Thursday, February 15, 2024

PRAYFUL BEGINNINGS

 


PRAYFUL BEGINNINGS

Through humble prayer a boy conceived our creed 

To know from where the truth of God was found

Beholding James' own words and from that seed

Grew forth a faithful tree in fertile ground


This boy so young, mere fourteen years of youth

In sacred forest grove went forth to plea

To heaven's maker, knelt and asked for truth.

Dispelled his doubts, and calmed his wav'ring sea.


His mortal words pierced through eternal veil

To touched the ears of those supernal Lords.

Their glory shone, pure darkness did expel

Appeared two beings as he looked heavenwards.


"Behold, Dear Joseph," pointing to the One.

"Give ear, to hear my sole begotten son."

Sunday, February 11, 2024

HEED THE CALL

 


HEED THE CALL

Where doth the God of love and virtue send
His servant whom He cherished all the night
To mend the stalks, and drying roots to tend
Within His fields that blossom blooms of white?

To them who spin and toil thus apart
And walk a burdened path through whetted rain
God sends His man with tools in hand and heart
To smoothe the spoke and lift the ladened chain.

But as the brazen wheel so turns about
Support is lent from every tine inside
That no lone man be shamed to turn and rout
But stand afirm with saged grace for guide.

Let help and aid come soon to whom travail,
Let called men heed, and may the Lord prevail.


Saturday, December 30, 2023

TO BE LOVED


What does the soul when it is not loved?

What does the seed -- without the indulging embrace of cool wet dew upon her softened shell? 

What does the marigold -- without the kiss of the golden sun upon her golden brow? 

What does the meadow filled with wild heather -- without the gaze of one upon her beauty? 

What does the fields of fragrant lavender hyssops -- without a breath of one to breathe her in? 

What does a hill filled with trails lined of Indian-paintbrush -- without a foot to walk her paths?

What does the slopes of Camas lilies -- without a hand to run across her slender dew-filled petals?

What does a flower that is not cherished?

To be loved is to live; to fill and feel the measure of her creation.

To not be loved, is to wither slowly while she waits wishing and longing in silence for the sun to rise...

...But the sun remains unveiled.

Sunday, November 19, 2023

SUNDAY SCHOOL HAIKU



1

 Fire --- Its blaze to choose

Speak! Inspire! Fuel heart's desire

Words define the perfect soul


2

The tongue is a fire

It can be dangerous at times

It can be controlled


3

The tongue is a fire

It is very good and bad

Use it for good, please


4

When the tongue of fire

Is like a Storm in life's path

The bit is to reign.


5

The tongue speaks good things?

Use tongue to become perfect!

The tongue speaks bad things?


6

Tongue of fire can

Be good or bad just like fire

Can be a bad thing.


7

The tongue is fire

A horse is very, very bridled

Our tongue can be bridled


8

As the tongue of fire

May and can spread wildly

Be sure to speak truth


9

Tongue and frontal lobe

Working together as one

Prevent a fire storm


10

The tongue is rudder

Controls the body with words

Good or bad can be.


11

Fire like tongues

Tongues like ice

Some good, some bad


I taught a lesson today in Sunday School on James 3. We discussed that if we are desiring to seek the mastery over many things and move our way towards the perfection of God, we must also accept its consequences and possible condemnation if we fail. James states that the perfect man is able to not offend other. He declares that it is a small thing that controls the whole body for defilement or for divinity, this is the tongue. Our words are like the fire, both something that can destroy, demean, defile and denigrate others around us. But also like fire tongues can be used to warm, warn, give worth to, and make others feel wanted. How we choose to use our words? Will you choose to become the perfect man James speaks of?

Sunday, June 18, 2023

WILD WINDS


Wild Winds


As Autumn's breath sweeps through the rustling trees,

The wind becomes an artist, brush in hand,

It paints with leaves in hues of red and gold,

Creating scenes that nature's heart expands.


And in the vibrant petals of the Spring,

The wind dances amidst the blooming fields,

It whispers secrets to the budding blooms,

And joyful fragrances, it gently yields.


In Summer's golden light, the wind takes flight,

Caressing sun-kissed meadows with its grace,

It carries laughter on its playful wings,

Bringing warmth and joy to every place.


And when the Winter's snowflakes softly fall,

The wind weaves wonders in its icy reign,

It scatters flakes with whimsical delight,

Creating dreams on the frozen window pane.


Yet like the wind, you have your path to tread,

With gifts that make the world a better home,

Leave traces of your artistry and grace.

Embrace this journey, as the wind does roam,


But oh, how we hope that one fine day,

The wind may settle in the meadow's glow,

To bring us once again the warm embrace,

Of breezes that bring joy, like long ago.


May your artistic spirit find its rest,

And fill our lives with happiness anew,

As wind finds solace in its gentle breeze,

May your gifts bring joy and inspiration, true.



Dad, 2023


My oldest daughter is leaving to Girls' Camp. We were asked to write a letter to them from their parents. I created the above poem. When I think of Ambree, she reminds me of the wind. In many ways, everyone around her experiences her gifts and virtues, but she finds it hard to see them herself. As the wind, she is strong and determined. But also fluid and changing. I have great hopes for her, but I fear that I will never have enough influence on her direction. She is not like my other children. This causes me to worry the most about her. My prayer to her is that she return back to the meadow one day so that we all can experience her love and warmth.

Sunday, February 5, 2023

SUNDAY CHIASMUS #2


MY PLACE WITHIN HIS HEART

In song of praise I remember my God, for He, my Father in Heaven has not forgotten me and blesses me with good tidings. 

In the hallows of his heart I have been placed, where I, his child am kept and beholden to this holy one. 

This singular truth, that He knows me, helps me to walk along my path in life; each step I take in my journey reminds me that I am not forgotten, but I am seen by the keeper of all truth. 

I rejoice in this, my personal journey, rejoicing in Him, for He rejoices in me and blesses me with power in each step. 

And as I watch towards the horizons of my journey, I am learning that I do not walk alone, for others have been brought into my paths, intersecting; and though I may not know where they have been or the exact direction they must go, truth conveys to me how I may aid them to reach their sights beyond.

Christ's love for me grows stronger, as I aid those He has guided me to bless, and leads me to know His immense love and hope he has for all his children.

Sing with me, sing this praise to Him from mountains to the vales that you may know He has a part for you to play; in this great chorus of life our song is not sung alone, but heard among the hills and harmonized in the echoing halls of the valleys; so raise your hymn to Him, and sing with me in song.

Saturday, December 3, 2022

POOR AND LOWLY

 


I never quite understood that year when father lost his job
His hope had fled, and replaced with fear in private he would sob
O mother knew she could find no way to lift him back to stand
I was so young in that bygone day, I couldn't understand

I never saw behind doors closed tight or heard their prayers towards heav'n 
But they would pray kneeling ev'ry night, to keep and bless us sev'n
We seven boys on their hearts took toll because of all our need
And weighed upon our poor father's soul for all the mouths to feed

Remembered I of the pair of sneaks that year I'd worn and kept
Their soles had peeled from their glued down peaks and flopped each time I stepped
Just as my shoes was my father's mind whose soul was all undone
His head hung low and he felt confined, down trod and overrun.

My parents knew of the plight I bear and mine was not alone
Each brother mine they all had their share of clothes out worn and grown
The winter cold would bring Christmas soon, and all it's pressured strains
For gifts to buy, decorations strewn and paper countdown chains.

Each present bought was a dollar lost, each toy and gift felt wrong
It's hard to give when constrained by cost or join in the merriment throng
The Christmas joy of that year was low and dad had felt he failed
Just kids were we twas not hard to know that Old Saint Nick had bailed

Our tree though dressed, had no look refine for we could not afford
No spuce or fir, just our plastic pine for seven years twas stored
The needles bare showed its life and use each branch had lost a few
It bore the marks from ingrained abuse its trunk stood quite askew

And when we tacked on our star it took a bit of bailing string
That tied the base to prevent went shook the star to sway or swing
The ornaments simply made by hand from paper, twine and clay
Were hung about on each branch unplanned like only kids array

Though young, I knew that when Christmas came the presents would be scant
A pair of socks and a fam'ly game, church shoes for me and Grant
For Ron they'd gift a small Lego set, for Kregg a knitted vest
The youngest three some cheap toys would get and clothes that'd been bequest.

 My friends at school they had quite the list for Santa's Elves to bring
 New He-Man figs with the action fist, Hulk Hogan's wrestling ring
 The GI-Joes and some under-roos with Bumblebee and Prime
 A Lazer tag and Air Jordan shoes, and Nickelodeon slime.

And though I'd searched through Sears Roebuck's flier of all the toys to view
Afraid was I to list MY desire for fear it'd not come true
I didn't want to place burden on my mother or my dad
I hid my wants until they were gone, I threw out every ad

On Christmas eve I was looking bleak when mother tucked me in
She knew me well and began to speak of times that once had been
A couple poor who had journeyed far found nothing but a stall
To birth a child underneath a star, a king to save us all.

And from the sands there came Wisemen too with gifts in tow to bring
They followed firm the new star so true until they found this king
And knelt with pride in the muck and hay presenting gifts and gold
No jolly elf or a deer drawn sleigh this story that she told.

It had no toys made up in the North through magic elven skills 
But told of sheep being driven forth by shepherds in the hills
And in the night there came angel hosts foretelling of a son
The shepherds heard and they left their posts to seek this holy one.

Surrounded there in the lowly stall with sheep and shepherds poor
This newborn child, the true king of all they bowed upon the floor
And praised his name God's begotten Lamb, the longed for Prince of Peace
Foretold by seers Jesse's Great I Am, from sins and death release.

As mother told the familiar tale my mind was filled with ease
My fears left when I let God prevail and see the world He sees
I drifted peacef'lly dreaming dreams of that one night so prim
And when a star with its glorious beams led them all to him

I woke and crept to our Christmas tree to find what Santa brought
And just as I had divined I'd see there wasn't quite a lot
The shiny shoes that I said I'd get, and candies in my sock
And as we played with Ron's Lego set there came a sudden knock.

"Delivery!" came from the door a shout, "On Christmas day?" We thought.
The mail was closed so we had to doubt so who to us had brought
A package tall stood beneath our stoop as large as you see me
Addressed to us it took all our troupe to bring it by our tree.

Who could have sent and what was inside? These thoughts began to pop
With one swift rip we had torn the side and opened up the top.
The box was filled with the newest toys from all those ads I'd seen
Each one addressed to us seven boys, and all were quite pristine.

Some nerf gun sets and four Lazer tag, with which we could all play
Some He-man figs that at school I'd brag I'd gotten Christmas day
A jacket for every boy to wear which made our mother weep
Each present packed was thought out with care. Who knew us so darn deep?

Beneath the last there was placed a note we found it with much glee
Inside the card we read what was wrote, "To my dear friend Maralee,
Don't ask me how, but I thought of you when I prayed for peace one night
I could not shake what God said to do, through me he'd show his light.

Confused at first from my knees I rose this plan became my creed
A package full of the toys and clothes your seven boys would need
Accept these gifts from our hearts to yours to lift a bit of weight
From off your backs that you stay the course with love, Your old Roommate.

We looked around at the things she'd sent and couldn't imagine quite how.
Had she been shown how our year had went, or how things were just now?
That Christmas day though twas long ago has never left my mind.
A lesson learned so that I would know that God was ever kind

He came to earth in the humblest way, descent below all things
But rose from all in that glorious day to become the king of kings
He calls us forth, the poor, meek and frail to be more than we are
So may we pray to let God prevail and follow fast his star

PRAYFUL BEGINNINGS

  PRAYFUL BEGINNINGS Through humble prayer a boy conceived our creed  To know from where the truth of God was found Beholding James' own...