Peace Be Still

I hesitated to write this post.  If any of you have read this blog or any of my other meanderings, you know I usually write a cheerful poetic piece for the Christmas season.

This year has been a little different, though.  In our family we’ve experienced the loss of my dad, as well as other loved ones.  It was necessary to sell the family home where we experienced so many wonderful Christmas memories.  Then, just a few days ago, our nation was shaken by the shooting of twenty school children ages six through seven in a senseless act of violence.

So, I just don’t feel like writing the normal verse about tinsel, packages, shining stars and the like.  Just like everyone else I’ve been asking why, why, why?

The truth of the matter is; there isn’t but one answer.  God help me, I knew it.  I’ve known it and taught it enough years.  It is why Jesus sat down with his disciples the last time they were together before his death and he taught them where to look in times like these.   Jesus said, “In the world you have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”

Now, this is advanced discipleship but learn it well.  Jesus did not come primarily to give us some Christmas carols and a manger scene.  He came to bring us salvation, to bring us life and, yes, to bring us peace in the midst of the storm.  The vehicle to get us there was the cross.  When you question God, go there first.  He knows about sorrow, tears, pain, suffering and anguish.  Every time I’ve ever questioned Him and there have been a lot of them, He has pointed me there.

I hope you find comfort that leads to joy in these verses.  Jesus isn’t just the reason for the season; He is indeed love, life and peace.

Merry Christmas.

Show Me The Cross

 

Although it’s Christmastime again,

Peace yields to death and loss.

Amidst the chaos, where were you Lord?

He simply shows me the cross.

 

I ask again and yet again,

Didn’t you see the pain, the cost?

The lives in shambles all around?

He calmly shows me the cross.

 

I need a word to lean on, Lord,

As the storm billows round me toss.

The sound I hear is “Peace be still”,

As He lovingly shows me the cross.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Wonder

Wednesday evening I did one the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.  Oh, it probably won’t sound nearly as ominous to you.  Just a few hours ago, I listed for sale the only home I ever knew as a child and young adult.  Now, more than likely, it will become the property of strangers.

I wonder if they’ll realize it is the last place my mom, dad and sister were really happy.

I wonder if they’ll understand that to me it is not just concrete, rocks and lumber; it is so much more.

I wonder if they’ll realize I did my homework at the old kitchen table while my mom scurried about making sure we had plenty to eat and clothes to wear.

I wonder if they’ll care that the uneven ceiling in the back bedroom is there because my mom stepped through it one day on a quick trip to the attic.

I wonder if they’ll realize that the creek bank behind the house was the scene of countless Indian battles and military campaigns against hostile forces, all taking place after school and before supper.

I wonder if they’ll care that the west wall of the kitchen was once adorned with a huge chest freezer.  It was there that every child from three decades posed for pictures during Sunday dinner.

I wonder if they’ll understand the crude carpentry they are probably considering ripping out isn’t crude at all, it is character, for a man of immense pride, integrity and character built it all with his own two hands.

Maybe they’ll understand.  Maybe I’ll make it a condition of the sale that I explain it to them.  Maybe they won’t like me doing it.  Maybe…….., no definitely, I won’t care a bit.  Maybe it will make me feel better, because it rips at my heart and soul to see it go.

Maybe they’ll understand that it’s not just an old house, it is home and will always be precious to me.

Half a Man

I don’t have great ambition in life, not anymore.  You see, I only want to be half a man. 

My dad passed away a few days ago.  Yesterday, I officiated at his funeral.  It wasn’t the first funeral service I’ve conducted, but it was the first one where I didn’t feel at all adequate.

He didn’t leave a large estate; a little money, a house and a few acres of rural property.  By the world’s standards, he wasn’t very successful.  But in the things that really count, he was a millionaire!

His heritage was one of certain faith, patriotism, integrity and honor.  He left a legacy of life lived well, freedom preserved and children who know right from wrong.  It is why Jesus said, “…a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”

At his funeral, one of his oldest friends took me aside and said, “If you are ever half the man your daddy was, you will be quite a man.”

So, henceforth, that is my goal.  I want to be half a man, but I want that half to be like my dad!

Home For Christmas

My mom passed away several years ago.  Christmas was her favorite time of year.  It is mine, as well.  A few months ago, my dad had to move to a nursing facility.  Now the home place is empty.  Often, when I’m there alone, I’ll sit and hear the precious memories.  It sounds crazy, but the scenes from days gone by are almost audible.  They hang in the air like the smell of apple pie.

Several days ago, someone at work asked a co-worker, ” Are you going home for Christmas?”  It caused me to ask myself a million questions.  Is that possible?  What is home, really?  Can we go back?  It was then I began to realize, when we know He who was born in Bethlehem, we are always close to home.

I hope you enjoy this year’s Christmas poem.

 

Home for Christmas

 

Going home for Christmas?

A simple thing to share.

But maybe not so simple,

If home’s no longer there.

 

What makes it home at Christmas?

The query plain and clear.

Just a house beside the road?

Or things that we hold dear?

 

Going home for Christmas?

Is it glitter, lights…a tree?

Or maybe precious scenes of life

Locked tight in memory.

 

What makes it truly Christmas?

Mere scenes from memory?

No, it’s the Holy gift of God

Secure inside of me.

Secret Ingredient

My dad’s days of living alone in the house he built with his own two hands are coming to a close.  For the last several months, our immediate family has been organizing a lifetime of possessions and memories into groups of items to be auctioned or sold in a yard sale of epic proportions.  While this process has been painful, it has given us some time to reflect and reminisce.

Not too long ago my dad was sharing how his mother, during the days of The Great Depression, would make unbelievable, unique creations from nothing more than leftovers.  Although several family members tried to duplicate them down through the years, they weren’t even marginally successful.  Why, I wondered.  Then, just a few days before Valentine’s, it hit me.  Love is an ingredient!  You can’t borrow it, substitute for it, or use someone else’s.  It is the responsibility of each one of us to claim it, cherish it and then, in the crowning act that comes from the heart of God Himself, we have to share it.

Yes.  Love is an ingredient.  I’m sure of it.

Now, I’ve got to alter all these recipes I’ve got around the house.  I think it will be worth the effort.

Little Things

It’s been a year since I posted anything on this site.  The past year has been a particularly trying one.  It has been a time when I’ve had to remind myself over and over to practice what I’ve always preached.  Many times I’ve counseled others during tragic circumstances.  The one thing I’ve always told each one is, if you will be still and quiet and listen during this time, God will teach you something special.

In May our city experienced a devastating flood of unprecedented proportions.  It touched everyone in the city either directly or indirectly.  Our family was one of many touched directly by this disaster.  While continuing to deal with the aftermath of the flood, our granddaughter was diagnosed with a potentially serious medical condition.

But, you know what?  All of these problems have caused me to begin to appreciate and be thankful for the “little things”.

The poetic piece I normally write at Christmas, this year, tells that story.

Trust me.  Learn to cherish those little things.  They are the really important things in life.

Merry Christmas to you and yours.

Precious Little Things

 

A quiet stop at the old home place

To those precious memories cling.

Though the years are closing fast,

I’m thankful for little things.

 

My grandchild sitting on my lap,

Now, she begins to sing.

Though I’ve missed them oftentimes,

I’m thankful for little things.

 

A simple view of our tinseled tree,

A bell, a touch, a dainty ring,

A special dove is nestled there.

Oh, I’m thankful for little things.

 

In my mind a star is shining bright,

Peace and joy to bring.

All by a precious, Holy child.

Praise God for little things.

 

Christmas Angels

I can be a little driven at times. I’ve been on vacation this week, trying to get all the last minute Christmas rituals squared away. Monday I was dodging thoughtless drivers, saying under my breath unprintable things and rushing around like there was no tomorrow. When I stopped at the grocery, by the time I had navigated the first isle I had already mentally assassinated at least a half dozen innocent individuals. That’s when it happened. A small voice said, “Excuse me sir.” I turned to find a little old lady. Her smile would have illuminated a thousand lightless trees. She said, “ I know I’m probably missing it but could you help me find the price of this tea?” I replied, “Mam, you have the same gift I do, you can look straight at something and not see it. The price is right here.” We both laughed for the longest time. Suddenly it hit me. I had forgotten what the season is all about. It is about sharing a gift. Not a gift of fruitcakes or commercial plunder, but the gift of new life.

I usually write a poetic piece for Christmas. I certainly never imagined writing this one, but, hey, things change, don’t they? Thank God they do!

As we draw near to Christmas, look for those Christmas Angels. I’m convinced they are all around us.

Merry Christmas to you and yours.

　

　

 

 

Christmas Angel

 

　

 

 

I saw a Christmas Angel.

You would have never known.

The frame was bent and withered,

The clothes threadbare and worn.

 

Her mission was a simple thing,

For there was one close by,

Had lost the Christmas spirit

Amidst the din of life.

 

There was certain smile she had,

A simple “thank you sir.”

I was the one who found anew

The gift of God in her.