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                                 TRAINING CHILDREN
                 "Training is everything," wrote mark Twain.
                 "The peach was once a bitter almond.
                 "Cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college
                 education."
                  "A prune is a plum with great potential pathetically
                  pathetically gone dry."

                  Our children are trained by everything we do
                  or don't. By our every word or silence. By our
                  every action or reaction. By our absence or at-
                  attendance to the duties of child-rearing
                  our children will be trained.

                  Plan now for "great" grandchildren. Train up
​                  your children in the ways they shouldn't go.

                                                            LOVE THEIR MOTHER

                                                  A very wise son or daughter penned
                                                  these words..."The most important thing
                                                  a father can do for his children is to
                                                  love their mother." (Author unknown)

                                                  We know of no finer, easier, surefire way
                                                  of avoiding divorce, and keeping many
                                                  children's hearts from breaking than
                                                  tending to the above admonition.

                                                  Loving your your wife means putting up
                                                  with all her idiosyncrasies for the rest of
                                                  her life. (After all she has had to put up
                                                  with all your peculiarities indefinitely, too).

                                                  Loving your wife should be your most important
                                                  pastime. And that love and the enjoyment of
​                                                  that love should increase with maturity and age.

                                                 Your children should sense and observe your love
                                                 for their mother.

                                                 For the sake of your marriage and your children...
                                                 Love their mother!

                                                 (First published on July 5, 1979)

                                                         LIGHTNING STREAKED ACROSS THE SKY
                                                       
                                                          Lightning streaked across the sky
                                                          The thunder thundered, we wondered why
                                                          The sky turned pale gray as tree branches
                                                           Began to sway
                                                           The storm came on so suddenly,
                                                            We knew not what to say
                                                            The lights went out all over town
                                                            As Hearts at home began to pound 
                                                         
                                                            The lights would come on again
                                                            They always have, they always will
                                                             If only we would be patient and serene
                                                             We could see a more peaceful scene
                                           
                                                             The time passes so slowly in our war torn land
                                                             Swords have not yet been turned into plowshares

                                                              (Written and published on May 4, 2022)

                                                                  
                                                            SILENCE, SILENCE
                                               
                                               Silence, silence
                                               It is that quiet quietness
                                               That speaks to us alone
                                               And his voice is sweet
                                               And his voice is consoling
                                               And his voice is calming
                                               And his voice is commanding
                                               And his voice may be heard
                                               In the passing of the wind
                                               As he speaks to each of us
                                               Come unto me, and I will give you rest

                                                (Written on May 2, 2022 and published on
                                                May 4, 2022)

                                           WE WOULD DRAW NEARER TO THEE
                               
                              In our running and rushing around
                              Amid all dissonant distracting sound
                              Amid all the worldly quicksand ground
                              Constantly tempting and dragging us down
                              We would draw nearer to thee, O Lord
                              We would draw nearer to thee

                              All our youth appears misused and spent
                              We wonder where all the good times went
                              As the winter of our life approaches fast
                              Our seconds and minutes don't seem to last
                              We would draw nearer to thee, O Lord
                              We would draw nearer to thee

                              In the days that lie ahead let us be bold
                              May we be shepherds to the sheep of thy fold
                              Keep us and mold us as we grow old
                              Let us see visions more precious than gold
                              We would draw nearer to thee, O Lord
                              We would draw nearer to thee
                              (First published in June 2012)

                                                               HE IS ABLE  

                                  "If a care is too small to be turned into a prayer,"
                       writes Corrie ten Boom, "It is too small to be made into
                       a burden."

                       When shall we who profess a dynamic Christian life
                       ever stop brooding and worrying over the day to day
                       problems that are continuously sent into our lives?

                       When shall we learn that our most gigantic,
                       serious problems as well as our smallest, bothersome 
                       irritations are known by God.

                       And, large or small...He is able to handle them all.

                       Resist evil with good...Turn you burdens into prayers...
                       Release your faith in the Lord...And He shall lift you up.

                                                        ​  WINTER GIVES WAY 613 
                                     
​                                      As winter begrudgingly gives way
                                      To spring, we watch with silent awe
                                      As the petals from our tulip tree 
                                      Across our lawn doth gently blow
                                      Witnesses of fair days and warmer nights
​                                      So nearly come within our grasp                                                                      
                                      The blossoms of a thousand limbs
                                      Bespeak of a beauty rare
                                      It comes upon us, everyone
                                      This season of the year, and asks 
                                      Us, with simple faith, to offer
                                      Trust and love to the father of us all
               
                                      So season gives way to season
                                      As upward the steps of time 
                                      We climb, making room for others
                                      Persuading, perhaps aright at times
                                      In the verdant meadows of our mind,
                                      There's a fine season up ahead
                                      
                                      (First published on April 29, 1979 
                                      with revisions posted  on April 18, 2020.)

                                                                       ​ PALM SUNDAY (1978) 
                                   
                                   We lay our palms down, dear Lord
                                   We cast them in your way
                                   We shout hosannas loud, dear Lord
                                   Don't you love our grand display?

                                       What, dear Lord, desert you?
                                   Never, never, nay
                                   Just listen how we praise you
                                   Just listen how we pray

                                   We shall deny you, dear Lord?
                                   Before the cock crows thrice?
                                   But, that's already been done once, Lord
                                   And it wasn't very nice

                                   Don't you want our palms, dear Lord?
                                   We thought you'd be impressed
                                   Are all our words vain repetitions
                                   And all our gestures merely jest?

                                   You mean there's still a cross to bear
                                   There's still a bitter cup? 
                                   And we must join you at Calvary 
                                   If we're to sit with you and sup

                                   Then let us go with thee, dear Lord
                                   With courage and stout heart
                                   And see the Cross as not the end
                                   But simply as a start
                                   Of something good

                                   (First published on March 19, 1978)

                                            

                                                    EASTER 1978  WE STOOD NEARBY

                                    We stood nearby the cross that day
                                    And could hardly take it in
                                    To a rough hewn tree
                                    Our shepherd had been nailed
                                    They had crucified our friend

                                    We took him down and laid him in
                                    A dark and borrowed tomb
                                    We prepared his body for the grave
                                    Amid encircling the encircling gloom

                                    We ashamedly hid our face
                                    As we left that awful place
                                    And quietly staggered home

                                    That night, we had no sleep
                                    But still the morning came
                                    We slowly travelled back
                                    Toward that sullen tomb
                                    That magnified and signified
                                    Our everlasting gloom
                                   
                                    As we approached the cave that day
                                    We could hardly believe our eyes
                                    An enormous boulder had been rolled away
                                    And an angel bid us stay
                    
                                    Why look ye for the living among the dead
                                    Came his message soft and clear
                                    Jesus, God's son, has risen and is gone
                                    You'll no longer find him here

                                    Two thousand years have come and gone
                                    Since that first sun crowned morn
                                    But the Easter message has not changed
                                    Nor has it lost its thrill
                                    For Jesus is alive and well
                                    And that old tomb is empty still

                                   (First Published on March 26, 1978,
                                    with revisions made on April 5, 2022.)