a million smiles, one was always on her face

She smiled each time she looked my way; a frown, it had no place

Her eyes would gleam with inner joy, and shimmer behind happy tears

Her cheeks would blush with love's own glow; her arms erased all fears

She's been gone a long time now, and everyday I pray

For just one glimpse of her smiling face, if God could find a way

Her smile spoke silent, loving words that my young heart could hear

And even till this very day, those words I cherish dear

Today, as I prepared to shave, my Grandson ambled in

And chattered in his childish tongue, all I could do was grin

I kissed his cheek and rubbed his head and sent him on his way

Then turned to see my Grandma's smile, this was a special day

I gazed into my aging eyes, saw sparkling, happy tears

So I thanked God for answered prayer, even if it did take years

Now, I pray a different prayer; I'll pray it all the time

That this same smile, pass to that boy, and on his face will shine

Grand Dad

My children seem like strangers, I don't know them anymore

They hug me, call me Dad and such; still I am not sure

Is this man my long lost son who moved out on his own?

I must admit, he looks a lot like the pictures we have shown

He recalls forgotten deeds and words I believe I did not say

And tells me of some silly prank I played one April Fool’s Day

He has children of his own, whom he puts in "Grandpa's" lap

Or allows to run around full tilt while I try to take a nap

That sweet, young thing he brought today, tried to call me Dad

She kissed my cheek and hugged my neck; I know when I've been had

Children grow up physically, their number don't increase

And when they get out on their own, a parent's job should cease

I know I'm getting older and my memory's going fast

Soon I'll be too old to care; this misery can't last

They tag me with some silly name and think I'll act the part

Then, just because I'm feeble, they try to break my heart

I can't help that I love kids with rosy, cherub cheeks

Or that I miss them when they go for days or even weeks

My life's been full and happy, and sure, I complain a lot

But never call me "GRAND" Dad, that good, I know, I'm not

Gone Fishing

We sit inside this leaky boat, our feet, a soggy mess.

And think "Just where the fish have gone, is any body's guess".

The entire night, a waste of time, not one fish to our name.

Our stomachs growl from emptiness, our purses are the same.

What will we do for daily bread? the Master, He would know.

No need to sit out here and sink, toward the shore we'll go.

In the distance, an eerie glow, a campfire on the shore.

We wondered who had built it...someone whom we owe more?

The sky, it lightens with the dawn, and on the shore, a man.

He beckons for us to draw near shore, and meet Him if we can.

He looks a bit familiar...but cannot be.

He's dead and gone, laid in a tomb...what is wrong with me?

As we near shore, He speaks aloud, "Children; have ye any meat?"

I answered "NO!" in disgust, slowly rising from my seat.

He says to cast our nets again; this time on the right.

What's one more cast to desperate men, who failed the entire night?

The net was in the water, weary arms began the draught.

It wasn't even sensible, goes against all we've been taught.

The weight of fish tore at our net...wonder filled our eyes.

Never was a catch so great, for multitude or size.

The boat sank lower with each pull, our spirits soared on wings.

Was this man more than He seemed?..How could He know such things?

John exclaimed, "It is the Lord!" confusion ruled his mind.

Franticly, I searched the boat, no garment could I find.

The shame of nakedness held me back, until my garb I found.

Putting it on, and over the side, shoreward was I bound.

The others brought the boat to ground, hauling the net behind.

Just in time to hear Him say, "Children; come and dine."

No one spoke in recognition, Jesus then broke bread.

And after the meal was finished, came the moment which I dread.

Guilt was plainly on my face, remorse my heart did seize.

Then Jesus asked me "Peter; do you love me more than these?"

"YEA, my Lord! I love thee, more than any man."

Jesus looked deeply into my eyes; "Peter, feed my Lamb."

Thrice in all the question came; thrice I answered "YEA!"

Once for each denial, then the guilt just vanished away.

"Feed my sheep!...Feed my sheep!...His instructions seemed unclear.

But time would reveal a disciple's fate, as destiny drew me near.

At a fire of comfort I had denied Him and swore into its flame.

Today His fire feeds your soul and brands you with His name.

His Spirit's fire purifies your hearts and warms a growing need.

Forgiven Shepherd that I am, His flock, I gladly feed.


Accomplishments that swell the chest, and for some; swell the head.

Are thought to be important goals for the days that lay ahead.

Acquaintances will pat our backs and stroke our Ego's fur.

Or heap upon us praising words and begin each phrase with SIR.

Success is what we all strive for, be it business, home or love.

And even if I step on you, I'll reach the rung above.

But once you've made it to the top and stop to look around.

You'll find you're standing all alone and there's no way out but down.

A Castle is a lonely place, its solitude, so cold.

A lofty perch is a scary place when you're graying, tired & old.

What really is the meaning of life, what good is gold & stuff?

You sure can't take it with you, so how much is enough?

Life's treasures can't be stored away or kept in safes of steel.

You'll find them in a close friends smile or sharing what they feel.

A tender word, a gentle hug or a gaze that speaks to hearts.

Can restore a shattered, broken life or a soul that's torn apart.

Love is a treasure for sharing, so if God has richly blessed.

You have enough to give away and pass your toughest test.

Evolution's Myth

Evolution, Darwin said, brings change to all that lives

I can't agree with all he thought; the reason that he gives

For creatures odd and plants diverse, the Platypus and such

No relative of mines an Ape, that theory's much too much

Things do change, I'll give him that, not just things alive

We alter them through daily use, not adapting to survive

Take the language which we speak, is it alive or still

I have witnessed it evolve and I believe it always will

What meant one thing years ago may now mean something new

We simply coin a phrase or word related to our point of view

Dysfunctional and Family, an adjective with a noun

We're not constructing sentences, just putting excuses down

It's a Fetus, not a Baby, she chooses to abort

Not much worse than killing time, if your that type or sort

Politically Correct means acceptable to all that matter now

It isn't really what you say, just concentrate on how

If we can say it differently, Infanticide's OK

But abortion is still MURDER, just said some other way


Sometimes I read for hours, to share anothers joy

Or cry when some calamity would strike and life destroy

The obstacles surmounted, the overcoming will

The height of souls elated, when hope was all but nil

Despairing hearts which knew relief when answers came their way

Or cures which seemed miraculous on someone's dying day

Life restored or turned around from the depths of hopelessness

A joyous end for desperate days that God had chose to bless

Kindness shown by others, a cheek turned toward brute force

The gentle touch of tenderness from an unexpected source

It's not that these events are rare, they're common as the flu

I'd say just think about it and you would know a few

Goodness seldom makes the news; it's not like "Man bites dog"

The media is more concerned with the E.P.A. and SMOG

Call me an emotional Vampire, a parasite to others

But I would feel some joy each day, if I could have my druthers

Some men seek out riches, and stash them all away

But I for one need my feelings touched to give them life each day

If you would help this beggar out and give his life a lift

Share with me some emotions, a truly priceless gift

Easter's Love Poem

Into lowly surroundings our blessed Savior was brought. Called the Jewish Messiah, his chosen people knew Him not.

He escaped Herod’s scheme through angelic intervention and grew up in Nazareth, attracting little public attention.

Of His childhood we know little, of his adolescence even less, until a man of thirty set out upon His quest.

Purified by ordeal, full measure of Satan's temptation endured. Tempered in the desert fires, of success He was assured.

John the Baptist prepared the way, exclaiming for all to hear, "God's Holy Lamb is in our midst, Listen! All who have an ear."

Baptized by John in the Jordan, anointed for the perfect plan. Carrying out His Father's will; supernatural wonders from a man.

He chose His Apostle followers and made them fishers of men and told them of His coming death, over and over again.

All along, His eventual end, in advance He knew, and many amazing miracles, this humblest of men did do.

Many hard ordeals awaited in the days which lay ahead, but stay His course He could not, being by His Father led.

So through the mountains and valleys, His message did He preach, and many a valuable lesson to the people did He teach.

Endless parables from Holy lips, often did He speak. Few comprehended their meaning, interpretation did they seek.

After He revealed their truths and applied them to men's lives, a great lesson here was learned, righteous guidance realized.

He healed the sick and raised the dead, created enemies along the way, because he made the lame to walk on the Jewish Sabbath Day.

Right away they wanted to kill Him but prophecy was shown true. He evaded their traps and pitfalls, with heavenly wisdom, which He knew.

He fed the multitude on the mountain, another miracle from His hand. He was destined for Jerusalem, where He'd make His final stand.

Many more miracles were yet to come before He accepted His fate. He'd cast out spirits, make blind eyes see, the cross would have to wait.

Words so profound He uttered, to Disciples and all that would hear, and forged ahead to Jerusalem, in His heart He hid His fear.

One could not be sure of this Holy Son and the emotions He had within. The one true thing, of which we're sure, God's Son knew no sin.

Faith was shown to Peter; by bidding "Come" walk the Sea of Galilee. Control over nature was shown them, with words He calmed the raging Sea.

But even with all His wisdom and the powers at His command, He would not change the events to come, this Lamb, the Son of Man.

Performing endless miracles and preaching "The Kingdom is at hand", He steadfastly trod ever forward, followed by His still unsure band.

How could His Disciples still doubt Him, after all they had seen Him do? He needed support at this time in His life and followers were far too few.

Three witnessed His transfiguration, His two companions no longer of earth, and heard God proclaim Him as His own Son, as so it was from His birth.

Fulfilling the scriptures, that was His quest, and now the hour is at hand. To Bethany, where Lazarus had died, He led His following band.

"If you had come this would not be so", said Martha so angrily. I am the resurrection and life he'll soon receive, because of belief in me.

His heart was touched and he wept openly as they led Him to where Lazarus lay. To His Father He prayed and bade Lazarus "COME OUT", He revealed God's Glory that day.

On a donkey's back, through Jerusalem's Gates, He rode on a path of Palm leaves. "We have failed, can't you see, the whole world follows Him." said vengeful Pharisees.

Jesus and Disciples sat for supper, with His betrayer this night He broke bread. Thirty pieces of silver were paid him, a wasted wage for the dead.

He told them of the helper He'd send, to comfort and reveal all that's true. And one more time, spoke of His death and the great things that they would do.

They rained worried questions upon Him, tell us Teacher, how can this be? You've revealed so much, and yet like the blind, we hear and still cannot see.

Jesus spoke to Peter's denial, the truth about what was to be. Love one another as I have loved you, my final commandment to thee.

I shall not be here much longer, and you cannot go where I go. I'll prepare a dwelling place for you, if not, I would have told you so.

I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but by me. Ask whatever of the Father in my name, and surely it will come to be.

All of you will be scattered and I'll be alone in the end. So be brave and wait for the Comforter, the Holy Ghost I told you I'd send.

For the Disciples He prayed to the Father, a prayer that includes you and me. A promise of life everlasting, our believing will set our souls free.

Now, away to the Garden, across Kidron's Brook, the Disciples and He went to pray. But they fell fast asleep, no vigil they'd keep and disappointed Jesus that day.

Perspiration as blood, ran down His face, as He prayed for release from His fate. But, He would drink from the cup, "Not My Will But Thine", for compromise, it was too late.

To Gethsemane then came Judas, to betray his Lord with a kiss. "Be quick about it then," said Jesus, with such a grave sin as this.

His follower's sword was useless and the Soldiers now held Him tight. Twelve armies of Angels were waiting, but the prophecy would be that night.

The Roman Governor could find no fault, "Just what has this man done?" Why! He violated our Sabbath Day, and He claims to be God's Son.

"What about this Jesus? Are these accusations about you true? It's not my will to be your judge but I've been given power over you."

"Are you a King? And if so, where does your Kingdom lay?" "My Kingdom is not of this world. I have no earthly Kingdom this day."

"As for power, you would have none, except my Father allowed it to be." To their accusations, He answered not, for it was as they told him you see.

So, as was the Passover custom, Pilate would a prisoner set free. "Will it be your King or someone else, you tell me, whom will it be?"

"Barabbas the Bandit, set him free, and then crucify that counterfeit King." Choose evil over good, would you believe that they could, even imagine this terrible thing?

But Pilate gave in to their wishes, washed his hand of the innocent's blood. Then gave Him up for the sentence, his guilt must have raged as a flood.

The scriptures were now full upon Him, as the soldiers brought Him to shame. A thorny crown and purple robe, all a part of events so insane.

They flogged Him and laid His flesh open, spoke insults and spat in His face. King of the Jews they all taunted, you'll rule over worms in this case.

A cross was the Scepter they gave Him; Golgatha the place of His throne. And what of the Lord's chosen people; their hatred of Him they had shown.

"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do" He offered in their defense. An injustice so cruel they inflicted on Him, unequaled before or since.

Those terrible spikes they drove through His hands and nailed Him to history. The most innocent of all would suffer this day and die on Calvary's tree.

A sign declared the world's greatest truth, Pilate decreed it was so. He gave His mother to the disciple He loved, and he, the son she would know.

He hung there and suffered, the soldiers stood by, and then they cast lots for his clothes. His sacrifice this day, no mortal could say. Its importance, everyone knows.

And now the ending approaches, and in order to make all scriptures true, He spoke "I Thirst" as a final request; need a King ask such of you.

A Hyssop branch with vinegar sponge was raised to those Holy lips. "It is finished" He moaned, His spirit released, as life slipped through dead fingertips.

And now it is done, atoned by God's Son, our sins remembered no more. In repayment for this, which began with a kiss and cruelty not known before.

A heavenly home and a seat by His throne, rewards for our world killing Him. He must love us more, as never before, or our future days would be dim.

Rejoice if you can when you think of this man, and all that this world put Him through. For His reasons were clear and His loss Oh so dear, because of our God's love for you.

They pierced His side to be sure that He died and released the blood that washed clean. Black hearts were made white by this terrible sight, greater sacrifice no man has seen.

His lifeless form was set free and prepared ritually, laid in a tomb used by none. But death would not claim; this Jesus by name, the end to all ends was done.

For the prophecy said He would raise from the dead and only a few eyes would see. Our salvation was bought, by few seldom sought, His victory our guarantee.

So early on Sunday morning, Mary Magdelene to the sepulcher went. She saw the stone rolled away and heard Jesus say, "For whom are your tears so spent?"

She did not recognize Jesus, and asked if He had taken the body away. "Mary" He said and she turned her head, "Rabonni" is all she could say.

Easter came new, as all special days do, and He we still worship today. With arms reaching for you, He will save your soul too, there is not too much more I can say.

All you need to do for salvation true, is accept Jesus as Savior today.

Common Sense

If you had always existed and knew you always would, time would have no meaning, but to us it should.

Three score & ten was allotted me to live here on this earth, but I couldn't do enough for Him if I had started at my birth.

I wasted all my youthful years, found Jesus at two score & three. All that time and then one day, I discovered that God loved me.

Just think of the years I scurried through, no faith, no love and no goals. Gave no thought to the future, or the fate of my eternal soul.

A few moment of time I spent on my knees, repented and claimed God's Son. Twenty-seven years, that's all I had to work and get things done.

That's not much of an investment, when you consider the return He'll give. An eternity in Heaven, where He and Jesus live


If it were in my power, to give you everything, to shower you with presents and into your life bring

The peace of never knowing need, secure in all desire; I wonder what your life would be, or what could fuel the fire

Would your heart light fade away, would darkness enter in; would your vision of tomorrow, be shapeless, dark and dim?

What in life could bring you joy, where would dreams be found; what goals would you strive for, how could hope abound

I've asked myself that question and now I think I see; the answer's not in giving all, desires to someone free

On what do we place value, can money buy one peace. If someone is in bondage, what can buy release?

There is only one gift, priceless and yet free. There is no way to earn it, yet it came to me

We toil in this life of ours just to earn our way; then spend it on necessities to live from day to day

But what if there's abundance and we have lots to spare. Do we hoard and store it up or with some others share

I'd like to offer some to God, but cannot find His hand. I know He preaches charity, in fact that's His command

What was it that Jesus said about our charity? "Giving to the least of these, is giving it to me."

A Secret Shared

Yesterday has stolen the years and beckons from over my shoulder

While memories fade and vision dims with each day I grow older

When it's hard to recall yesterday, or see what may be tomorrow

Life can become a blurry haze and each day fills with sorrow

Contentment is my enemy; I long for adventure's joy

And wish that I could return to when, I was a carefree boy

Life demands so much of me; I'm shackled by the weight

I pray I find the way to change before it's much too late

This rut I'm in is deep and dark, no sun to warm my heart

I cannot climb the steep, blank walls or make the darkness part

Is death the only open door and freedom a nightly dream?

Or is my soul deeply depressed and things not as they seem?

I would warn you children; don't follow the path I trod

Abundant life is not material goods; it's only found in God

A Parent's Passion

The following was written sometime after early 1984, exact date unknown. God had given me the ability to see life so much more clearly, and the words written here came from a newly born again heart. The original was untitled but I have since titled it.

Maternal love is such a mystery, a paradox of emotional forces. It yearns for obligation and responsibility, at a time when liberty and freedom abound.

The union of two bodies into one flesh, driven by these forces, sees reproducing an impression of the resulting combination as the only solution to fulfillment.

The desire is wild and uncontrollable, spurred on by passion's fire. Inexperience contributes no measure of cautious control and a young couple's need to succeed will trample all other desires in an unbridled stampede.

The visions of parenthood are brightly colored by the imagination. All around is displayed the reality of other parent's failed attempts, and yet, some power within causes optimism to burn in their expectant hearts.

There is a climax of expression in word and gesture as the miracle of impregnation is affirmed. Coos and embraces punctuate the towering magnitude of such an event.

But eyes blinded by implied promise cannot see the road in the distance, where the torrents of life have washed out the span to tomorrow.

Oh! How wonderful is the touch of newborn flesh. Soft and innocent, sweet smelling and subtle. If one could look deep into the eyes of a youthful mother, you would see limitless hope for what lays ahead.

Fragile is a mother's heart; ruthless are the harsh realities of life.

Too stubbornly were efforts applied to the task of creating a clone of one's self. Too late came the final realization, that your child was an individual, their own person, with cares and desires remote from your own. Alone with your thoughts, nagging questions gave you no peace. "When will the values I taught surface?" Perhaps they had already, but you denied recognition, rejected the possibility of ever being "That Way."

When maternal love expends itself, exhausted in effort and tear laden eyes know the truth of failure; their own; guilt feelings can bring torment, but through the pain, love pleads for another chance.

Broken hearts reside in the dark corners of an empty, silent home. Repentant words are whispered in solitude, but the years cannot be called back, the mistakes are made and are deeply etched with guilt and condemnation upon all our cherished memories.

Maternal love is still present in abundance, but there is no youthful chalice into which it can be poured. Concern occupies mental processes and prodding questions repeat within, without end, answered only by the stillness of a telephone which never rings and a solid brass door knocker, corroded to its' base.

The empty nest is littered with remnants of a hopeful past, rediscovered treasures, misplaced and forgotten, brought to life once more by the constant rearranging of a collection of keepsakes, dear to an abandoned heart.

Searching ears catch the faint sound of distant voices and anxiety spawns cautious excursions to sparkling, entryway windows, perfectly groomed with lace and satin, curtain and valance, born out of nervous occupying of too much time.

Wonder of wonders; a new day dawns. There is an unfamiliar knock at the door and a trembling hand turns the knob of uncertainty, revealing a young mother, arms filled with new life and new hope for tomorrow. Emptiness and sorrow are banished as a mother and child are reconciled. The daughter bears a wonderful gift, and the aging woman rises on an emotional crest as a new title is bestowed upon her, "Grandmother".

Love Elixir

If there were some elixir that made a marriage last;
some strange and wondrous potion, brewed up by Wizards past

I'd give a dose to newly-weds and some to pairs in trouble
or for a marriage on the rocks, prescribe a dose that's double

But I'm afraid it's never been, this phantom brew of yore.
No chemical or magic hex can stem what lays in store

We see them in divorce courts, their dreams a shattered mess,
and if I had to site some cause, I simply have to guess

We can agree on what went wrong for hindsight is crystal clear.
But which of us has a perfect plan that works from year to year?

Surely there's some steadfast rule we always overlook.
Of course there is; I read it once, in some old, tattered book

Let me see, what was that phrase? "When two become one flesh".
It's been written there for many years and yet it seems so fresh

"Forsaking all others", even Mom and Dad, is that what those words said?
Something about an acceptable and undefiled marriage bed

That doesn't sound like modern life, but what if that stuff's true?
And now that I think about it, it worked for me and you

"Cleave to one another" and that's just what we did.
The secret's been there all along; never was it hid.

Someday the world may realize, the Bible IS God's plan.
The answer for our earthly life; the elixir for every man.