The Gang

I started hanging out with those guys that ride motorcycles. Yesterday…the whole gang mounted up and stormed off to the next town looking for thrills and adventure. My mother warned me about these kinds of people but I went anyway. We stopped at a hangout with nothing but trouble on the menu (deep-fried everything). We used language colored with words like “please” and “thank you”. Apparently the folks who ride old “air-head” Beemers are just that way. It’s a cult bike ridden by enthusiasts who enjoy its quirky clutch, clunky transmission and cylinders on the sides. I noticed that no one had a single tattoo; there were no sleeveless shirts and “do rags” in lieu of helmets. I need to watch with whom I associate.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for giving me wonderful God fearing people to be around.
Amen

FAREWELL

Mrs Elizabeth Lupton Owen, my wife's mother, went to sleep in Our Saviors Arms on Friday afternoon. I will miss her...that true and faithful servant...she was an inspiration to me and so many others. She blessed everyone with her mere presence, gentle countenance and smile for over 104 years. May Mary's mom rest in peace. I love you, Mrs. Owen.
Amen.

South Texas Heat

One hundred and three seemed warm to me,
As the sun rose high overhead.
At a hundred and four, I couldn’t ignore,
The heat that I truly dread.

The temperature climbed to a hundred and nine,
And my knees felt wobbly and weak.
I thought to myself, if I were an elf,
A colder place I’d seek.

But what worries me, is this, you see,
It’s not the South Texas heat.
It’s the eternal flame, that’s not the same,
That I do not want to meet.

It won’t hurt my pride, not to reside,
In the place that’s hotter than this.
Far be it from me, to want to be,
In some infernal hellish abyss.

Thank you Lord, you’ve played your card,
And I must make the decision.
I’ll place my bet and not regret,
Because it is You that has arisen.

Amen.