Tuesday, September 16, 2014
I didn’t want to tell you
The last time it happened,
Or the time before that,
Or the time before that:
So many times
I didn’t want to tell you.
I was ashamed, embarrassed,
Scared to admit it to you
Let alone to myself.
What I wanted felt unseemly,
And I didn’t want to tell you
I was afraid you’d take it away,
And sometimes more afraid
In my eagerness
That you’d give me exactly what I wanted.
This time is different.
I WANT you to know
I want you to know
Because if I tell you
You are the only one
Who can make it safe.
Whether I get what I want or no,
I want you to know.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
What I want for you
Is to enjoy the time we have together-
Lots of talk, shared fun,
An occasional word of wisdom,
A blessing, even a prayer or two.
What I want you to know
Is that I see the image of my Savior
Every time I look at you,
And remember the price He paid
To put that image on your face.
What I want you to remember
Is I care enough,
And hopefully work hard enough,
So that when you are all grown
You won’t be ashamed
That I called you my friend.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Friday, September 5, 2014
Monday, September 1, 2014
Thursday, August 28, 2014
A simple piece of green paper,
Handmade, folded in two,
Corners rounded: an Easter card
Maybe four inches by six.
On the front, five flowers pasted,
Cut out from yellow paper,
Dots of orange in the middle of each.
Open the card, two more flowers,
Identical, one on each page.
Not very professional by Hallmark standards,
But it was my only Easter card this year.
The maker, a quiet young man of 12,
Soft of voice, shy of smile,
Scurries around our gym-turned-church
To personally deliver his greetings
And wish everyone a happy Resurrection Day.
“To Brother Chip, love, Mark”
Neatly printed on the inside.
Dyslexia makes the words and letters
Jumbled up and strange to him -
A difficult task: this was real work.
I can picture He whose day we celebrated
Smiling down from His throne in heaven
As His young messenger completed his rounds.
I stand in thankful awe,
Watching the boy he is,
Wondering at the man he is to become,
My heart warmed by his simple gift,
A Savior’s love, a Father’s compassion,
And feel unworthy of everything I‘ve received.